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heckpuppyy · 3 years

Text

It’s quiet.

The musings about a prince at a breaking point. Everyone deserves to breathe, even those who... uh, don’t.

TW// Mentions of intense negative emotion, mentions of blood, mentions of past Temporary Death, crying CW// Light physical affection, mute!reader

He was tired. His muscles ached, his mind was hazy, and his body bruised and bloodied. Zagreus had tried six times to escape again, but to no avail. It was always something that would come up... be it small like not moving away from one of the blasted traps in time and being sent straight home, or something more disappointing like losing to Champions he’d bested time and again from previous attempts. Nothing quite stung more than the mocking from Theseus when he couldn’t dodge quick enough and he was struck down.

This time, however, felt especially difficult. He only just managed to get away from Alecto and nearly was sent home by the Bone Hydra in a rather embarrassing fashion... but now this? Butterflies. Butterflies had left him within an inch of his life as he pulled himself through another door towards another challenge that he knew he wouldn’t survive. Frustrated, tired, and sore he continued into the room and surveyed the area as best as he could. It wasn’t long before he heard movement beyond his field of vision, immediately putting him on edge. He pulled Coronacht closer to him, knocking one of the divine arrows as he inched closer. Maybe if he could get the jump on it he would be able to survive... though that seemed very unlikely.

He pressed his back up against the phoenix statue and peaked around the corner, though what he was greeted by was not what he was expecting. A shade dressed in red and black gathered water from the healing fountain in a pitcher that looked freshly fired. He relaxed a bit, standing up to his height and taking the figure in a bit more. The shade turned and met eyes with the Prince.

And then it clicked.

Zagreus stood there for a moment so he could take everything in. The Shade who he had come to know and care for was behind the door he was convinced would surely take his life for a seventh time... in front of a fountain even! He couldn’t help himself from starting to laugh. It was comical, really. Convinced one of his family members or some other cruel entity was playing some kind of joke on him... putting him through such anguish to only have exactly what he needed when he had essentially given up on himself this time around.

‘Zagreus...?’ you signed, putting down your pitcher and taking a few tentative steps towards your friend. He was bruised, bloodied, and his eyes were reflecting something you had never seen in them before... hopelessness? No... maybe just exhaustion. Whatever it was, you certainly didn’t like it. Zagreus forced a smile as best as he could and settled his bow on his back as he moved towards you.

“Hello there, Shade. I, uh... wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He spoke, trying not to react as you knit your brows together with a frown.

‘What happened? You look rough...’ you reply, quickly going for the cloth attached to your belt and dipping it into your pitcher. Zagreus shook his head as you reach up and dab some of the grime away from his wounds on his face. You sighed, knowing it’s not your place to force him to talk about it but, at the same time, you really wanted him to...

He noticed the change in your demeanor and sighs himself. He moves your hand away and holds it in his for just a moment.

“I, uh... Can we sit down?” he asked, lowering his head to stare at your hand in his. You soften your expression and nod, gently leading him over to the edge of the fountain and settling yourself on it’s edge, Zagreus deciding to sit on the grass next to you. He doesn’t let go even now, almost feeling a sense of grounding having something that’s positive within reach of him.

“I... Haven’t had any success lately,” he starts, still focusing more on your hands than anything else, “And it’s starting to get to me, I think.”

“I was able to get out of here once, but I... couldn’t stay. I had to come back. When I wasn’t getting anywhere then, it was different. I was still learning, still strategizing... Everything was new and I had time to figure it out.”

He moves again, but this time it’s involuntary. He’s trembling a bit and something wet hit the back of your hand. Was he... was he crying? You reach out with your free hand, but hesitate. Not really knowing where physical boundaries of the Prince of the Underworld lie with friends, though really feeling like even a bit of reassurance would help. You let your hand rest on the back of his head, gently running your fingers through his dark hair in an attempts to sooth whatever could bring such a fierce and mighty champion to upset like this.

This gesture, however, was apparently all that Zagreus needed to understand he was safe. The tears flowed freely now, though he wasn’t sobbing. Just a release of emotions and frustrations and tension he was so bound and determined to hold onto. Like if it weren’t for that bundle of feelings he would’ve lost his fire.

“It’s been such a long time and I just...” he sighs, the breath shaky as he continues to let himself decompress. The rest is understood. ‘I just need a break’. He allows himself this moment to just let it all go, pride aside. The gentle touch from his friend feels so comforting when all he’s felt lately is just disappointment and physical agony. He can feel his heart beat against his chest as the negativity begins to seep out of him, the physical release of finally letting himself feel what he had been ignoring almost euphoric against everything else.

The two of you stay like this for a long while. Eventually, Zagreus looks up to finally meet your eyes. Kind and understanding, they truly felt like the only thing in Elysium he cared about at that moment. You smile, your cheeks would color if they could from such a loving gaze gifted to you. You pull back from him, moving to the cloth again and dipping it into the fountain. Zagreus relaxes as you dab away the dirt and grime from is wounds, the more superficial ones closing from the healing qualities of the water. You hand him the pitcher of water and he drinks deep, polishing off the container as if he’d never had a single drop to drink his entire life. You stand, helping him to his feet and fussing over his tunic for a bit before placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

‘Your failures do not define your success.’ you begin, ‘You made it out once, and you will do it again. Setbacks will continue to happen, but will not be the end. If not this time, maybe the next or even next after that.’

“Shade, I--”

You put up a finger and he quiets. You weren’t finished.

‘You’ll make it to Theseus and Asterius and I will be right where I always am. As your number one fan... and your friend. I will always be here, and not just because I’m dead.’

He laughs. That’s better.

‘Now go get them. I’ll be waiting for you at the Colosseum, and praying to Athena for your arrival. If I don’t see you this time, I will simply come right back here and wait until I see you on your next try. You can do it!’

Zagreus pulls you into a sudden tight hug. It catches you off guard for a moment, You relax and return the gesture, holding him until he finally releases and pulls back on his own.

“Thank you, Shade... I guess I didn’t realize how much I needed this. I’ll... I’ll see you soon. Whether that be with Theseus and Asterius or in this clearing once more. Take care of yourself too, alright?”

You nod in a promise you will. He takes a deep breath and holds it just for a moment before slowly letting it out, mentally steadying himself for the next leg. He lifts your hands up to his lips, gently placing a small kiss to the tops of them before pulling away. He smiles, a tinge of pink to his cheeks before he turns and heads off through the door down another leg of his never ending journey.

You smile to yourself and just watch the door close behind him, reveling in the stillness of your surroundings after. You soon move to collect your pitcher and gather some more of the fountain’s water before heading off on your own path again.

After all, the colosseum is a bit of a walk away. You don’t want to be late to see your favorite Champion claim another victory from the King and his Bull. There was no doubt in your mind it was going to be his best fight yet.

Well! After a bit of a rough week at work, I finally managed to finish this small drabble of mine. Working through some frustrations of my own is kind of what inspired this... but also having some really bad runs myself! As always, critique and feedback is appreciated! I hope you enjoyed! - Baph

#Zagreus #The Good Shade #The Good Shade AU #Hades Game #Hades Supergiant #Zagreus x Reader #Shadegreus #Hades fanfic #Hades Fanfiction #Zagreus HAdes #Hurt/Comfort #Zagreus just needs to cry sometimes #IT's okay buddy just let it out #writing tag

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kraiyan · 3 years

Text

i made my own little headcannons to fit in if michael and jeremy were dating and a bunch of other stuff that i don’t want to spoil so take my headcannons and please don’t pay attention to my overuse of the words ‘so’ and ‘like’

i wrote this headcannons for me in my notes so there are mentions of panic/anxiety attacks, light mentions of an eating disorder, nightmares, and self harm but i’ll just put a trigger warning for when those parts show up and if i missed anything that is triggering please let me know

- michael is trans and gay and jeremy is bisexual

- i think they would’ve been friends since kindergarten so they grew up telling each other EVERYTHING

- i feel like michael was really girly as a kid but in like 6th grade he just completely switched to like tomboy but he didn’t do on purpose it just happened

- then in seventh grade michael told jeremy he wanted to be a boy then after that with help from jeremy he came out to his moms

- michael had a crush in jeremy since 7th grade but i don’t think jeremy was his first crush

- i think since michael was straight when he was a girl he just assumed he was straight as a boy and his sexual awakening was captain sparklez

- michael has two moms and jeremys mom would’ve died in a car accident so it’s just him and his dad

- i imagine they confessed to each other in their second year of high school

- (TW: mentions of abuse) jeremy realized he liked michael in freshman year and it was really bad he could not stop thinking about him so when he got squip squip l would not stop punishing him for it

- so jeremy definitely has some problems with his bisexuality

- after years of pining for each other when they finally kissed jeremy could not stop panicking about it

- like they went to sleep fine but he was internally panicking and he tried to keep it together but the next day he absolutely broke just started sobbing saying over and over again “is this okay, are we okay”

- michael is the type to listen to a vulgar music to help his dysphoria

- so him and jeremy are in his car michael plugs in his phone and just starts singings “hoes want to be seen with me and i like their big thick titties”

- and jeremy can do nothing else but be like michael what the fuck

- they decided to keep their relationship a secret and not tell anyone bc of jeremy still coming to terms with himself and he didn’t think his dad would understand

- but i feel like michael moms had already pieced together that they were dating and jeremy didn’t mind that they knew bc they’re literally lesbians but every time jeremy came over from that point forward they had to keep their door open

-(TW: mention of an eating disorder) in a different angstier au jeremy would struggle with eating as a control thing after squip

- (TW: mention of an eating disorder) in an angstier au michael would have an eating disorder cause dysphoria

- i feel like once he realized he was trans he had really bad dysphoria but like with therapy and stuff he got over it

- so i think michael really liked afycso and had it on a vinyl and now jeremy knows all the words

- they don’t do anything at school because jeremy is still uncomfortable so they just pursuit their relationship between closed doors and michaels car in an empty parking lot

- i feel like they both got really excited when michael got referred to as sir for the first time

- jeremy and michael grew up together but ironically when puberty hit michael started to wear baggy clothes than he wore a binder than he wore super baggy clothes to hide his tits after coming out but during squip he had time to self reflect and work on his dysphoria so when jeremy saw michael outside of school he kinda said TITS and was so caught off guard by them

-(TW: mentions of self harm scars) i think michael has sh scars due to losing his childhood best friend and the whole panic attack in the bathroom thing and jeremys seen them but didn’t bring it up to michael because they’re fading so he obviously doesn’t do it anymore but it was a huge shock for jeremy to find out

- they never brought it up tho and it was never discussed bc who cares it was in the past

- michael pants his nails black and i think on some very rare occasion jeremy would paint his nails too (like the way karl paint his) and michael has lots of nail polish cuz on the rare occasion he paints his nails different colors and he repainted his nails every two weeks

- no matter how many times michael has changed in the same room as jeremy even let jeremy help take off his binder jeremy will never not get shy when he changes and will always ask to go into another room

- jeremy is a coffee person but not hot coffe because he always drinks it too early and burns his tongue

- he originally bought his hoodie™️ in really huge size to battle dysphoria but that just made the hoodie last for years

- jeremys name in michaels phone is something very gay and lovey and shit and michaels name on jeremys phone is just michael :)

- jeremy would come home all suspicious and and red faced after him and michael came from an empty parking lot that his dad would not stop begging him to meet this girlfriend of his

- i don’t think jeremy told his dad him and michael were playing a game or something and they kiss jeremys dad comes in and is like what 😦

-and his dad is shocked that he has been pushing girlfriend but he has a boyfriend and is just soooooo awkward about it and never sees michael the same but never makes any rules about them bc he doesn’t want to be homophobic 😭

- i don’t think he was really not supportive but it took him a bit to get used to it but it was so new to him and he was just so phased he just kinda talked to jeremy about his sexuality then left it at that

- they are like gendebend bubbline (marshal lee and the other one yk)

- michael has a queen vinyl the listen to a lot

- so i think michael would still smoke a bit and one time he convinced jeremy to do it with him and jeremy mainly coughed a lot then they just made out the rest of the time but they didn’t tell their parents they would be staying out after school and they both got in trouble

- michael gets blue raspberry and jeremy gets cherry but he also gets coke sometimes too (slushy flavors)

- at the beginning of their relationship they had to take it really slow so that jeremy would feel coqmfortable

- (TW: mentions of panic attacks) so jeremy has nightmares of squip and he wakes up having panic attacks and it’s really tiring bc he only gets 2 hours of sleep if he has these nightmares

- (TW: mentions of panic attacks) i feel like along with his nightmares he also had panic attacks that squip would punish him for pursuing a relationship with a guy let alone michael

- so after he got over his nightmares he just struggled with sleeping and nighttime in general like just fear around going to sleep

- so he often stayed up alll night to avoid sleeping and would like go to bed at 6 or on a good day 4 or 5

- so i think to get over his fear he had to make a routine first he would make some sort of hot drink or just water (mostly sleepy time tea) then he would text michael that he was going to sleep he also wears the same pajamas every time he goes to sleep just to make sure the routine really works then lastly he reads a comic book then he goes to bed

- i think the reason jeremy couldn’t sleep well after getting over the nightmares is because even if squip doesn’t haunt him enough to show up in his dreams anymore it still haunts him enough to stress him out constantly so he doesn’t sleep well

- to conclude the nightmare and sleeping saga jeremy basically has a night routine and sleeps with a night light

- i feel like they both go to therapy but we’re to scared to tell each other (and they both started going to therapy before they started dating)

- so fast forward they’re dating and are trying to plan a date and jeremys like i’m busy on monday at 1 and my dad needs me to help him with something on tuesday so how about wednesday at 3 and michaels like i have somewhere to be like at 3:30 and jeremys like where do you have to be and michaels like where do YOU have to be and so they count to three and say where they’re going to be and they both say therapy and then they’re like you go to therapy i think that would be so cute

- so michael has really thick glasses like his vision is awful so if jeremy is mad at michael he would wake up early and move his glasses over so michael would have to struggle to get out of bed and look for them with his poor ass vision

- he can see things right in front of his face but as soon as it moves a bit too far it’s blurry

- and speaking of his galsses if they’re really kissing along the way jeremy would take of his glasses so they could get closer to each other’s faces (like how elle and tao do in heartstopper )

- michael and jeremy have been friends way too long to not have practiced kissing with each other

- i think christine was a long time crush for jeremy so he definitely practiced kissing michael a lot since they were in 6th grade and michael was just soaking that shit up

- he’d be like what if she wants to make out we should practice that and jeremys like oh yeah you’re right and michael would be so freaking happy

- but they definitely got caught by jeremys dad and he laughed it off cause what else are you meant to when your 11 year old son and his 12 year old best friend are kissing each other

- they didn’t do it anymore after that cause they were soooooooooo embarrassed

- so i don’t talk about the rest of the characters but i’m about to make a headcannon including them so i’m gonna say my headcannons

- so chole is demisexual and panromantic

- brooke is a lesbian

- rich is bisexual and trans

- jake is pan

- jenna is questioning or straight

- and christine is aro/ace

- so i think jeremy and christine dated for a bit then christine broke up with him cause she was all like i can see the way you look at michael and also because she realized she was feeling intense platonic attraction not romantic

- and also i think they’re all friends so they have a group chat where they send homework answers and stuff

- so i think one time jeremy is doing his nighttime routine but this particular night he’s really tired so he texts michael goodnight bby <3 love u then skips the comic book reading and goes to bed but he sent it to their group chat so as soon as he got situated into bed all he hears is his phone going off so he has to check and it’s just everyone freaking out

- so he like fully sits up is looking at his phone in complete shock then realizes he never said a name so they are like who’s this mystery girl

- so he calls michael tells him about the situation then decides he’s ready to come out

- so the next day they’re more handsy then usual like jeremy wiped something off his face michael saw that he was cold and pulled him real close and their friends are like okayyyyy

- but mind you christine knew that jeremy liked michael so she knew exactly what was happening

- so at the end of the day their friend group is making plans to hang out but everyone was busy so jeremy goes well i’ll see you guys tomorrow waves at everyone kisses michael then starts walking to his house then michaels like yea i’m gonna head home to and like drives away and from that day forward their friends would not stop teasing them and were impressed they could keep there secret for so long

- so i feel like michaels moms both have jobs that run late so mom #1 is an er nurse and mom #2 is an account so this leaves michael a lot of time of being alone in his house so naturally you need to take advantage

- so one time mom #2 gets home and walks in just to see jeremy fully on the counter making out with her son

- i don’t think they got in trouble but his mom was like please not on the counter

- and then there was another time where mom #1 came home on her break cause she doesn’t live far from the er so she like yells to michael that she’s home

- and so naturally you come down to hug your mom so he comes down to greet his mom with a red faced jeremy behind him and his mom thought this was so fucking funny but as soon as she’s done laughing she immediately goes anytime jeremys over the doors open and that was the end of it

- everyone has this one thing that someone does that make them all blushy and stuff

- for jeremy it’s when michael wears fitting clothes cause michael is known to wear hoodies or just baggy clothes in general so when michael does get hot and needs to like put something on he puts on one of those body fitting v necks and jeremy losses his shit like he’s fully blushing and avoiding eye contact and since michael changed cause he was hot he’s sure that jeremy is so hot that his face is turning red and he’s embarrassed to say to take off his cardigan so the entire time jeremy is being full homo for his boyfriend michael is thinking he’s about to pass out from a heat stroke

- so i think jeremy enjoys this so much that for the first week of spring michael will only wear fitted clothes because jeremy loves it

- for michael it’s when he’s kissing jeremys neck and jeremy runs his hand thru his hair and pulls it a little when this happens michael loses all common sense one because jeremys enjoying himself so much that he has to kinda tug on michaels hair and two he’s enjoying it so much he doesn’t have time to think that squip is going to punish him and that makes michael just lose his mind so by the time they’ve pulled apart jeremy as sooooo many hickies and they both look at each other like what the fuck did we just do

- moving right along i feel like when jeremy wakes up at night and is terrified to go back to sleep if him and michael are sleeping together he will like hug him until he gets back to sleep and it works every time

- when they were like 7 jeremy got really sick with the flu and michael was so scared that he was going to die so he kissed him while he was sleeping because if his best friend was gonna die so was he and the next day he got really sick with the flu and jeremy would not stop crying because he thought that since michael refused to leave his side he got him sick…they’re idiots

- jeremy is the type to go to school with the worst fever ever he could throw up in the middle of the school day and still not go to the nurse and if he got sick during junior year forget it you had to strap him down to his bed if you wanted him to take a day off like michael had to sedecue him into staying in bed and taking medication so that he could feel better

#be more chill #boyf riends #bmc #bmc headcanons #bmc michael #bmc jeremy

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

Humming

So apparently I can’t get away from the Moments series, ‘cause this little lukanette moment popped into my head and... well... I just had to write it.

Huge thanks to @writtenbyrain for giving this a read-through! 💖

Read on Ao3

Luka hummed even in his sleep.

It was after a Kitty Section rehearsal when Marinette first found out. Ivan and Mylène had already left and Luka had gone to the back to meditate. Marinette, Rose, and Juleka were below deck working on the new costumes. Juleka was nodding along as they talked, occasionally adding a thought here and there, but mostly just listening.

From the back room, a tuneless humming started up, which made Rose and Marinette fall silent.

“He does that sometimes,” Juleka muttered from behind her bangs, shrugging. “Just stressed.”

“Why is Luka stressed?” Marinette asked.

“School, work, love, music, take your pick.”

Marinette stuck her bottom lip out in an unconscious pout as she thought about a stressed Luka. He was always so calm, and nothing ever seemed to bother him. Part of that had to be his meditation practice, but part of it was just… him. So if he was stressed out... She thought back to the past few times she’d seen him. Had there been more tightness to the way he held his shoulders? He had mentioned he hadn’t had any time to redo his hair; and he’d been picking at the chips in his nail polish during rehearsal earlier that night, too.

It made her feel absolutely awful for calling on him to be Viperion more than usual lately. She tucked her hair behind her ear and tugged at her earring. If he was under so much pressure already, she shouldn't be putting any more on him. She shouldn't be asking any more from him. But she liked having him around if she was being honest. Not just his Second Chance power, but him. His cool head and quiet intensity.

It made sense, though, that if he was worked up about anything it would pop up when he was asleep. While he was unable to redirect or breathe through it. She tugged at her earring again and resolved to ask less of him. The humming stopped abruptly and the rest of the brainstorming session was eerily quiet without it.

She didn’t think about it again until she was dropping the costumes off. Juleka had said Luka would be there and he’d help her carry them onboard. But when she set foot on deck with the masks in her hands, his tuneless humming greeted her.

She followed the noise and found him passed out on the loveseat in the atrium, on his back with his legs hanging over the side. The fading orange light of the setting sun streamed through the arched westward-facing windows and spilled over his still form. He was still clutching his bike helmet; his knuckles grazed the floor occasionally as the boat swayed in the water. He must've come straight from work and been too exhausted to even make it down to his room.

She set the masks down, trying her best not to let them clatter to the floor, and ventured to his side to ease the helmet out of his grip. The humming paused and she froze, worried she’d woken him. But he only pulled his arm up and tucked it around his stomach. He tossed his head to the side and his hair fell over his eyes. When the sunlight split through it his hair looked more dark reddish-brown than black—his natural highlights bleeding through the semi-permanent dye. The blue fringe haloing his face was faded, too. She ached to run her fingers through it, to see the colors change and blend together in the sunlight.

As soon as he was settled, his humming started up again. It was a deeper note than before and a crease formed between his eyebrows in his sleep. He tossed his head again to face her before the pitch changed. It became a high, keening noise, like cicadas whining in summer, and it made Marinette’s heart feel like breaking.

Hesitantly, she laid the back of her hand to his cheek. He ran cool as he slept and she put her palm to his cheek instead, hoping to give him some warmth. His lips curved up into a smile in his sleep. She stroked his cheekbone softly. For some reason, her touch seemed to be calming him. The furrow had disappeared from between his eyebrows, and his humming was quieting until she could barely feel it through the vibration of his jaw. When even that faded, she pulled away and paused to look at him.

“How'd you do that?” Juleka’s voice from the entrance of the atrium made Marinette jump. Juleka’s fingertips were braced above the doorway and she was leaning forward; Marinette had a brief moment of envy because Juleka was tall enough that it was barely a stretch for her. She dared to glance back at Luka and he was still solidly asleep, although his lips were moving as if he was singing along to something in his dream.

“Heavy sleeper,” Juleka pointed out with a shrug.

“Um… I don’t know? I just… I touched his cheek?”

Juleka rolled her eyes. “Figures.”

“What?”

“Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more hopeless.” Juleka hung into the doorway a bit more and shook her head at him.

Marinette turned to look at Luka again. The small smile hadn’t left him. His eyelids were fluttering as he dreamed, and his fingers twitched on his stomach along to whatever melody he must be hearing. She wondered what it was like for him. To hear music everywhere, all the time. It almost sounded suffocating to her, but then she couldn't play like he could. She couldn't get to the heart of people like he could.

She started when she realized Juleka was still watching her. This must look like Marinette was being a total creep, watching her brother as he slept. Juleka smirked and Marinette blushed as she looked away.

“Watch this,” Juleka muttered. She waited until Marinette’s eyes were back on Luka before she raised the volume of her voice. “Marinette.”

“Mmm…’nette.” Luka mumbled back. Marinette’s breath caught in her chest. If she hadn’t actually seen his lips moving, forming the syllables, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“Found that out after you left last time," Juleka said smugly behind her. "He does it every time.”

Marinette tried not to think too hard about what Juleka was implying. But Luka's unconscious smile had her heart fluttering. She tore her eyes away to look back at Juleka. “He’s just repeating the last word he’s hearing,” Marinette said. She couldn't help that her tone came out more defensive than she'd meant it to.

Juleka raised her eyebrows.

“I’m sure it works with any name,” she continued stubbornly.

“Tried that. Just yours.”

Luka's humming picked up again, as if he could sense—even in his sleep—the tiny amount of tension between her and Juleka. Juleka jerked her head at him, her eyebrows still raised expectantly at Marinette.

Marinette let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding before she reached out to brush the blue tips of his hair out of his eyes, letting her fingers linger against his forehead before she followed his brow bone around to cup his cheek again.

The humming stopped.

His cerulean eyes opened onto hers.

He blinked at her before his hand came up to cover hers and his eyes bounced over to Juleka.

"Welcome back, sleeping beauty," Juleka sneered.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the throw pillow behind his head and threw it at her face. Juleka caught it, still grinning.

"I thought I told you to cut that out," he muttered darkly, letting Marinette’s hand go as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

"I think your specific words were—" Juleka scrunched her face up in a comical frown and deepened her voice to mimic Luka's—"'get the hell outta my face!'"

"And stop screwing with me when I'm asleep!" Luka reached underneath his knees for more artillery in the form of another throw pillow.

"But you didn't say anything about Marinette screwing with you." Juleka’s smirk was threatening to slip off the side of her face.

Luka froze mid-swing and his eyes snapped to Marinette. Her hands flew up in defense.

"It was just—I mean, I didn't mean to! You were humming and when I touched your cheek and it stopped and then Juleka—and you said my name and I—" She clapped her hand over her mouth as Luka's eyes slowly went wider and his cheeks started turning pink. "I'm sorry," she said finally.

Luka turned back to glower at Juleka. Juleka stared back, feigning innocence. After an intense standoff between the siblings, Juleka stuck her tongue out and waved her fingers under her chin before she giggled and walked away. Luka sighed and fell back against the couch when she was gone, covering his face with his hands as he groaned.

“You’re so lucky you don’t have any siblings,” he muttered into his palms. With another sigh, he wiped his hands down over his face and sat up fully. He shook off his exhaustion and fixed his expression before he focused on Marinette again. “Sorry about that.” His smile quirked to the side and he grunted as he started to lift himself up. “Costumes, right? Are they still on the bank? I can carry them in.”

Without thinking about it, Marinette’s hand shot out to his shoulder and pushed him gently back down. He followed her direction, then raised his eyebrows in a question. She pulled her hand away from him and started twisting her fingers together instead.

“Y-you’re tired. I can take care of this.”

“Marinette, I’m fi—”

“No, you're not.” She fell to sit next to him and he turned to face her, crossing his ankle under his knee as he did and simultaneously putting a respectful space between them. He draped his arm across the back of the couch, though, so his fingers were a stretch away from brushing against her shoulder. Marinette bit her lip and glanced down at her hands in her lap. “I-I can… tell," she continued. "You worry so much about everyone else, and make sure they're taken care of. But you're wearing yourself too thin, taking everything on your shoulders like this. You need to take a break sometimes, too."

He hummed and turned his face to the window. She snuck a glance at him; he had his eyes closed as he raised his face to the sunlight that was filtering into the room. His tension left him as he took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. His shoulders relaxed; that small, unconscious smile came back; and he hummed again, in pleasure this time instead of in thought. When he opened his eyes again, he turned them on her, and his smile grew when he noticed she had been watching him.

“You’re probably right,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

The way his blue eyes were so focused on her—like he was turning her words back on her—made a blush rise to her cheeks again and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she looked out the window this time instead. She felt it when he dropped his intense gaze to look just over her shoulder instead of through her.

“I do worry about people,” he started again, “at least, the people I care about. The people close to me.” His fingers twitched towards her on the back of the couch and she shifted subtly into his touch. “And it can be a lot sometimes. But it’s nothing compared to what Chat Noir or Ladybug must feel. They have an entire city to care about.”

His choice of words, and his quiet delivery, made her shiver. She dared to glance back at him and he wasn’t looking over her shoulder. He was looking at her ear. Where she had unthinkingly exposed the plain black stud of her unactivated Miraculous. His fingers brushed against her shoulder, reassuring her in his gentle way.

“You worry about them, too, then?”

He hummed again in agreement, a lower, more somber note than before. She found herself thinking that if you took all his different hums and put them together you could have a song all by itself.

“I can’t imagine the pressure they’re under. They don’t seem much older than Juleka, but they’re out there saving Paris on an almost weekly basis. I just…” He shook his head and sighed. “I wish I could help more, you know?”

Tears were springing to her eyes and she sniffed before she looked out the window again to swipe one away before it could fall. Before he could see. “You do,” she admitted, “more than you know.” She cleared her throat to try to get rid of the lump that was starting to stick there. “Um, but that’s why you should take more time for yourself, too. So that… the people that you care about… um…” She dared to glance up at him and he was looking off to her side this time, giving her space to say what she needed to. “Um, we worry about you, too.”

He gave her a slow, gentle smile as his eyes traveled back to hers. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently, and it sent a wave of warmth through her. "Thanks for thinking of me, Marinette."

He pulled away and stood, offering her a hand up. "Together, then?"

Her heart started fluttering again as she put her hand in his. She had a feeling he was talking about more than just bringing the costumes in. He raised his eyebrows as she hesitated, holding his hand, deciding if she should take him at his word or not.

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. The burnt orange rays of the sunset haloed around him, making him look gold around the edges. He was still smiling, and his hand tightened around hers.

"If we both do a little, neither one of us carries the full weight," he said with an easy half-shrug. "I help you, you help me, everyone wins."

She let him help her up, and she steadied herself by bracing her hand against his elbow. His pulse raced under her thumb and she squeezed lightly. "You're right," she agreed finally. And he was.

It was time for him to have Sass full time. It was time she trusted him to know his own limits, and to help her if that's what he wanted to do.

"Together," she murmured back, squeezing his elbow one more time before she reached up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for thinking of me, too."

From the doorway, there was an obvious, sarcastic throat clear and Luka turned to look right as a throw pillow thwacked him in the face. Juleka was hiding a snicker behind her hand by the doorway. Marinette glanced behind Juleka and noticed that while she and Luka had been talking, Juleka had quietly carried the rest of the costumes on board and set them by the stage. When she looked back at Luka, she watched as his eyes flicked to the costumes, then back to Juleka before his soft smile turned wicked.

He picked up the pillow from the floor and Juleka flinched as he cocked his arm back like he was getting ready to chuck it at her with all his strength. But at the last second he swung at Marinette instead, catching her shoulder and tugging one of her pigtails loose. He grinned as both girls gasped and Marinette automatically reached for the other throw pillow still on the loveseat behind her.

Luka raised his eyebrows in a clear challenge, but flicked his eyes almost imperceptibly back at Juleka and Marinette smirked back at him as she caught his meaning and twisted to fling the pillow at Juleka instead.

An all-out every man for himself war broke out, with Luka augmenting the ammo with anything soft he could get his hands on, Marinette dodging as seriously as if they were akuma blasts, and Juleka hoarding everything in a pile on the stage. She cackled when—out of breath, out of ammo, out of ideas—Luka and Marinette were forced to concede.

But they shared another glance with each other and rushed her at once, forcing her to take a step back and fall into her pillow pile. Luka landed on one side of her with his arm wrapped around her middle—even as he'd tackled Juleka he'd made sure he took the brunt of the fall—and Marinette landed on her other side, giggling at the thrill of their hard-earned victory.

They stayed like that, letting their laughter peter out, until the lights of Paris started twinkling into view like stars. Juleka muttered something about her turn to make dinner and disentangled herself from Luka's arm, which fell limply back to the pillows.

When Juleka had walked away, Marinette glanced over at Luka and he looked like he was asleep again already, his smile from their war softened, but still there, his breathing deep and even. Content, she realized.

As the last rays of pink light started to streak across the sky above them, she also realized that she should be getting back home. She pushed herself up on her elbows, thinking about how she could let him know she was leaving without waking him. Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before she stood and walked stiffly across the deck.

As she set foot on the stairs, his tuneless humming started up behind her, although it was softer, warmer. It was the same note as before when he'd lifted his face to the dwindling sunlight. She looked back one more time and blushed as she realized he'd moved to occupy the space Juleka had been in earlier. The space next to where Marinette had been. And his hand had curled around one of the pillows she'd been laying on as if he would've held her to him had she stayed.

She turned away from him, and even the chill seeping into the air as the final vestiges of light disappeared couldn't cool her burning cheeks. The entire way home she had his humming singing through her thudding heartbeat and an uncontrollable smile on her face.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #ml fic #lukanette #lukanette endgame #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #juleka couffaine #fic series: moments

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thewritingstar · 3 years

Text

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Rating: T

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Major Character Death.

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :)

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“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

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The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

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The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

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“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

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“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

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The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

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“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

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Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

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Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

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She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

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Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says.

BAM!

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

I hope you enjoyed!

#blossutch #blossom x butch #ppg fic #angst #blossutch fic #thewritingstar

17 notes · View notes

love-we-write · 3 years

Text

Eccedentesiast

Character: RichyxMC (ambiguous platonic or romantic) Genre: Hurt/Comfort? Friendship/Romance? Unbeta-ed mess is for certain Words: 4,188 Summary: Richy is used to being known to be able to bring a little bit of comical sunshine to everybody’s gloom. He’s just not used to letting anyone know that he’s burning behind that light. But then, you appeared in his life. Potential T/W: mentions of panic attacks A/N: Done in conjunction with the Duskwood Secret Santa event~! Dear @anatomical-myocardium, Merry Christmas to you~! Sorry this took so long to post, I swear my laptop crashes on me at the most inconvenient time sometimes. I hope I did this justice as a gift to you, and I hope you like it, just as I absolutely love your gift to me~! Have a safe and happy Christmas~! ❤️ ❤️

And with a renewed vow to write anything and everything that I want to write without minding if it’s a game, or an anime, or an anime game, or Kpop, here we go~! ❤️ ❤️

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Richy is most known by his friends and all the Duskwood residents for his carefree nature, and he is very much aware of this.

With his small group of friends, he has been the joker of the group longer than memory can serve, always light-hearted with that small touch of dry humor to help liven up the mood. From their weekly battle of Doodle Friends to their catch up session at Aurora’s, all seven of them look to Richy to brighten their days with his quick-witted comebacks and his lame jokes that gets even Lily - ever the serious one - to chuckle.

At his job, his bright personality makes him one of the select few who could talk to Alfie without unnerving the boy, and from greeting old ladies who pass by his shop to chatting away with his customers while he repairs their cars, everyone does not have qualms to admit that Richy’s easy-going nature is his most admirable trait, a warm relaxing ray of sunshine that comes out and give others a bit of cheer on their gloomy days.

Richy knows that his ability to not take things too seriously gives comfort to his friends.

Richy knows this, knows it in the way Jessy thanks him for being there for her when she is frustrated with how Dan is treating her affections, knows it in the way Thomas looks at him silently yet gratefully when he brought them to Aurora’s and filled them with a copious amount of beers and stupid jokes for a self-proclaimed “pity party” after Thomas’ fight with Hannah.

He knows it during the wake of Hannah’s absence when Thomas is on the verge of breaking down, and when Jessy fought with Cleo over how to handle the investigation, Lilly had reached out to him in the middle of the night, quiet words of “I feel like you’re the only one keeping this group together,” mumbled into the phone in between sniffles.

Richy knows he is most known for his easy-going personality, and he is used to it.

He is also used to that horrible feeling of uselessness constantly haunting him in the deep dark solace of his mind. That sinking in his stomach, the heaviness settling in his core as he contemplates whether he has anything worthwhile at all anything good to offer to this world, the constant feeling that he doesn’t have anything at all. It is a dark void spanning the crevasse of his mind that comes up in his solitude, whispering that he is not good enough, that he does not deserve grief and his fear is only going to burden his loved ones.

Because who is he to voice out his sadness and anguish when everybody else has so much on their plate already? Who is he to want to cry at Jessy to look at him, just LOOK AT HIM WHO HAS BEEN THERE FOR YOU when she is heartbroken herself. What right does he have to voice out his grief, his guilt at being the first one to come to Hannah’s house but still unable to save her anyway? What right does he have to say these things, when he only had lost a friend while Thomas lost a girlfriend and Lilly a sister?

What right does he have?

So, Richy does what he does best. He smiles. He jokes. And he hides. He stopped trying to figure out the line inside him where his smile ends and his fear starts. To him, they all bleed together.

Richy is used to being known to be able to bring a little bit of comical sunshine to everybody’s gloom. He’s just not used to letting anyone know that he’s burning behind the light.

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

But then, you appeared in his life. You with your contagious kindness, you who are the one person who does not have any personal stakes with Hannah in this investigation but still decided to help out of the sheer good in your heart.

Richy sometimes thought that you were highly naive when you said that them getting your number and bringing you in this group must have meant that there is something that you could do instead of just seeing it as it is; an ominous invitation from an unknown hacker. However, that thought of your naivete is blown out of the water when he witnessed your bright-eyed curiosity and your sharp perception.

‘You like Jessy, don’t you?’ you had texted him out of the blue during one of your conversations when during the first few days after you appeared in their lives.

Richy swore he almost dropped his phone in his coffee when he read your text. No one has ever picked up on his one-sided affections towards Jessy, not even their group, not even Jessy herself who has been his close friend.

He has always been wary of you when Thomas first invited you in. A stranger whose number was given to them by another stranger seemed to Richy like a well-timed disaster waiting to explode in their faces. Richy liked to think of himself as neutral when it comes to matters of your involvement; skeptical enough to not be desperate as Thomas but to the point of hostility that Lilly has shown.

But with your eagle-eyed intuition, Richy realized he had to be extra careful with himself around you.

‘Uh, gotta go. Coffee’s about ready and I need that caffeine injection for my sanity, in case some more shit happens around here, haha,’ he had typed quickly, adding in several emojis in succession for some good measure. He puts the phone face down almost immediately, as if that would help distract him from your reply, and busies himself with work.

‘That’s okay. Coffee sounds like a great idea. The next time you want to subtly avoid having uncomfortable conversations about yourself, I have a list of ideas :D,’ was your reply to him when he checked his phone during his break.

Mirth bubbles up in Richy, a feeling of familiarity and comfort fizzing up in him like downing cold soda on a hot summer day. Richy chuckles towards his phone, seeing as you really did provide him with a list of excuses to make to get out of conversation, each item sillier than the previous one.

Your entrance into his and the way Richy felt you seeing through to him feels like a breath of fresh air.

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

‘Richy, hi.’

Richy smiles, looking at his phone vibrated on the countertop as he is pouring his third cup of coffee for the day. Seems like the weekend is as good as any for him to gather his thoughts to himself, to compartmentalize his feelings away from the crowd, but the texts from you over the days is a welcome distraction.

From asking him about Jennifer Manson, to asking him about the phone call he made on the day of Hannah’s disappearance, to random conversation about your favorite movies or music, messages from you have become something he looks forward to daily. He found himself slowly thinking more and more of you; whether you are okay, what you have been doing among other things

‘Now, what more information does my lady seek from me?’ he types quickly, anticipating as the three dots beside your name blinks back at him.

‘Good sir, is it such a crime if I just want to inquire about your day? :(’

Richy would be lying if he said that his heart did not skip a few beats over those words.

‘Our previous conversations would indicate that you always would have things to ask me after you know about how my day went, so out you go. :D’

It feels nice to see you playing along with his jokes.

‘Cleo told me you fought with your dad?’

Ah.

Not information about Hannah’s disappearance then. Which, to him, is much much easier to divulge.

‘That girl is going to get into trouble one day over how much she’s eavesdropping.’

‘I know. But more importantly, are you okay?’

Are you okay? Wow, Richy thinks as he stares at his idle phone. A simple question, but look at how he is struggling to answer. So he quickly typed in.

‘I’m okay, don’t worry, haha. Listen, the cat outside my apartment is literally meowing my window panes down, I better go check up on it before it eats itself,’ Richy began typing his response, as if him staring down the digitized letters will give him some form of epiphany over what the best course of action is.

Excuse #12 from that ridiculous list that you gave him from weeks ago. From feeding non-existent stray cats outside his house to a car needing their tires changed, it quickly became an inside understanding between the two of you that this is a signal that he does not want to talk about it.

But, inside, he wants to talk about it. Wants to talk to you about how this fight is a series of continuous disagreements between him and his father over how to run the family’s garage. Wants to talk about how this garage is not what he envisioned doing in his adult year, that he has no interest whatsoever in running the family’s business. How he had wanted to be a photographer, but was forced to run the garage by his dad to continue the family business.

And how each time his father berates him over the losses their garage suffered due to the new competing garage in town, he feels a slight vendetta to bring up that he is never interested in what happens in this garage but is only doing it for his father.

He has long perfected the art of hiding anything of him that isn’t polished and brightened, so when you picked it up immediately, he felt flustered. Flustered because he doesn’t know what to do when faced with the idea of someone perceptive as you catching his vulnerabilities that he is ashamed of. But, also flustered with the fact that he feels a small sense of comfort that someone took time to notice the small things about him, and that deep inside, he feels some small part of him wanting to reach back out.

For now, he just added a bunch of cheerful emojis for good measure and hits send.

He wants to talk about it. He wants to.

‘You know, I don’t expect you to exhaust that list so quickly. I would have thought it’d be good for at least 2-3 months.’ came your reply.

‘I worry about you, Richy.’

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

And it is true, you are worried for him. It has been close to three weeks since you first got added into this strange group, and if truth be told, you would never have thought that you’d be as invested as you are now. You could not deny that Jessy and Richy were two of the friends you never thought that you would care for as much as you did. You know that Jake had warned you over the group, and you ARE a bit more wary of some more than others, but you did not expect your trust to go wholeheartedly to this small trio that you have formed with Jessy and Richy.

Jessy is the sweetest girl you have ever met in the world, always kind. She has this effect around people that made them feel cared for, and you are thankful how she had welcomed you and helped you out when everyone else seems to think you are the kidnapper.She wears her heart on a sleeve, and she trusts easily, but she means well. And Richy…

Richy is an enigma. On surface level, it seems that he is a bright ray of sunshine, all lighthearted jokes and wit, a perfect comedic complement to Jessy’s more emotional tendencies, but you notice the things that made Richy much more complex than he lets on.

You see his calm and composed nature when he is the one to suggest the group to think more critically in the case of your appearance and Hannah’s disappearance, how he calmed everyone down and brought their spirits up. But you also see his aversion to talking about how he himself feels.

Even though he does not show it, you know the incident with Hannah affected him just as much as it had affected everybody else. You see the sprinkle of emotions he has shown, from Jessy who told you how quiet he had been on the day his garage was spray painted with the sign of the raven, to his deprecating jokes about himself when you asked about the phone call he had made to Hannah on the day of her disappearance.

You see that sliver of fear, that glimpse of guilt over those short moments, but come any closer and you could miss it with how subtly and skillfully he averts to more cheerful topics.

But that’s the thing. You worry for him. Jessy goes to the both of you for comfort while Dan goes to Jessy. Lilly has her family, Cleo goes to Thomas and Thomas’s grief is acknowledged and heard by all of them.

But who listens to Richy? Who gives Richy their shoulder for him to grief? Who lift up his spirits the way he does to you? For now, all you can do is put your phone close to your ear, Richy’s number dialing in the background.

‘I worry about you, Richy.’

‘It gets better, I promise you. You don’t have to be alone. I’m here for you,’ you added under your previous text. It goes unanswered and your calls only gets redirected to voicemail. So all you can do is hold your phone close to you, placing your lips on its receiver, only able to hope that it goes to him, that his cheeks or his forehead feels the warmth as a sign that you are here for him.

Miles away, in Duskwood, Richy only stares in his phone longingly, wanting to call you.

‘I’m here for you.’ your text that had him feeling hopeful, comforted and flustered him all the same.

It has been a long time since someone sees through him so transparently, heck, the void in him has bled together with his façade so much that even he himself cannot see through the layers of sunshine to where his dark insecurities start. He has crafted so many walls, perfected so many smiles that it even fooled Jessy, the person most close to him here in Duskwood. Perhaps at some point, maybe he even fooled himself.

And yet, here you are. Effortlessly breaking through those walls like it’s paper, unblinded by the fake shine he puts on, and sees the darkness in him for what it is. He has to laugh at that as he leaned his forehead on his phone, somehow feeling a sense of comfort just in doing that. What have you done to him?

Perhaps one day he can begin to talk about it.

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

That day came sooner that he thought it would be. That night in December, it snowed heavily in Duskwood. Angry snow fell down in a furious blizzard, gusts of wind wailing outside in anguish, doors and window panes shaking almost in fear. Sometimes, the wailing picks up speed and bangs on the window with a scream.

Inside, Richy is just as furious, just as anguished as the blizzard outside. The man without a face seems hell-bent in getting them to stop finding Hannah and to obtain your location. Richy would bend over backwards and go to hell twice before letting your location fall in its hands. And with the search not showing any signs of stopping, so did the threats to them.

Today, it took the threat to another level when it involved their families as well. Richy had woken up with a call from his father. He had expected the call to be his father picking up another fight with him, but the urgency in his father’s voice and the manic sobbing of his mother in the background struck a cold chord in him.

It turned out that his family house has been vandalized with the signs of the raven, only this time it is worse than the one did in the garage. The windows were splashed with red paint, with papers jammed in their mailbox full of threatening letters of ‘give me her’ and ‘Richy, you’re next’. It took him a good two hours to scrub the windows clean, and then another hour to comfort his mother that this is just a prank pulled by some reckless vandals, to clean up the papers from the mailbox and throw them in the trash.

But, deep inside he knows it. This is not a prank. This is a threat to him. To them.

Duskwood is a small town. People will talk and come tomorrow, his friends will find out. He needs time. He needs time to sort out his thoughts. Time to properly compartmentalize.

He needs time to sort out through his guilt of not being able to protect his family from being terrorized from the man without a face. There is the fury with the fact that it has been established that the man without a face is someone within their circle, given how much they know about your presence.

He needs time.

There is the fear that you, being the lynch pin to all that the man without a face wanted from them, will be burdened more. He needs time to sort through the fear that he could not protect you, and even though it is for the best interest of your safety that none of them knows where you are, you are still all alone having to pick up after these seven dysfunctional people and no one to protect you.

Then, there is the confusion, the stress, the angry sadness that this is a game that he has to continue to play with his friends. The betrayal that one of them, one of his close friends is responsible for this, that they could have the balls to laugh with him, smile with him and turn around and do this to him.

He needs time to sort through this anger and he doesn’t have the courage to face them and continue playing this game tomorrow, not when all he wanted to do is lash out at each one of them and threaten them and ohgodheneedstimeheneedstime--

In the solace of his room in his family home, Richy feels his thoughts become as white as the blizzard of snow outside. He hears his breath quickens, a voiceless wail stuck in his throat and he feels the shivers in his spine like the doors trembling in front of the wind.

Heneedstimeohgodpleasegivehimabitoftime----

And like a lifeline, his phone besides him rang and vibrated and he clutched it to him like a lifeline. Like a miracle in December, he sees that it’s your name. Somewhere in his blank white thoughts, he hears a small chuckle and how impeccable your timing is.

He answers and your voice in his ears sounded like a buoy thrown to him that is flailing about.

“Richy, I had a bad feeling about something. Is everyone okay?” and Richy hears himself laugh at that, a horrible mixture of a broken laugh and a hiccup and a helpless wail, all mixed up to become a horrible wounded noise.

Over on your side of the phone, your heart picked up pace when you heard that choked laughter from Richy. It is horrible and it is scary and you would never want to hear it from anyone again, least of all not Richy. He is having a panic attack.

“Richy, are you okay?! Richy, listen to me. Breathe with me, sweetheart. Breathe in, breathe out,” deep inside you tried to stay calm because that is what he needs, but even you feel like being on the verge of tears listening to this man - who has cheered you up so much - break down in front of you.

After he seemed to have calmed down, you tried again.

“Richy, what’s wrong? Please talk to me. You deserve to not be alone in this Richy. I see you. I see you smiling to get everyone to smile. You listened to me and you lifted up my mood when Jessy was attacked, and when I received threats over Lilly’s video. Let me do the same to you, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong?”

And to Richy, who has clutched onto your voice like a lifeline, who wants to share everything with you, just burst like a dam. Everything that he has kept secret from his friends, the sadness behind his smile, everything that he has even kept from himself and just swept under the rug and pushed into a closet at the back of his mind. Everything burst right there in front of you, from his guilt to not being able to stop Hannah’s kidnapping and Jessy’s attack, to him feeling unworthy of being sad compared to others, to his fear when he saw the sign of the raven in his garage and now on his home, his fury at knowing one of his friends are doing this, to his fear for Jessy, his fear for you.

He hated everything. He hated himself.

You told him that he is strong, that you admired him so much, but he needs to see that he deserves to be comforted just as much as he has comforted everyone else.

In that snowstorm-clad night, the winds wept and wept, but beneath its howl, you can hear the intermittent wail of a broken man as Richy cried, and cried, and cried.

As he lets out everything, the blank white fog of his mind begins to clear and gain color. It started from the reds of fury, to the blacks of fear and the blues of guilt, but then your voice came in, and slowly the pinks of comfort, the yellows of hope and the purples of peace began melting through.

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

[EPILOGUE]

Both you and Richy sat over the phone for over 3 hours just talking about nothing and everything after his outburst.

He seems to have gained his color back, his cheerful self almost back as he cracked his lame stories about gangster seagulls eating his sandwich once in his travels. Richy feels like this time, his color - albeit still a little faded - is much more genuine than the blacks filtered from a rose-colored glass that he has shown before. Your laughter as you listen to his story and object to its credibility, slowly made those faded colors in his mind more vibrant.

“Thank you for listening to me, for um… taking care of me,” he begins a bit meekly after he finishes his story. He’s not so used to being listened to, not at this vulnerable a level and definitely he is not used to being taken care of.

“You did the same to me when Jessy was attacked. And you would have done the same for me again, I’m sure of it,” your voice sounded like a smile would, and God, would he give up everything to see that smile in person. He laughs to himself internally. How has this person made him so whipped for her in such a manner?

“I’m planning on going to Duskwood soon,” you had said out of the blue, bringing him back from his reverie.

“Absolutely not. In case you forgot my magnificent show of tears just now, the man without a face is threatening us to get to you. You coming here is the absolute worst thing to do,” Richy snorted, a mock indignant and wounded tone from him that made you chuckle.

“Well, how bad can it be? If we keep my arrival a secret from the rest of them, and spend the days, just you, me and Jessy, it wouldn’t hurt, would it? Someone needs to go there and give you a hug and take care of you,” you had replied back shortly, almost giving no thought to what you had said.

“Oh my, my lady, are you flirting with me?” Richy’s exaggerated gasp brought you back to reality, and his implication had your heart skipping beats.

“Well I mean… um…” you stuttered, and Richy swore your hesitance and stuttering made his heart soar just a little bit more in hope. But pursuing it is for another time.

“W-Well, someone needs to stop you from being such an eccedentesiast!” you had blurted out, extremely grateful that the distance makes it unable for him to see your bright red hot face.

His laughter after that sounds like the most genuine you have heard from him so far, and he might have said something along the lines of “nooo use small words, your idiot here doesn’t understand what that means,” but you couldn’t remember clearly. All you remembered was you thinking that you would give almost anything to protect that genuine tinkling laughter of his.

#duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood richy #duskwood mc

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ljf613 · 3 years

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Colonization & Imperialism in ATLA

One of the things I’ve noticed in fandom complaints about the ATLA comics-- namely, “The Promise”-- and subsequently, LOK’s worldbuilding, is the way the narrative handles colonization.

I see a lot about how what the Earth Kingdom chose to do with the former colonies is “none of Zuko’s (or Aang’s) business.” (I also see people talking about how Katara would never support colonialism, in any shape or form, no matter the circumstances.)

And I just.... don’t vibe with those ideas? At all?

Like, I definitely have problems with the comics-- especially “The Promise,” where all the drama centers around Miscommunications of Epic Proportions and could have been resolved in Part One if all the characters just sat down and listened to each other (not to mention that Aang would never have agreed to make that promise, nor would Zuko have asked it of him (Sokka would be a more obvious choice, but that’s a different discussion))-- but I never had any issues with their worldbuilding.

I love the idea of Yu Dao, and the fact that the narrative acknowledges that a new kind of world has new kinds of problems. It makes sense to me that we can’t always just “give back the land we took.” And I found the idea of the end solution being “give the people who live there their own country” really cool and empowering.

So I want to talk about why I feel this way. About what kind of real-world parallels can be made here. About some little-known bits of world-history that compare.

(Please note that for this meta I am only going to be discussing the relationship between Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. As far as I am aware-- and I could be wrong-- there is no real-world genocide quite comparible to what Sozin did to the Air Nomads, and most of the people alive in ATLA were not actually around for or involved in that. And the relationship the Fire Nation has with the Water Tribes-- and that the North and South have with each other-- is worth a whole separate analysis, and doesn’t deserve to just be shoved into this one.)

(Disclaimer: While this is in response to some of the interpretations I’ve seen on this site, it is not meant to discount or invalidate those fans’ views-- I’m just trying to show my take on it. I am a firm believer in the power of active discourse, and the value of looking at the same scenes through different lenses, rather than just getting one opinion and accepting it as Absolute Truth.)

The main thing I notice in general ATLA discourse-- and not just on this topic, but in any sort of meta about the Fire Nation, colonization, and global impact-- is that the fandom mostly compares the war and its after-affects to real-world Imperialism, the Age of Imperialism, New Imperialism, and Colonization.

And I understand why that is. In the grand scheme of world history, that era is still fairly recent, and we are still dealing with the afteraffects from it. It has shaped the Western World’s worldview on every level. (Not to mention that the Euro-centric way we’re taught history means that this piece of world history is the one we’re most exposed to, and so have the most understanding of and room to analyze/criticize.)

However, there are a few issues with sticking only to this perspective.

First off, the Age of Imperialism was a direct response to the Age of Exploration. This was the period of time when white Europeans sailed around the world acting as though they were discovering new places and pretending that there weren’t already existing civilizations there.

[ID: Two dots meme, edited so that Guy A says “i’ve discovered a NEW WORLD,” Guy B replies “you didn’t discover ****,” and Guy A insists “i’ve discovered it” / End ID.]

Now, I’ve mentioned this in passing, but the world of ATLA doesn’t appear to have had an Age of Exploration. There’s no vast “undiscovered” land masses, the four nations have always known about each other, and they all have a shared language.

The whole foundation for the Age of Imperialism was “oh, look, there are all these ‘unexplored’ lands with resources ripe for the picking (who cares about the indigenous people, they’re just simplistic savages who don’t know what’s best for them), let’s see which European country can grab the most land first.”

This was a race. This was sudden. This was Europeans coming in and taking over while viewing the natives as bothersome pests. This was about multiple major world powers competing over resources.

This was not 100 years of active warfare between a single conquering country and the very people they were trying to conquer.

The parallels don’t hold up.

Secondly, by focussing only on this one kind of historical narrative, we ignore any others.

I will admit that I have used the word “imperialism” in reference to the Fire Nation a time or two. However, upon further reflection, I realize I didn’t really mean imperialism, which is actually a fairly modern concept. What I feel the Fire Nation is really an example of is centralism and expansionism-- two ideaologies that have been a way of life for conquering empires throughout history.

(I am in no way qualified to explain the differences between these concepts-- I recommend doing your own research if you’re curious.)

The Persian Empire. The Greek Empire. The Roman Empire. The Byzantine Empire. The Mongolian Empire. The Russian Empire. The First French Empire.

You could take any of these (or numerous others) and make an interesting analysis between the similarities and differences between their behaviors and that of the Fire Nation. And maybe I’ll do that someday.

However, I started this to talk about Yu Dao and all of the other so-called colonies (I really feel like territories would be a better word, but, again, that’s a whole ’nother discussion), and I’d like to focus on that.

FYI, here’s a basic history refresher: If two countries are at war, and then they decide to end the war, neither country is required to return captured territories. They can make a treaty and agree to do so, but there is no obligation to. The Fire Nation didn’t just march in and say, “this is our land now”-- they fought for it. They captured that land. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean they need to just give it back.

Like it or not, that is the way the world operated for thousands of years, and so that is the interpretation I’m working with here.

In any case, “The Promise” actually presents this as a three-way conversation. There’s Zuko (and, by default, the Fire Nation), Kuei (and, by default, Ba Sing Se and the Earth Kingdom), and the people of Yu Dao themselves.

(My understanding of the Earth Kingdom’s style of government is that it’s made up of a large collection of different ethno-cultural regions who all answer to Ba Sing Se.)

I’ll let Sokka explain it:

[ID: Comic panel from Part Three of “The Promise.” Sokka and Katara are talking, both in obvious states of agitation, while Suki and Toph are looking at something in the background. Sokka is saying, “Let me see if I got this. The protestors and the Earth Kingdom Army want the colonials to go, the Fire Nation Army wants the colonials to stay, and the Yu Dao Resistance just want their city to be left alone?” Katara responds, “Yes!” / End ID.]

The people of Yu Dao don’t care about the war. They don’t even really care who’s in charge. They just want to be left alone.

This speaks to me on a very personal level, so I’m going to make another real-world comparison here:

My ancestors first came to America to escape from the poverty and opression they were experiencing in a place known as “White Russia”-- that is, Belarus. To be clear, I am not talking about the country “Belarus,” but the region, which includes the modern-day countries of Lithuania, Ukraine, Belarus, Latvia and Moldova, as well as parts of Poland and Russia.

I looked up White Russia, trying to find out how much information someone who didn’t grow up hearing stories about what it was like (that is, most of the people reading this,) might have. I didn’t find much. Most of what I found talked about political ideologies and such-- things that your average poor peasant, struggling just eke out a living, didn’t have much energy to care about. So let me paint a(n oversimplified) picture for you.

Imagine you’re a poor shoemaker in a small town on the Russian border. You spend your days hard at work, trying to earn a living to support your wife and nine children. You’ve never left the town you were born in. One day you get the news: Russia and Poland are fighting again. Your two oldest sons (ages 15 and 17) are forcibly drafted off to fight in the Russian army; you never see them again and have no way of knowing if they’re dead or alive (they’re probably dead). Poland wins-- this time. Congratulations, your town is now part of Poland.

Does suddenly being Polish make a difference to your life? Not in the slightest. Two or three years down the line, you’ll go back to being part of Russia again. This is the third or fourth time you’ve seen your town switch hands, and you can’t say you prefer one government over the other. It doesn’t really matter who’s in charge-- you’re still faced with crippling taxes, forced drafts, and various other forms of oppression. (It doesn’t help that you happen to be part of a persecuted minority.)

(This is why I have many ancestors who may never have left the town they were born in, and yet records show that they were born in one country, got married in another, and died in a third.)

This is the kind of worldview through which I am looking at Yu Dao. (Obviously, it’s not an exact parallel, but neither is the standard “colonizers vs oppressed natives” lens.)

My ancestors eventually got fed up with the treatment they were receiving from their respective governments, and left to build a new life, in a new place. But the citizens of Yu Dao don’t have anywhere to go. The only two real world powers in this story are the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, neither of which has ever before expressed any true interest or concern in the actual people of Yu Dao.

The Earth Kingdom didn’t really care about the city before the war-- they were just another poor, struggling town, whose citizens were barely able to make ends meet. And while the Fire Nation may have helped the place grow into a bustling town, they also established a hierarchy that did not serve in the citizens’ best interests.

And so, in “The Promise,” these citizens’ frustrations come to a head. “Enough,” they say, “we don’t want to be used as a pawn in your games anymore.”

And Zuko and Kuei (and Aang) actually listen. They say “we need to start thinking about these people as people, not as symbols of one side or the other. It’s time to give them a say in their future.”

And a new country-- a new way of life-- is born.

(Is it perfect? Absolutely not. But it is constantly evolving and changing, trying to do better, be better. And that’s more than you can say about most of the other countries in this world.)

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I Thought About The Mitchells vs. the Machines

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is up there as one of the best installments of the MCU. Sure, the action and CGI sucks, and the season finale could use a bit more polish, but there is so much more of what it does right. It brings up an engaging discussion through Karli; the bromance between Bucky and Sam is incredible; Zemo's surprisingly a riot, and U.S. Agent is a character whose inner psychology is something I would like to study. Plus, the series really dives deep into the themes of race and the realistic hesitance that comes with making a black man Captain America. It's easily an 8/10 series that is worth an in-depth discussion.

But f**k that s**t, because I'm talking about The Mitchells vs. the Machines instead!

I know it might be questionable that reviewing a movie starring a predominantly white family of idiots saving the world instead of the TV series about the powerful journey of a black man taking the mantle of an American icon...but this movie is fun, alright? And yes, I'm going to spoil it to explain how. So if you still have a Netflix account, I highly suggest you check it out when you have time.

Because, random people on the internet who most likely won't read this, this Ordinary Schmuck who writes stories and reviews and draws comics and cartoons is going to explain why The Mitchells vs. the Machines might just be my favorite film of the year (steep contest, I know).

WHAT I LIKE

The Animation: Let's get this out of the way right here and right now: If a single person ever tells you that this movie has awful animation, or the worst animation they have ever seen, just go ahead and assume that person is an idiot. Because holy hot cheese sticks, does this movie look amazing!

Say what you want about most of Sony Pictures Animation's movies, but you have to admit that they nail making a CGI movie looking like it could be in 2D. And The Mitchells vs. The Machines is the peak of that style. Every character in nearly every frame looks like they could work well if the movie was hand-drawn, and I love it. I am addicted to seeing films that look 2D with a 3D makeover because there has to be ten times the amount of effort to get that look just right, what with modeling each character in unique ways to nail that style wherein a hand-drawn film, you could just, well, draw it. Not to mention that the cell-shading and certain hand-drawn elements also add to the aesthetic.

Plus, there is so much attention to details, such as most of Katie's character model being covered in sharpie, or how you can see a hint of Eric and Deborabot 3000's drawn on faces even though their black screens are showing something else. Seriously, you can listen to any criticism this movie gets, but don't you dare let someone get away with telling you that it looks awful. It doesn't. It's incredible, and I SO wish that I could have seen it all on the big screen.

The Comedy: On top of being incredibly well-animated, this movie is also incredibly funny. Like, really funny. I shouldn't be surprised since it's made by the same people responsible for Clone High and The Lego Movie, but yeah, I found myself laughing, chuckling, and snorting with nearly every joke in the film. Not every joke works, to be fair. But because of the fast-paced humor, the bad jokes are almost immediately followed up with better ones soon after. What's even better is that the writers know when to take a break with the humor and let some surprisingly compelling drama take over. And even then, when there are jokes during the dramatic moments, they add sincerity to the scene rather than take anything away. Looking at you, The Amazing World of Gumball...I mean, I love you, but sheesh, you need to learn to let a solemn moment play out.

Anyways, the comedy is hilarious. And while I won't spoil every joke, I will go over some bits that might have gotten to me the most.

Katie Mitchell: Let's just go ahead and add Katie Mitchell to the list of characters I highly relate to on a personal level (which is getting longer by the minute, hot damn). But jokes aside, I really like Katie. Her love and desire to make movies is something I identify with, and her goal to just go to a place where she feels like she belongs is easy to understand. Trust me, if I found out there was a group of weirdos who like the same things I do and enjoy the things I make, I’d be willing to pack everything I have and go to them as fast as possible too. Plus, I feel like a lot of us can relate to a character who lives in a household where people question if our career goal is something we can make a living with. I remember two years ago when I told my aunt that I wanted to make my own animated series, and her reaction is a little too similar to Rick's when Katie showed him her movie. They mean well, but sometimes it's for the best to have a cheerleader rather than a critic, especially if that person is family.

Now, Katie isn't perfect as her enthusiasm can get a little annoying at times, and her desire to leave can be conceived as a little too harsh as well. Still, she's pretty cool and serves her role as a protagonist pretty well...also, if the movie gets a sequel, let's hope she and Jude become cannon by then. GIVE KATIE A GIRLFRIEND, DAMN IT!

Aaron Mitchell: But as great as Katie is, it's this goober that earns the reward for my favorite character. At times it looks like Aaron is nothing more than a source of comedy, but he handles some dramatic moments really well. Partial credit goes to Michael Rianda for that one. Yeah, having a child actor would have made Aaron sound more like a kid, but no other voice could have fit him better than what Michael offers as he comes across as weird but never obnoxious.

Also, let's give the writer points for making a character who is clearly neurodivergent. Yet also refraining from having him be annoying or useless to the rest of the cast. No one ever really disrespects or belittles Aaron and instead chooses to work with him rather than against him. Especially Katie, who forms a solid sibling bond with Aaron as a fellow weirdo. It's genuinely sweet to see, and I loved every minute that the writers showed that just because someone acts on a different wavelength doesn't mean they shouldn't be treated any less because of it. You get that with Katie, a little bit, but I see it much more with Aaron, for some reason. And I love him every minute, so that’s a win.

(Plus, I may or may not have had a dinosaur phase when I was younger, so go ahead and add him to the list of relatable characters too.)

Rick Mitchell: This is probably a character you will either love or hate, and I can see both sides of that argument. Because on the one hand, I really like Rick Mitchell. His motivation is clear and understandable from the first set of home videos with him and Katie, both near the beginning and the end. Sure, he messes up a lot, but he is still a man who cares deeply about his daughter, as well as his entire family. He gets to the point where he would make great sacrifices for all of them, especially Katie. Plus, it's just pleasant seeing a cartoon dad who isn't a complete idiot or overprotective regarding his daughter's love life.

However, there are times when Rick comes across as an irresponsible d**k. When he does things like smash the family's phones without telling them or giving them screwdrivers for "presents," you're either gonna find that funny or you won't. Personally, I enjoy Rick and his antics, and I have no problem with irresponsible cartoon dads. As long as they don't cross the line toward Modern-Peter Griffin territory, I've got no problem with dads like Rick, who I believe has never even got that bad. Still, some people might think differently, and I can't blame them. Because after getting great cartoon dads like Greg Universe, I can understand if some people won't be interested in characters like Rick Mitchell.

Rick’s and Katie’s relationship: Alongside the top-notch animation and gut-busting comedy, Rick and Katie's relationship is what I consider the movie's most essential asset. These two are the main characters of the film, and as such, they develop through each other. And what's crazy is that they have very conflicting goals. Katie wants to escape and be with her people, where Rich just wants one last chance to have a good memory with Katie before she leaves. To do so, they first have to understand each other. Katie has to learn why Rick is so desperate to spend time with her, and Rick has to realize why Katie is, well, Katie. What I love most about it is that they try. These two don't spend the entire movie arguing and being at each other's throats until a sudden "Oh" moment in the end. No, there are actual moments when they genuinely try to understand one another and fix their relationship. It's nice to watch, and I especially love when it cuts to Linda and Aaron celebrating each time Katie and Rick get closer to each other. When recommending this movie, I'd say come for the animation and comedy, stay for the phenomenal relationship building.

Monchi: There are probably people already comparing Monchi to Mater or the Minions due to being a comic relief with nothing else to add...but gosh dangit, do I love this little gentleman. Maybe it's because I'm a dog person, but I find Monchie to be incredibly adorable, and I will fight anybody who disrespects this king of kings. Probably not physically, 'cause I'm a wuss, but I will verbally. So WATCH IT!

“HeLlO. i Am DoG.”: Have I mentioned that this movie is funny?

Rick’s videotapes of him and Katie: And right there. Rick's motivation for everything is set in stone through a solid case of visual storytelling.

PAL: The writers do almost everything they should have with this character. PAL might not have the most creative evil plan in the world, but to me, a villain can have a generic scheme as long as they're funny. Thankfully, PAL is funny. Not only is the idea of a smartphone ruling the planet hilarious in all the right ways, but Olivia Colman delivers such a great cynical energy that the character needs. The way PAL reacts to people explaining why humans are worth living is just the best, and her flopping around in a fit of rage successfully gets to me.

If I had to nitpick, I'd say that I wish PAL had more of a meaningful resolution to her character. The movie builds up that she makes a big deal about Mark dropping her, so it feels weird that neither of them really get any actual closure with each other. I'll get more into that in the dislikes, but I wish PAL had more of a fitting end than just dying after accidentally getting dropped in a glass of water. Other than that, she's a great comedic villain for a comedic movie.

PAL MAX Robots: These guys are the funniest characters in the movie. Half of it is the bits of visual humor, while the other half comes from the solid line delivery from Beck Bennett. Especially with Bennett's and Fred Armisen's Eric and Deborahbot 3000. These two are definitely the comedic highlights, as nearly every line they say is both hilarious and kind of adorable at times. And just like with Monchi, if you dare disrespect these characters, I will fight you. Because they are funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

PAL demonstrating what it’s like to be a phone: Have I mentioned that this movie is funny?

(Don't disrespect your phones, kids. Otherwise, they'll try to take over the world.)

PAL turning off the Wi-Fi: Again, have I mentioned this movie is funny?

“I love the dog. You love the dog. We all love the dog. But at some point, you’re gonna have to eat the dog.”: It's the sick jokes that get to me the most. Everyone booing Rick afterward is just the cherry on top.

Attack of the Furbies: Have I. Mentioned. That this movie. Is funny?

Seriously, if you haven't lost your s**t during every second of this scene, then you never had to deal with the demonic entity that is a Furby. In a way, I commend you. But you also don't get to appreciate the comedic genius of all of this. So I also weirdly feel bad for you.

The Mitchells deciding how to celebrate: You don't have a real family if you spend more time arguing about how to celebrate after saving the world than you do about how to save the world. I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

The PAL MAX Primes: There's not much to say about them. The PAL MAX primes look and act pretty cool, are brilliantly animated, and raise the stakes while still being funny at times. I love 'em, but I don't have much to analyze with them either.

The origin of the moose: ...I'd make the "I didn't need my heart anyway" joke, but to be honest, it's still shattered after WandaVision.

(For real, though, this is a really effective scene that establishes why Rick makes a big deal with the moose and why he might feel hurt that Katie is willing to disregard it completely)

The Theme of Technology and Social Media: There's a theme about how family is important, and working hard on making things work is worth the effort. But that's a bit too generic for my tastes, so instead, I'm gonna talk about the equally important message this movie has about technology. Because as twisted as she is, PAL makes a great point. The technology we have today helps us in a variety of ways. It's especially useful with sites like YouTube, allowing content creators like Katie to reach out and share their voices. The only issue with technology is how people use it. Take note that the main reason why the Mitchells stand a chance against PAL is by using her own tech against her. Yes, over-relying on all the advancements around us can be dangerous, but if we're smart with how we use them, we can get by just fine. This movie isn't about purging all technology like most robot apocalypse stories are. Instead, it's about using it correctly and not being helpless sheep the second the Wi-Fi gets turned off. Which might just be the most unique thing this movie has going for it story-wise (more on that later).

The Climax: The Mitchells vs. The Machines has everything that I think I climax should have. First off, it utilizes callbacks and jokes that I wouldn't have thought twice on actually coming in handy for how the Mitchells win the day. But showing that Monchi causes the robots to malfunction turns a pretty "eh" joke into a solid case of foreshadowing.

Second, everyone does something. Some characters do more than others, sure, but the fact that every Mitchell, even Monchi, has a hand in beating PAL and her robots is a great sense of writing to me. It shows that you really can't cut anyone from the main cast, as they each add value to how they are essential to the plot. Even Aaron, who arguably does the least in the climax, still manages to be the catalyst to what is easily the best scene in the movie. Speaking of which...

Linda Kicks Ass: By the way, that's the actual name on the soundtrack. I'm not even kidding. Check it.

Anyways, for the most part, Linda seemed like a decent cartoon mom. She's insanely supportive but still has the common sense to keep her foot down, like agreeing with Rick to stay safe in the dino stop the second the apocalypse starts. A pretty fun character, for sure, but nothing too noteworthy...but the second she loses her s**t, Linda Mitchell frickin' SKYROCKETS to the best-cartoon-mom territory! Believe me when I tell you that seeing her slice and dice robots like a middle-aged female Samurai Jack is as awesome as it is hilarious. Does it make sense how she can suddenly do this? No, but at the same time, who gives a s**t about common sense?! Because this moment was epic, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching it over and over again.

Rick Learning How to Internet...Again: I consider this the funniest moment in the movie. Trust me, the Furby scene is a close, close, CLOSE, second...but I think this scene was funnier.

The final goodbye: This is what I'm talking about when I say humor adds to the dramatic moments. The Mitchells saying "I love you" in moose is pretty funny, but it's also a sweet moment given that this is absolutely how this family of weirdos would say goodbye to each other. And, yeah, I got a little misty-eyed during this scene. Especially when Rick saw Katie pocketing the moose. That s**t just cuts deep, man.

Alex Hirsch Voices a Character: ...That's it. I look up to Alex Hirsh as everything I want to be as a creator, and the fact that his name is on this movie fills me with joy. He's also a story consultant, so that can also explain why the movie turned out as great as it did...although there are some imperfections.

WHAT I DISLIKE

Katie-vision: What's Katie-vision? Well, throughout the movie, we get to see how Katie views the world as there are these hand-drawn elements that look like effects Katie would add if she was the one who made the movie. At times it can be subtle and cute, like when this little beating heart appears when Katie is talking with Jude and her other friends. It's when the movie is in your face with Katie-vision does it get annoying. Like showing how Katie is lying about being certain she can drive up a vertical ramp or signifying what is the Rick Mitchell Special. Even if you justify that this would be how Katie would edit the movie, it still doesn't change how obnoxious these moments can be. For instance, Monchi is justified to be essential for the plot, but that doesn't mean people won't hate him...I'll still fight them if they do, but that's beside the point.

I can totally accept this being a personal issue, as I'm sure some people enjoy it. As for me, I think Katie-vision works best when used subtly instead of crudely.

The Meme humor: It's something similar here. Because some people like meme humor...but I don't. To me, it just dates your story if you reference memes even once. Now, a show, movie, or book being partially dated is nothing new. We Bare Bears, a series that I love, reference memes, apps, and social media constantly. Yet, the show still has a timeless feel to it as it doesn't rely on those references too much. The Mitchells vs. the Machines doesn't rely on memes as much either. But even then, that doesn't make a difference about how annoying that gibbon monkey joke was. Seriously, what the f**k was that? And how is THAT the joke that gets used twice!?

Underutilizing Mark Bowman: It really bothers me how this guy barely does much. I mean, Mark Bowman is the main reason that anything happens in the movie. Because he mistreated PAL, Mark acts as the catalyst for events to come. So the fact that he could have been written out the second PAL takes control doesn't make sense to me. It's worse since I could see more potential with his character through his relationship with PAL. These two could be anti-Rick and Katie, as Mark and PAL show what happens when people disrespect their family. So separating them halfway through the story, and keeping them as such, is a huge mistake as it results in neither having a proper resolution to their arcs. Like I said, Rick and Katie develop through each other, and the same could have happened with Mark and PAL. It doesn't, making it something that I can't help but feel disappointed about.

The Poseys: These are characters I feel like work better with multiple appearances. Sure, they only have the one joke about being a perfect family, but at the same time, you can make a joke like that work. Look at Yvonne from Shaun of the Dead (Which might just be my favorite movie). That's a bit-character whose only purpose is showing how better she is than Shaun despite being in an eerily similar situation. But she works well as we constantly see how great she's doing in every instance we see her. The same could be done with the Poseys, as using a similar joke for one scene is underutilizing great potential to make an already good movie into a better one.

Plus, if you're gonna shoehorn in a romance between Aaron and Abby Posey, the least you could do is have more than one scene developing that...just saying.

Katie’s and Rick’s “Oh” Moments: I want to make it clear that I actually like these scenes. They're well written and effectively emotional. My problem is that they also happen two seconds apart. There's nothing wrong with having a character realize the error of their ways through a tear-jerking moment. It's a popular tactic for a reason. And given how both Rick and Katie are the protagonists, they both need their own "oh" moment. But you gotta space them out, as it makes things easier to see the emotional manipulation that you're clearly trying to pull on the audience. They work, but putting them back to back is an issue easily solved with at least two minutes of padding, not two seconds.

Katie’s Death Fakeout: This is one of the few instances that a joke doesn't work in the movie, made even more annoying with the fact that I could see the punchline a mile away and kept thinking, "Just get to it already." I'm pretty sure no one bought this, especially when Katie didn't look like she could have gotten killed in any way after throwing PAL. It's poorly handled and proof that even the funniest comedies have a stale joke every now and again.

Nothing New is really being done here: Keep in mind that in terms of style, this movie is incredibly innovative. And here's hoping future animated projects can take notes. But narratively speaking? Yeah, there's nothing really new that this movie is offering.

A story about how technology will be the death of us? Been there.

A story about a group of idiots miraculously saving the world? Done that.

A story about a father forcing their teenager on a road trip so they can spend quality time with each other, thus ruining the teen's chance of hanging out with their girlfriend? Believe it or not, I have seen A Goofy Movie...multiple times...both as a kid and as an adult.

Now, I have no issue with a movie's plot being a bit by-the-books, and in some cases, cliche. If done effectively, and if I still have a good time, I don't think there’s much to complain about. And there isn't with The Mitchells vs. The Machines. The problem lies with that I'll forget this movie along with the dozens of others like it in a couple years. Which might just be the biggest issue any film can have.

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Overall, I'd give The Mitchells vs. the Machines a well-earned A-. It has nitpicks, sure, but it's still a blast to watch. It might not be innovative or groundbreaking as movies like the last Sony Pictures Animation movie, Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse. However, it is fun. And when the world is burning down around us, it's nice to have a fun movie that can distract us from all of it. So feel free to log in to Netflix the next time you're in the mood for a film that is great for the whole family. You won’t be disapointed

(And I will talk about The Falcon and the Winter Soldier pretty soon. I just needed to get this out of my system first.)

#the mitchells vs the machines #what i thought about

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alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 3 years

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About Time [G.W] - Part 3

pairing: George Weasley x OC

series description: On an unexpected night out, George meets the love of his life. And then suddenly loses her. What lengths will he go to in order to find her?

word count: 2.7k

warnings: slight language

taglist: @p0gues4l @amourtentiaa @305weasley

series masterlist

“Ready George?” Fred called. George had been fixing his hair for the last 20 minutes. He wanted to make sure he looked perfect.

“Just a few more minutes!” he called to his brother. Fred popped his head into the bathroom where George was running his fingers through his hair. “Do I look okay?” George asked.

“You look as handsome as always. But perhaps a little over-styled…” George’s hair was gelled into place, an unusual look for him. Fred ruffled his auburn locks, releasing his hair from the hold of the gel. “Much better,” he stated. George looked polished, yet casual with his newly messy hair. He looked good without looking like he was trying too hard. It was perfect.

George thanked his brother and they gathered their things to head to the concert. George had immediately bought them tickets to the Weird Sisters when he saw the poster. Not only was Fred excited for his brother to meet up with his soul mate, but he was happy to have a night out.

“So, do you have a plan for tonight?” Fred asked.

George shrugged and said, “I hadn’t really thought about it. I’ll know what to do once I see her.”

“Do you need a wingman? You know I’m terrific at that,” Fred stated.

“I actually feel perfectly charming tonight. I think I’ll be alright on my own, but I will happily fix you up with whatever friend she’s with.”

“Ah, how kind of you Georgie.” The two reached the crowded club and headed straight to the bar for a drink. George immediately had his radar on, searching for Molly. He wanted to spot her first, and then he would figure out how to talk to her. Being tall was certainly advantageous in this situation, but there were still a lot of people to sift through and it was rather dark.

Fred handed George a brew and they found a spot near the door, keeping an eye on concertgoers still filtering in.

“Remind me what she looks like again?” Fred asked, scanning the crowd.

“She’s small, maybe 5’ 2” or 5’ 3” and she has straight dark brown hair that’s about shoulder length. And she has light eyes and freckles and the most amazing smile. It’s like-“

“I can work with that,” Fred said, cutting him off. George decided to take a lap around the venue to see if he spotted Molly. Fred would stay by the door and watch to see if she walked in.

George took his time walking around, studying anyone that showed even the slightest resemblance. But he knew as soon as he saw her, his heart would skip a beat and that would be the indicator he needed. He circled the place once more but still couldn’t find her. George made his way back towards Fred and noticed he was engaged in conversation with a woman. It should have annoyed him that Fred was distracted, but oddly enough it didn’t. He joined his brother and was briefly introduced to the new dame before they quickly parted ways.

“Sorry mate. I promise she came up to me, I was focused on finding your girl,” Fred said.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re allowed some fun. Besides, I don’t think she’s here yet.” The two of them eventually migrated toward the stage, as the opening act came on. Every so often Fred would nudge George and point to a short brunette, to which George would shake his head. He was starting to get nervous that she wouldn’t come, but he held out hope. After all, she had said she never misses a show. George tried to relax and enjoy the concert. He had plenty of time to find her.

As the opener’s set was coming to a close, George made a trip to the bar for another round of drinks. The bar was essentially empty and he easily placed his order and waited for the bartender to pour a round of fire whiskey. His order finished the bottle, so he had to wait a few moments as the barback went in back to grab a replacement. He leaned on the bar to wait and suddenly there was someone next to him.

“Can I get two fire whiskeys please?” the voice said. George froze, recognizing the sweet American accent.

“It’ll be just a moment. We’re waiting on a new bottle,” said the barkeep.

“I suppose I should apologize for that,” George said, turning to her. She looked up at him and he was immediately struck by her piercing green eyes. George smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Finishing all the fire whiskey and making me wait for a drink. How dare you,” she joked.

“I know. I’m surprised they haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“Oh I can make that happen, do you want me to get the bouncer?” she said sarcastically.

“Careful love. If you do that, I won’t be able to pay for your drinks.”

“I am perfectly capable of buying my drinks,” she said.

“I know you are, but I want to buy your drinks. It’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do?”

“I believe I owe you for a night of wonderful conversation in complete darkness.”

George smiled at her and something in her expression changed slightly, like she was putting everything together.

“Oh shit,” she said, looking him up and down, “George Weasley. You really need to have your storefront redone. It doesn’t do you justice.”

“Oh, that’s Fred out front. If it were me he’d be much more handsome.”

She laughed, “How’d you know it was me?”

“Not many people in London with an American accent.”

“Ah of course. That is my giveaway.”

The bartender placed four glasses in front of them and George quickly paid before Molly could protest.

“Are you here with Angelina?” she nodded and he added, “Fred and I are standing right over there if you’d like to join us. I will make sure that Fred is on his best behavior.”

“What about you? Are you going to be on your best behavior?”

“I can’t make any promises,” he smirked. She smiled and said, “I’ll grab her and we’ll come right over.”

George returned to Fred as the crowd started to migrate toward the bar for a refill before the Weird Sisters came on.

“I found her,” George said with a stupid grin on his face.

“I never doubted you for a second.”

“And she’s coming over here. With Angelina. So please don’t ruin this for me.”

“I will be the perfect gentleman,” he said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” George replied.

Fred shrugged as Molly and Angelina joined them.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t Fred Weasley,” Angelina said.

“Ang! Darling, how are you?” He said, kissing both her cheeks. She rolled her eyes but smiled. Molly fell into place next to George and said, “Is he always like this?”

“More or less.”

“Then they should get along great,” she joked.

“I have to say Molly, I am a little offended that you haven��t come into the shop yet. You claim to be a troublemaker.”

“Oh I am. I just don’t need cheap tricks to play pranks.”

George dramatically put his hand over his heart, “Ouch.”

“Are you that fragile? I have so much more to dish out.”

“I can take it, as long as you can take it back.”

“Do your worst,” she said.

“I didn’t want to have to bring up Kenmare this early, but if you insist.”

She shook her head and smiled, “Damn, hit me where it hurts the most.”

“How about we call a temporary truce. You don’t insult me, I don’t insult you, and we enjoy the concert.”

“Okay, but just until the concert ends,” she held out her hand and George shook it.

The lights went down and the crowd started cheering as the band came out on stage. Molly cheered and a huge smile spread across her face as the music started. George shifted his attention between the band and Molly, as she mouthed every word and moved to the music. Fred and Angelina took turns bringing them drinks and George realized he was feeling a little more than tipsy. And by the looks of it, so was Molly.

Towards the end of the set, Molly turned toward him and grabbed his hand, saying “This is one of my favorites!” She then pulled him forward and started dancing with him. It started out innocent enough, with the two of them facing each other and moving to the music. And then Molly took George’s hand and turned around so that she was dancing in front of him, her body pressed ever so slightly against his. The height difference between them was almost comical, with him at 6’3” and her barely at 5’3”.

The song came to an end and the mood shifted as the Weird Sisters played one of their few slower songs. Molly took George’s other hand and lightly wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She leaned her head back into his chest as they swayed to the music, watching the band the whole time. George was trying to suppress the butterflies that were currently in his stomach and simply enjoy the moment. Soon the music ended and it appeared the concert was over. Molly turned around and gave George a small smile. She motioned with her fingers for him to come closer and he bent down. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and George took her hand and squeezed it as they separated.

People started filtering out now as the lights came back on. Molly and George were still holding hands as they followed Fred and Angelina, who were bantering back and forth, and George sighed in relief when they felt the cool spring air hit them. The four of them walked about a block and stopped, determining their next move. Molly and Angelina were talking to each other when Fred said, “Would either of you care for a pint at the Leaky Cauldron?”

Angelina looked toward Molly for an answer and she replied, “I wish we could, but we should get back. Rain check?”

“Sure,” George said. The four of them stood there awkwardly for a moment when Fred broke the silence.

“Well my lady, it has been a pleasure,” Fred said, kissing Angelina’s hand. She rolled her eyes and Fred gently pulled her away from George and Molly. George heard her say, “What are you doing?” and Fred replied, “Shhh…I’m giving them some privacy.”

“That was subtle,” Molly commented.

“For what it’s worth, I had a great time tonight,” George said.

“Me too,” she nodded.

“Listen Molly, would you like to go out sometime?”

“Oh, so now that you know what I look like, you’re suddenly interested?” she challenged.

“Ah that’s actually not it at all,” she waited for further explanation. “I was interested that night in the dark. And I tried to tell you before we walked out, but you stopped me.”

“You certainly didn’t seem interested.”

George sighed, “I know. I’m still trying to figure out what happened to me that night. I was nervous and I froze up.”

“You don’t strike me as the nervous type.”

“I’m usually not, but you were perfect and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and screw it up.”

She ran her fingers through her hair and said, “Shit George, I really wish you would’ve told me that when we first met.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Because I liked you, but now I’m sort of seeing someone.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointed.

“It’s new, but it’s been going well.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“It was at a Prophet party a few weeks ago. I met him towards the end of the night and we went out for a drink afterwards.”

George looked down at his feet and nodded, “Sure, got it. I…uh…I hope it goes well.”

“I’m sorry George,” she said sincerely.

“It’s fine, really. I hope you had fun tonight,” he said, making his way back toward Fred. Molly stood there and watched him tread back to Fred, with a look of uncertainty on her face. Angelina rushed back towards her and the two took off.

“How’d it go?” Fred asked.

George just shook his head, “She has a boyfriend.”

“You’re joking,” Fred said. George shook his head again, “Well she certainly wasn’t acting like she had a boyfriend in there.”

“I should’ve told her that first night. Things would’ve been completely different.”

Fred consoled him as they apparated back to the apartment. George sat down at the table and Fred immediately opened two butterbeers for them.

“I never thought I could go from feeling so happy to so sad in such a short period of time.”

“Alright mate, before you get carried away in the dramatics, let’s go through the facts. Molly likes you. As evidenced in the way she was acting around you tonight.”

“Maybe she’s just flirty. And we had been drinking a lot.”

“I don’t buy that. The way Molly was looking at you, she wasn’t just flirting. And she told you to your face that she likes you.”

“No, she said she liked me. As in past tense.”

“Don’t get hung up on that. The way I saw it, she was more than interested in you tonight.”

“What does it matter,” George stated, taking another sip of his drink.

“Stay with me here. We know that she started dating someone only a few weeks ago. It’s a new relationship. Things could happen.”

“Sure, but I don’t know that I have the patience to wait for something to happen.”

“Have you thought about just trying to be friends with her for now?”

“The last thing I want to do is put myself in the friend zone. I don’t want to see her with someone else who makes her happy.”

“Fair enough,” Fred said as he took a big sip from his drink. Seeing George hurting was killing him, and he knew he had to take action to help him. “Did she tell you how she met this boyfriend?”

“Yeah, she said they met at a Prophet event a few weeks ago,” George replied.

Fred got up and started sifting through the pile of mail sitting on the table. “Could it be this Daily Prophet Fundraiser we were invited to about two weeks ago?” Fred asked with a grimace, holding up an invitation they had received.

“Fuck, Fred,” George said, putting his head in his hands. Fred always went through the mail, and truthfully he didn’t think anything of this invitation. The Prophet was always inviting them to events since they often took out advertisements in the paper. Fred hadn’t put two and two together. He recalled George saying Molly worked for the Daily Prophet but they never attended the events they were invited to it. Out of habit he pushed the invitation aside.

“I’m sorry, I never even thought about it.”

He sighed, “I know, I know. It’s not your fault.”

“But we can fix this,” Fred said, a smile spreading over his face.

“We can?” George asked.

“We can. With the time turner.”

“Fred…” George said, concerned.

“Don’t argue with me. We can totally do this. You know she likes you. We just have to find her before this other guy does.” George was considering the offer when Fred added, “Do you really think she’s the one?”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to do this. Or else it might never happen for you two.”

“I want to, more than anything, but it’s risky Fred.”

“I know it’s risky, and this decision is up to you. But just know I will be there with you if you want to go.”

George was weighing the pros and cons in his head. He knew messing with time could be dangerous, but this might be a once in a lifetime opportunity. He chugged the rest of his butterbeer and said, “Let’s do it.” Fred finished his butterbeer with a smile and the two planned out how exactly this would go down.

#george weasley fanfic #george weasley x oc #george weasley x reader #weasley twins fanfic #george weasley

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the April 2021 Edition

I did not read Romeo and Juliet this month. I read a bunch of other books. Like, a bunch. More than one series. Because Big Bang burnout is real and grown adults missing their deadlines is a real good way to stress me out. So, I read a bunch. Good books, very bad books, books that caused limbs to flail. For positive and not-so-positive reasons. Naturally, all those reasons must be shared. Under the cut with occasionally long and rant-prone reviews, as well as spoilers. Beware of spoilers under the cut. Please keep telling me what to read, internet. My library wish list is almost comically long now.

GIVE ME ALL THE WORLD BUILDING AND SNARK AND FIGHTING! WITH MAGIC! AND SWORDS! IT’S MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!

Shades of Magic Series by V.E. Schwab

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

— Picture it, approximately twelve forty-seven am. My husband is asleep. I am reading. The second book in this series ends. And I say, right out loud, at what might now be twelve forty-eight am, HOLY SHIT IT JUST ENDED. Justin thought we were under attack. No man has ever snapped awake quicker. He was not pleased. At least not in the same way that I was about these books. Which I goddamn LOVED. Loved. The world building. The magic. The banter. Rhy and Kell’s relationship. Once more. RHY AND KELL’S RELATIONSHIP. Which I might have cared about more than the romance??? Maybe??? I cannot get over how good this world building was. I know people have quips with it, and that’s fair. I saw the “twist” coming in the first book, and I think trying to preserve that left some plot holes that are understandably frustrating. Because Lilah definitely needed depth perception to fight as well as she did. Also did Schwab really refer to her as a cross dresser in her author’s note? Yikes. She wore a dude’s jacket, like—c’mon V.E. Other than that though. I loved it. Also shout out to @peglegsjones for suggesting this one in my 2020 post and call out to me for taking so long to read it.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone. . . . A convict with a thirst for revenge. A sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wager. A runaway with a privileged past. A spy known as the Wraith. A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums. A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes. Six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist. Kaz's crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

— I’ve talked about how little I cared about anything that happened in Shadow and Bone before, but I kept seeing gifs of the Crows in the Netflix show and my brain was like: huh, I could like them. So, after some help from the very helpful internet, I’m happy to report I do in fact like them. At one point, I slunk into the couch. Like that’s how overcome with emotion I was. Kaz ripped a dude’s eye out! For Inej! Matthias loved Nina’s laugh! I would like to hug Jesper. Seriously, this hit all my high points and world building and banter and I lol’ed at “scheming face.” I would like my hold to come through faster on the sequel.

THEY DID NOT CALL INTERMISSION HALFTIME AND MY COLLEGE EXPERIENCE WAS WAY DIFFERENT THAN THESE KIDS

The Off Campus Series by Elle Kennedy

Hannah Wells has finally found someone who turns her on. But while she might be confident in every other area of her life, she’s carting around a full set of baggage when it comes to sex and seduction. If she wants to get her crush’s attention, she’ll have to step out of her comfort zone and make him take notice…even if it means tutoring the annoying, childish, cocky captain of the hockey team in exchange for a pretend date. All Garrett Graham has ever wanted is to play professional hockey after graduation, but his plummeting GPA is threatening everything he’s worked so hard for. If helping a sarcastic brunette make another guy jealous will help him secure his position on the team, he’s all for it. But when one unexpected kiss leads to the wildest sex of both their lives, it doesn’t take long for Garrett to realize that pretend isn’t going to cut it. Now he just has to convince Hannah that the man she wants looks a lot like him.

— The first book in this series was free on Amazon. So, I read it. And really liked it??? It was so chock full of cliches and badly written tropes and Garrett probably should have accepted that Hannah didn’t want to go out at the start, but like—he was cute? And as we all know I am TRASH™ for stories set in the same verse, so, like, I just kept reading these trashy college hockey books. Trashy is a compliment here. God, these kids had so much sex. So much. An incredible amount, really. I once had a guy tell me he was physically attracted to me, but not emotionally attracted to me in college. Like, that was my college experience. The first and second books were the best, I think. I didn’t really like Dean that much.

MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS A RABBI???

The Intimacy Experiement by Rosie Danan

Naomi Grant has built her life around going against the grain. After the sex-positive start-up she cofounded becomes an international sensation, she wants to extend her educational platform to live lecturing. Unfortunately, despite her long list of qualifications, higher ed won't hire her. Ethan Cohen has recently received two honors: LA Mag nominated him as one of the city's hottest bachelors and he became rabbi of his own synagogue. Low on both funds and congregants, the executive board of Ethan's new shul hired him with the hopes that his nontraditional background will attract more millennials to the faith. They've given him three months to turn things around or else they'll close the doors of his synagogue for good. Naomi and Ethan join forces to host a buzzy seminar series on Modern Intimacy, the perfect solution to their problems--until they discover a new one--their growing attraction to each other. They've built the syllabus for love's latest experiment, but neither of them expected they'd be the ones putting it to the test.

— Ok, I know that sounds bad. Again, I’m a creature of predictable habit and this was the sequel to The Roommate, which I absolutely LOVED last year. But where as the relationship in that one was kind of swoony, this one was...I don’t know, really. Everyone was a well-rounded character and the plot was good, but there was this semi-invisible something that made it difficult for me to get fully on board with the whole story. Honestly, it might be because he was a religious figure?? Also, they got together real quick. Like zero to sixty in twenty-six seconds flat.

I KNOW IT’S BAD, IT WAS BAD AND YET—I CANNOT STOP READING IT???

Too Wild to Tame by Tessa Bailey

Sometimes you just can't resist playing with fire . . . By day, Aaron Clarkson suits up, shakes hands, and acts the perfect gentleman. But at night, behind bedroom doors, the tie comes off and the real Aaron comes out to play. Mixing business with pleasure got him fired, so Aaron knows that if he wants to work for the country's most powerful senator, he'll have to keep his eye on the prize. That's easier said than done when he meets the senator's daughter, who's wild, gorgeous, and 100 percent trouble. Grace Pendleton is the black sheep of her conservative family. Yet while Aaron's presence reminds her of a past she'd rather forget, something in his eyes keeps drawing her in. Maybe it's the way his voice turns her molten. Or maybe it's because deep down inside, the ultra-smooth, polished Aaron Clarkson might be more than even Grace can handle . . .

— Last month I read the first book in this series and it was absolutely ridiculous. This one even more so. The Clarksons are still on the road trip (sans one sibling because she fell in love in a week in the first book) and Aaron was, like, not a root’able character? Very Edward Cullen I’M A BAD GUY, BELLA vibes and his relationship with Grace was so strange. Super rushed again, obvs. Meeting in the woods is weird enough. Professing love forty-eight hours later is decidedly unbelievable. Also there was a kidnapping involved? I totally put a hold on the next book in the series.

COME UP WITH DIFFERENT TRAUMA, I DARE YOU! OR NO TRAUMA. WHAT A CONCEPT!!

The Trouble With Hating You by Sajni Patel

Liya Thakkar is a successful biochemical engineer, takeout enthusiast, and happily single woman. The moment she realizes her parents' latest dinner party is a setup with the man they want her to marry, she's out the back door in a flash. Imagine her surprise when the same guy shows up at her office a week later -- the new lawyer hired to save her struggling company. What's not surprising: he's not too thrilled to see her either after that humiliating fiasco.

Jay Shah looks good on paper...and off. Especially if you like that whole gorgeous, charming lawyer-in-a-good-suit thing. He's also infuriating. As their witty office banter turns into late-night chats, Liya starts to think he might be the one man who truly accepts her. But falling for each other means exposing their painful pasts. Will Liya keep running, or will she finally give love a real chance?

— I had such high hopes for this one. Which is on me, I guess. Because I didn’t hate this one, but it was...not great. Maybe I’m just getting old and crotchety but I am BEGGING romance writers to come up with different trauma for their female protagonists. Not every woman has to have been assaulted to rationalize their current personality. Doesn’t have to happen. Like, ok, yes it does happen. Far more than it should. But that’s an entirely different story, and I am so tired of female characters getting absolutely destroyed by their past only to have that be their defining characteristic for so much of the book. Until a nice man they were initially mean to shows up and he’s UNDERSTANDING and he CARES and it’s just, bleh. It’s bleh. Tired and predictable and I’m over it.

IN WHICH I SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AT THE COVER

Much Ado About You by Samantha Young

At thirty-three-years old Evangeline Starling’s life in Chicago is missing that special something. And when she’s passed over for promotion at work, Evie realizes she needs to make a change. Some time away to regain perspective might be just the thing. In a burst of impulsivity, she plans a holiday in a quaint English village. The holiday package comes with a temporary position at Much Ado About Books, the bookstore located beneath her rental apartment. There’s no better dream vacation for the bookish Evie, a life-long Shakespeare lover. Not only is Evie swept up in running the delightful store as soon as she arrives, she’s drawn into the lives, loves and drama of the friendly villagers. Including Roane Robson, the charismatic and sexy farmer who tempts Evie every day with his friendly flirtations. Evie is determined to keep him at bay because a holiday romance can only end in heartbreak, right? But Evie can’t deny their connection and longs to trust in her handsome farmer that their whirlwind romance could turn in to the forever kind of love.

— Ok, so I had had this book on hold for so long that I genuinely forgot about it and forgot who it was written by. Samantha Young wrote that one book that I called the worst book I had ever read. Only I did not realize that when I started reading this one. So, you see how this sets us up for disaster. Because this book was a disaster. Everyone was goddamn annoying. And whiny. Shit, everyone whined. About everything. Also, the actual writing was atrocious. I am not usually one to be like “men can’t write,” but at one point I told both @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl that this book must have been secretly written by a man because no woman writing it would be so obsessed with pointing out where her cellulite was. Like, what??? Also the first sex scene? Oh my God, I laughed. Guffawed. The so-called love interest literally asked: “Are we going to have sex now?” And then they just did. It was so bad. Also there was a dog? Who went everywhere with the so-called love interest. And they just never explained that? I thought it was going to be part of some crushing and depressing backstory. Nah, he was just there.

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS WAS A BOOK! A BOOK MEANT FOR YOUNG ADULTS! WHAT IS YOUNG ADULT???

The Queen’s Secret by Melissa de la Cruz

Lilac's birthright makes her the Queen of Renovia, and a forced marriage made her the Queen of Montrice. But being a ruler does not mean making the rules. For Lilac, taking the throne means giving up the opportunity to be with love of her life, the kingdom's assassin, Caledon Holt. Worse, Cale is forced to leave the castle when a horrific set of magical attacks threatens Lilac's sovereignty. Now Cal eand Lilac will have to battle dark forces separately, even though being together is the only thing that's ever saved them.

— Remember last month when I was like: can’t wait for my hold to come through on this sequel so I know what happens? What an idiot. THIS BOOK WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE IT WAS A BOOK. As always in my rage-induced rants, no apologies for spoilers because seriously do NOT read this, but Lilac (legit, that was her name) married some other dude but just kept fucking Cale??? Like she had a secret door? So he could come in and they could fuck?? I just—oh my God. So, all these things kept happening. Magic and bad stuff and horses were killed. Lilac’s mother was the absolute WORST. Honestly the most worthless character who at one point was like “well, my story is over, guess it’s time to leave,” and then just left?? Forced Lilac into a marriage of alliance and no love and then everything evil was defeated in point two four seconds. It happened so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. So, then I’m like, ok, how are Lilac and Cale going to end up together? Because this is YA and that’s how it’s supposed to work. Only her being married and that marriage requiring an heir is something of a rather large hurdle. Don’t worry! Remember when Lilac and Cale were fucking? Everyone totally knew. Including the king Lilac is married to. Who is somehow like...ok with this? And tells Cale that Lilac is pregnant. ISN’T THAT WONDERFUL! Sure, because now they can lie and claim its the king’s heir. ONLY IT’S CALE’S KID! AND CALE IS COOL WITH THIS! His entire internal monologue during this is about how he realizes he might not ever be able to tell his kid he’s their father, but he’ll be around and that’s good. Wait, what??? But there’s more! Not only is Lilac having Cale’s kid, but the king she’s married to is in love with one of Cale’s spy associates. So the king and the spy are going to go hang out (and presumably have their own kids) at one castle and Lilac and Cale are going to go to another. Lilac and the king never get divorced or annulled or whatever. Everyone stays as is and married as is and—they all live happily ever after? This was presented as a good ending, I swear. What the shit, guys, seriously.

#book rec #book reccs #fantasy recommendations #rom com recs #laura reads books #i am still waiting for people to respond to my emails #and only vaguely stressed out about it #welllp these are books

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plumoh · 3 years

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[FEH] weight

Rating: G

Word count: 2715

Summary: After spending time together, and realizing they have more in common than he initially believed, Roy thinks he and Annette are cut from the same cloth.

Note: AO3 link. I believe Roy and Annette would be very good friends and will find in each other companionship...they’re good kids. No spoilers for either game.

“Is this not… your preferred weapon?”

“Oh, not at all! My uncle sent me to the School of Sorcery, where I study hard. I was put through some axe training because of my family’s relic, but I’d rather fight with my spells than fight with… this.”

Annette gestures at the giant axe that is lying on the ground while they’re resting in-between treasure hunting sessions, her face twisted in something akin to embarrassment. Roy glances at the wiggling teeth and shudders; yeah, he wouldn’t want to wield this weapon either.

“I’ve never seen a weapon quite like that,” he says.

“Crusher isn’t the worst, trust me. Sylvain wasn’t summoned with his family’s relic, but the Lance of Ruin is terrifying and seems straight out of a nightmare.”

Fódlan’s sacred weapons look like they were cursed instead of blessed by the Goddess—nobody in their right mind would look at them and think they weren’t going to have half their energy sucked dry. Roy has been in Askr long enough to know some heroes are being corrupted by their own powers, and he doesn’t wish it on anyone who still has the chance to keep them in check.

Today’s hunting spot is near a cliff, where they’re supposed to gather materials to upgrade their armors, as usual; with so many heroes arriving each day, Kiran is determined to welcome them as best as possible with fitted armors and spare weapons in case something goes wrong with the weapon they were summoned with. It usually takes a while before anyone has to change their weapon, but they can never be too safe.

Roy is picking at some grass blades as he listens to Prince Leo and Peony talk about specific species of flowers good for insomnia, and he can’t help thinking that the words leaving Prince Leo’s mouth are from experience, rather than simple knowledge. They’ve stumbled upon each other many a time in the library at night, when both of them should be in bed resting instead of doing whatever research or studying they were up to—not that anyone else knows, of course.

“Have you studied magic, Lord Roy?” Annette asks with a small smile, apparently eager to talk about a subject she’s well versed in.

Roy frowns. “You can call me Roy.”

Annette’s eyes narrow and she shakes her head. “That wouldn’t be proper, you’re a noble from another country!”

“But you let me call you Annette, would you rather I call you Lady Annette?”

“You’re a Marquess’s son!”

“From what I’ve gathered Sylvain is a Margrave’s son, our statuses are the same, and you call him Sylvain!”

“...I haven’t thought about that.”

Roy resists the urge to groan. Why is it so hard for people to simply call him by his name?

Annette’s face is pinched, like she cannot determine whether it truly makes sense for her to be informal with people she’s fighting alongside with. Roy thought that people his age would also prefer be addressed casually by their friends and allies.

“Alright, I guess you’re right… Roy,” Annette says tentatively.

Roy smiles. “See, isn’t this better? There’s no need to follow etiquette so closely between friends.”

“I might take some time to get used to it...”

“That’s fine, don’t worry.”

Annette nods, still a bit anxious about it but Roy has learned that it’s just her simple state of being—worrying over everything and anything, making sure that she is doing her job correctly and that she isn’t inadvertently inconveniencing anyone. Well, at least he understands her desire to work hard to be as helpful as possible.

“To answer your question, I did study magic, but I’m not very good at it,” he admits. “My teacher was Cecilia. Lilina and I were her students, but she was much more talented than I was.”

Recalling those memories always brings a small tinge of disappointment; he logically knows that some people are naturally compatible with magic, and others are not, but he can’t help feeling a bit envious of anyone wielding a weapon in one hand and shooting spells with the other.

“Do you want to pursue it? We could study together!”

“I don’t think we’d be reading the same level of material,” Roy chuckles. “That would be wonderful, but I think it’s better if I keep training with the sword, which is a weapon that I understand better.”

He also doesn’t know if studying magic now would yield more results than it did years ago.

“Focusing on what you’re best at...” Annette mumbles. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll gladly help you.”

Annette smiles at him, eager and kind, and Roy mirrors her expression.

***

It’s almost comical to see Annette and Lord Hector training together, swinging an axe at full force for a strength exercise. The Hector from Roy’s time is much bigger and cuts an even more imposing figure, but even in his youth he was a feared and powerful warrior. Lifting the weapon and tearing through dummies isn’t a struggle at all for Annette, despite her claim that she isn’t proficient enough in axes to be fully reliant in battle. Her support has been more invaluable than she thinks.

Lord Hector is laughing and clapping her on the shoulder, seemingly satisfied with the progress she’s making. Roy wonders if Lilina would train with an axe if it meant spending time with her father this way.

Annette dips her head and thanks Lord Hector, and they keep practicing more drills. Roy decides that he’s taken a long enough break and focuses back on the training dummy, shifting his sword and positioning it like a rapier for quick and nimble attacks. He’s wielded the Binding Blade for so long that he has almost forgotten how to fight with a lighter and thinner blade—it feels exhilarating to revert back to a stance his body is used to. He has used his time in Askr to polish his skills and to get accustomed to the heavy weight of the Binding Blade; he still has much to learn, especially from heroes more experienced than him who will provide useful insight about tactics and the battlefield, so he can’t relax just yet.

***

“I’m not as good at baking as Mercie, but I promise they’re tasty!”

Annette is shoving some berry tarts at him, eyes sparkling and face full of anticipation. She took it upon herself to find what kind of food the people of the army likes, and apparently it also includes desserts and sweets. Roy doesn’t particularly like sweets, but refusing such a treat baked with passion wouldn’t be courteous of him. He smiles at Annette and takes the tart, and chews slowly. Oh, that might be a good idea, actually.

“I like it,” he says sincerely. “It’s not too sweet.”

“I’m glad to hear that! I still have plenty of recipes to try for all kinds of occasions, I hope that the others will enjoy them too.” She pauses, then pinches her chin between her fingers. “Muffins are a good way to find what stuffing people like...”

Roy shakes his head, a bit amused.

“Do you always go to such lengths for other people?”

Annette’s face relaxes and looks just as warm as her voice sounds.

“I’m told I do too much, sometimes, but I can’t help it. I have to give my all in everything I do, and this includes making sure that my friends get moments of joy, too. And pastries always cheer people up! Well, most people.”

This, Roy understands; to be pushed by the drive of accomplishment, to please and to ensure everyone is happy and comfortable. In times of war, even the smallest attention can bring a smile on someone’s face, because there is still kindness in people’s hearts, despite everything. This is what Roy wants to believe, and Annette seems to share this point of view.

“You are a good person, Annette.”

Annette laughs, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. “I’m just doing what I can. I’m so clumsy that I’m relieved I haven’t caused any major incident yet.”

“Surely it isn’t as disastrous as you think it is?”

She makes a face. “I’m probably cursed to trip over a barrel even when I checked the halls were empty.”

He doesn’t mean to offend her in any way, but Roy chuckles at the image this conjures up. Annette crosses her arms over chest and frowns at him. She looks stern and ready to chew him out for laughing at her accidents, so Roy quickly composes himself.

“I’m sorry, mocking you wasn’t my intention,” he assures her. “Please be more careful, we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“We should get rid of barrels,” Annette mutters.

“How would we contain wine and other liquids then?”

The question seems to actually spark an interest in Annette as she keeps frowning, but her face takes on a contemplative air. Roy rubs the back of his neck.

“Um, do you have more of those berry tarts? I think Wolt will enjoy them.”

“Oh! Of course, come with me.”

Annette takes his arm and drags him to the kitchens, and Roy can’t help feeling completely at ease, finding Annette’s enthusiasm and energy refreshing.

***

Sitting at a table in the quiet gardens, Roy is flipping through his battle tactics notebook when he’s jerked to the side and almost falls out of his chair.

“Roy, I need your help to fight against sword wielders!” Annette exclaims earnestly. “Lord Hector is giving me really good tips but I’m still struggling when a sword is pointed my way. With my magic I’d fight more easily and have faster reaction, but I’m still not used to Crusher and—”

“Woah, Annette, calm down. I accept?”

Annette looks like she hasn’t slept for days and is running on adrenaline or caffeine, but given her sweet tooth Roy doubts she even likes coffee. She sighs in relief.

“Thank you! The Professor is busy and the heroes from my world are already on a mission, so...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help.”

And this is how they end up in the training grounds, though they’re using their real weapons instead of training ones. Roy supposes it makes sense; Crusher is hefty, dragging its wielder forward or backward, and seems to be channeled with magic, if the light orange glow is anything to judge by. It’s not a weapon you get accustomed to easily. Annette insisted he use the Binding Blade and to fight like they’re in a real battle—Roy trusts her skills and her strength, but it’s still a sparring session. He doesn’t want her to get hurt because of his carelessness.

Roy has never gone up against Annette before, but he can already tell that she’s a powerful and unpredictable opponent. The swing of her axe isn’t as fast as she probably would like, but she manages to be accurate and hit hard. The Binding Blade comes up to block the attack and pushes back, forcing Annette to step back. Roy tilts his blade and thrusts it towards her side, and before the flat of it touches her, she fully dodges to get out of harm’s way. She immediately springs back into action to smash Crusher over his shoulder, but even with her momentum all she manages to do is graze him.

They keep exchanging blows, parrying and dodging. If it were an actual battle, they most likely wouldn’t have been able to stand for so long without inflicting at least one serious injury. It seems that Annette is trying to prove something, or to assess her opponent. Roy stays silent though, continuing to swing his sword until one of them collapses or draws more blood than a spar would allow. Axe wielders heavily rely on brute force, but Annette is swifter and more nimble than most—her fighting style is almost similar to Echidna’s.

They eventually tire themselves out, and when Roy has the Binding Blade poised to strike Annette across the chest as she can’t lift Crusher in time, they stop.

“Thanks for training with me,” she says, a bit breathless.

Roy wipes beads of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, and because nobody is around to see them in this state, he decides to sit right then and there on the ground, gently laying down the Binding Blade and catching his breath.

“Did you manage to figure something out?”

Annette joins him on the ground, nodding.

“I’ve sparred against other people too, and I know that swordmasters tend to thrust and to go for the small openings, so I tried to use what I know against someone I’ve never trained with.”

“It makes sense.”

“That also brings me to the realization that I really do need to get used to Crusher and its power.” Annette rubs the bridge of her nose. “I just don’t understand why I was entrusted with my family’s relic so early. I’m clearly not prepared yet.”

Roy glances at the Binding Blade. Anyone could have met the criteria to wield such a mighty weapon; and yet, it was him who took on the burden to use it. People say that each weapon is unique and alive, and those inhabited by the spirits of warriors and their legacy even more so—those who take up Armads are cursed to die on the battlefield, and this isn’t a hearsay he wants to find out. Annette is looking for answers he wishes he had.

“I think that sometimes we are bestowed gifts that we only see as burdens, because others are putting their faith in us.”

He looks down at his lap where he clenches his fists. He hasn’t thought about this in a long time.

“They trust us to do the right thing, or at the very least that we will when we are able to. It’s like… they expect that our position will grant us the wisdom to do right.”

There are events out of his control, and all he can do is stand on his two feet to show that he won’t disappoint anyone who entrusted their life to him.

Two hands come covering his own, and he looks up to see Annette smiling sadly at him, though there is something like understanding flashing in her eyes.

“We are probably in similar situations, right?” she laughs weakly, as she nods towards the Binding Blade. “Those big weapons in our hands feel heavier than they should. Maybe something bad is going to happen in the future and this is why I was summoned here with Crusher, so that I can get used to it. Maybe it’s like you said, it’s a gift and I refuse to see its value.”

Her hands are warm and reassuring as she squeezes, still keeping her smile on her face even if her voice hasn’t shed its layer of self-doubt. Roy doesn’t think they will ever grow out of doubting their own abilities and worth, unless they learn to live with the expectations piling up on their shoulders. However, it doesn’t mean they can’t start now or take small steps to get there. He returns Annette’s smile and squeezes back.

“Refusing to see the value of the gift doesn’t mean you’re rejecting it. You’re working hard to master Crusher, that counts for something.”

“I suppose. It’s still frustrating to keep going without having answers.” She sighs and shakes her head. “But knowing that I’m not alone in this struggle helps a bit. I have to overcome my own fears.”

“It’s a long journey, but I believe in you. You’re resilient and resourceful.”

The laugh that escapes Annette’s throat is genuine. It’s not full of confidence, and this is not the solution she was seeking, but it’s close to one.

“You have a way with words, Roy! We’ll do our best together.”

Roy’s lips curl into a grin. “Our efforts will pay off, I’m sure of it.”

Annette pats his hands one last time before they get up. She hoists Crusher over her shoulder while Roy sheathes the Binding Blade; the sword is still a persistent weight against his side, one he’s become familiar with, but slowly, steadily, it will become a weight holding the proof of his achievement.

#fe6 #fe3h #feh #annette fantine dominic #roy #fe sword of seals #fe heroes #i love these kids!! they're doing their best!!#two teenagers trying to do well and bearing on their shoulders heavy expectations.....

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fizzingwizard · 3 years

Text

I fell asleep so here’s day 5 a bit late to party... Day 6 will surely be late too xP Again, thanks for the comments last time, I enjoyed them, even the ones hidden in tags haha.

Koushirou and Taichi have a talk post-Bokura no Mirai. Watch out, cuz both boys have mouths on them. Taishiro if you squint.

---

Tri week day 5 - Survival - They Make Miracles

Taichi texted him wanting to hang out over after school, and as Koushirou had spent the day at the office, that meant Taichi came there. He spread out on the couch, flipping through the pages of some comic book. Koushirou sat at his desk. They had a bottle of cold oolong each and a bowl of shrimp crackers. Out the window, the din of rush hour traffic filtered in from the Tokyo streets below.

Some might look at them and think they were ignoring each other, each occupied in separate activities, only looking up to acknowledge there was someone else in the room when their hands bumped reaching into the cracker bowl. But their friendship worked like this. In fact, if the long stretches of silence bothered Taichi at all, he would have ditched Koushirou way back in elementary school.

That was something about Taichi not everyone understood: he could get as wrapped up in his own head as Koushirou did. Sometimes it seemed like Taichi sought him out because he wouldn't have to feel pressured to make small talk. He wanted to think, and he wanted someone else to be there while he was thinking, but not Sora, who would want give him advice, and not Yamato, who would stay quiet but coiled with tension until Taichi finally said something to bring them back to known waters. Koushirou, at least, understood the need for privacy for his thoughts, even if he didn't quite get why Taichi still wanted another body there anyway.

So it came as a surprise when Taichi shattered the silence, a page of the comic book suspended in the air as he paused mid-turn. "I'm never going to know if it was a mistake or not, am I," he said.

Koushirou looked up. Taichi's gaze was fixed on a random spot on the coffee table. But then he straightened, throwing his arms over the back of the couch in a deceptively casual move. His face, though, he kept turned away.

On days like this, Koushirou tended to be so involved in his work that, even if Taichi did have something to say, all he'd get in reply was a vague "Hmm." Later he might not even remember that they'd talked. It was a habit that drove Mimi up the wall, but once again, Taichi never seemed to mind that much. Of course, most of the time the conversation was along the lines of "Look at the cool play this soccer star made," or "Can you believe Satou-sensei expects us to finish the group project by tomorrow?" and "Hmm" was, more or less, all the response needed. Plus Koushirou was pretty sure Taichi sometimes took advantage of it to insist he had agreed to things he couldn't recall ever discussing.

Too bad he couldn't pretend this was about a mistake on some test.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard while he weighed his options. "... The world isn't divided into good and bad, Taichi-san," he said at last, though once the words were out, they felt pale and trite horribly inadequate. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice. Really the only choice."

He didn't add the rest: that he viewed killing Meicoomon as akin to chopping off a gangrenous limb. A terrible choice to make, but without it, the necrotic tissue would continue to spread and infect until there was nothing left. The metaphor worked, but he felt pretty sure the depersonalization wouldn't sit well with Taichi.

Taichi made a noncommittal noise. Something knotted in Koushirou's stomach. Probably, more than any of the others, Koushirou was the least upset with how things had ended with Meicoomon. In his wildest dreams he'd never imagined separating a Chosen from their partner, let alone - let alone killing one. When he'd realized Meiko might know the password to unlock the Digimons' sealed memories, hope had struck him like a bolt of lightning: all those dark predictions he couldn't see his way out of were about to be swept away by a miracle. Just like when they were kids.

That was the fatal error. There hadn't been any miracles when they were kids.

It had only felt that way because they didn't know how else to explain the unexplainable.

He and Taichi had talked many times over the years, about the fact that they were killers. The others didn't get a lot out of putting it into words like that, but it was true. They'd been killing since they were ten years old, killing to protect, killing to survive. It was just that, this time, they'd killed someone that loved.

"I just," Taichi swallowed thickly. "At the time, we... there wasn't any more time, but... now I just wonder... no one else wanted to do it, they all followed my lead and maybe... Sorry, I'm not making any sense..."

"We followed your lead like we always do, Taichi-san, because you lead us well." In a sudden fit of nerves, Koushirou pushed off the polished surface of his desk and stood. Once standing, though, he felt infinitely more awkward and wished he hadn't.

He was trying to think of an unobtrusive way to disappear behind his workspace again when Taichi at long last gave up staring at the wall. He looked over at Koushirou with liquid brown eyes. It was only the briefest of glances before he hunched over on the edge of the couch, fingers digging into his scalp.

His next words were muffled and wet-sounding.

"Nishijima-sensei died. I was - I was so messed up. I shouldn't have made that decision. I shouldn't have made any decisions. I was - what's the word they use -"

"Compromised?" Koushirou offered.

"Yeah, that."

Fuck.

Why did Taichi have to come to him for comfort? Yamato or Sora would be so much better at this.

If they were better, he would have gone to them, Tentomon's matter-of-fact voice in his head pointed out. Tentomon was in the digital world at present, but Koushirou didn't need him there to know what he'd think about this.

Then another voice, one that didn't sound like Tentomon at all, added: Maybe comfort isn't all he wants.

"You witnessed something... unspeakable," Koushirou said gently. His feet seemed to move as if on automatic, making a winding path around the desk to stand at the coffee table's edge, an arm's length away from where Taichi had begun to collapse in on himself. "It had to affect your judgment."

A beat. Taichi gave a tremulous nod.

"It doesn't follow that your judgment must have been mistaken, Taichi-san."

The hands smoothed down his face. "But I'm never going to know," he said in a dull voice.

Folding his arms, Koushirou sat down on the opposite seat. "Let's not deal in vagaries. Here's what I know," he said, careful to keep his tone level, bussinesslike. "I know the world was going to change, at that moment, one way or another. I know a lot was at stake." Lives, the entire world - Mochizuki and Meicoomon. Taichi was certainly thinking it on his own. Koushirou forced himself to hold his gaze as he went on. "I know Meicoomon's data had been corrupted beyond recognition. I know Yggdrasil and Homeostasis both intended to move regardless of how we felt about it. I don't know how much was ever really salvageable. But I know you salvaged control. We're not their unwitting pawns, and that's thanks to you."

A slow smile crept over Taichi's face, brittle at the edges. "Isn't that thanks to you? Every time we need a miracle, Koushirou, you -"

"There are no miracles," Koushirou interrupted, with a stubborn set of his jaw, "that don't sacrifice on the altar of mysticism the ones who broke their backs to make them happen."

Stunned silence. Taichi gave a startled laugh. "Wow... I'm not sure I understood all the words there."

"Maybe there was a way to save Meicoomon." The words spilled out like a runaway train, and he had no idea if he was helping or hurting, but he couldn't stop now. "And maybe there was a way to save the digital world that didn't involve abducting eight children from their homes and making them fight for their lives, resetting their innocence, teaching them how the world assigns value, whether something is cheap or precious, based on circumstance, on convenience. We all handled it the best way we knew how, and sometimes - sometimes that way wasn't very good. The whole time, there was one thing that got us through it, day after day. Taichi-san, do you know what it is?"

Taichi looked as if he were hanging onto what Koushirou was saying like it were a lifeline. He nodded. "It was hope."

"No, Taichi-san," Koushirou said viciously. "It was you."

Taichi's throat worked, and his long, dark lashes stuttered. He seemed to try to answer, but lost the words he'd been looking for. "Fuck," he choked out after a while, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling.

Koushirou gave him time to get a hold of himself. He'd seen Taichi cry before. Always out of guilt. Well, not this time - not if he could help it.

The ping of an incoming message lit up his computer, followed by an insistent buzz from his phone a moment later. He didn't get up.

"I-I wish-" Koushirou listened in silence as Taichi tripped and stumbled over his unruly emotions. He suspected it had been a while since Taichi had done any sort of maintenance on them. Not since Meicoomon, probably.

"I wish we could have saved Meicoomon, Koushirou." He'd never sounded so much like a child, not even when he was one.

"We all do."

"But I don't know if it's because I regret what I did, or because I don't like the way Yamato and Sora treat me now, like I'm about to break down any second, or because Hikari will never look up to me the same way again-"

"None of the above. It's because you're a good person, Taichi-san."

The look on Taichi's face was somewhere between bleak and utterly desperate. "How can you be so sure about that?"

"I know many things," Koushirou said. "I think you'll agree with me there. I could be wrong about any of them, but not that one thing." He didn't smile, he didn't let his gaze waver. "Never that."

I don't wany any leader that isn't you.

"Fuck you," said Taichi, voice breaking, but there was unexpected laughter at the end of it. "Geez, Koushirou. What am I supposed to with that?" He shook his head, looking exhausted. "I couldn't talk about it before. I couldn't - make things all about me, when Mochizuki's the one who-" He stopped, fists curling and uncurling on his knees. "Yamato will beat me up if that's what I want from him. Sora will tell me everything's fine even if it's not what she really thinks. Hikari won't talk about it all. I figured you at least didn't hate me for what happened. Out of all of us, you would have thought everything through for yourself. At least your opinion would be your own."

"It is," Koushirou promised.

Taichi nodded. The color had begun to return to his face. Slowly, as if carding through his thoughts, he said: "I'll never know if it was a mistake. But it's done."

"It's done."

"That's not much of a balm for the soul," Taichi sighed.

Koushirou looked down. "I guess not," he said. "It's real, though."

Another silence followed. Like the calm after a storm, Koushirou thought. He did feel as though they'd just weathered some catastrophe, or perhaps escaped it by a hair.

"She says she doesn't hate me," Taichi said after a few minutes passed in therapeutic quiet. "Mochizuki."

"Ah."

"But she's... y'know. Kind. She's the type to blame herself for things that aren't her fault."

Koushirou shrugged. "Seems like you two are a matched set, then."

Taichi gave him a sharp look, but didn't say anything. He took a deep breath, whole body swelling like a cresting wave. Then he reached for a shrimp cracker.

"Damn... heavy talk makes me hungry."

Koushirou couldn't help it. He laughed. And reached for his bottle of oolong. He was parched.

"Koushirou..." Ah, he knew what was coming now. "Thanks. When I came over, I didn't mean for..."

"I don't want thanks. Or apologies." I just want you. But, no, that... he wasn't at a point where he could say that just yet. "I just want you at your best. I still think we can change the world, Taichi-san."

A hesitant grin. "That's a promise," Taichi said, only it sounded more like "fash a fwomish" with his mouth full of cracker.

Demons couldn't be defeated in a single afternoon, over oolong tea and shrimp crackers, despite best intentions. Koushirou knew that. He'd dealt with his fair share of demons and they were intractable little brutes. But Taichi could out-stubborn anything. He wouldn't have been able to lead them this far if that weren't true.

As for Mochizuki Meiko - even if Taichi couldn't quite admit it yet, Koushirou thought he understood why she was being "kind." Because though what they'd taken had been enormous, they'd done their utmost to give back what they could. It might be small, but seeds always are. Mochizuki had a future stretched out before her too, free from the designs of any government organization or mysterious otherworldly power. Teeming with possibilities, neither good nor bad. Simply there.

Taichi was going to change the world. Koushirou meant to do the same. People would say they made miracles, but the two of them would call it something else.

They would call it living.

---

as usual i am an overdramatic bitch

side note: I was gonna have Koushirou call out Taichi for saying Yamato would beat him up, but just didn’t find a spot for it. So for clarity’s sake, this is Taichi being hard on himself, not indicative of what Yamato would actually do. We all saw him cry after losing his bestie *wibble*

I don’t know how they can both reach the shrimp cracker bowl if Koushirou’s at the desk and Taichi’s on the couch, by the way. I guess it’s hovering in the air between them, or they both have Elastigirl arms :P

#triweek2020 #digimon adventure tri #koushirou izumi #taichi yagami #digimon #fizz writes

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crushzone · 3 years

Note

Hi Nin! I know this might be weird of me to ask because you are an artist yourself, but I am rather new here and was wondering if you have any other artists you'd recommend? If not that is ok!

Hi there, not weird at all! I LOVE supporting fellow artists, I find their wonderful talent and dedication incredibly inspiring, seeing their beautiful works on my feed constantly reminds me to take a step back from my exhaustion and to simply remember why I love to draw to begin with: because it’s fun.

I’m usually really picky about artists I follow and their style, but when I find the ones that I enjoy, I go ALL OUT with my support. So without further ado, the following artists listed are those I am not only in love with, but those who I genuinely look up to.

So make sure you stop by their page to show them some love and appreciation for their hard work (because hard work extends beyond the individual pieces they’ve made, it’s also for the countless hours they’ve spent on practicing and perfecting their craft, constantly challenging themselves to learn new techniques). 💛

👇🏼👇🏼 Nin’s Artist Recommendation👇🏼👇🏼

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

@aku-jumbi - HQ!!, Various, You all had seen me share a BUNCH of their works on my blog, but it’s just because their art is so SOOOOOOOOO good. Your style leans toward photorealism, while still maintaining its painting-like quality, so if you had ever wondered how your favorite characters may look like irl, they’ve got you!!! Watching your speed painting is so fascinating, idk how you do it, but you’re always killing it every time (Like our process is so different, so it was really interesting to see how you approach your works you know?). This piece of Kei Tsukishima and Oikawa Tooru are two of my favorite works you’ve done!

@achieve-the-sun - HQ!!, Various, Let me start off by saying that I love Morghy’s art so much, that they are the first and only person I had ever commissioned from so far. They drew Keishin and I sooo adorably, it brings me so much joy to look at it on the daily. Your style reminds me of freshly baked cookies, or the warmth of bakeries, I can’t help but feel a sense of coziness whenever I look at your adorable artworks. This piece you did of Kageyama and Hinata was what had drawn me to you. Everything from your color choices, fluid gestures, and expressions are such a delight to look at!

@chaotickatts - HQ!! I am so in love with Katts, you all. I had never seen anyone draw like this, her style is really unique. I can go on forever about why I love your art, but one of the biggest things that drew me to your style is the way you draw bodies. I like the variation and realistic details you include, for instance, I absolutely adore the way you gave Sakusa more moles on his body, and the way you drew dad bod Osamu. Idk, I think there’s so many different types of body shapes and details out there, and it brings me joy to see you being so inclusive of them in your art.

@namusw - Hunter x Hunter. Was drawn to their Hunter x Hunter works and I don’t even watch/read that manga. Honestly, just check them out, I love everything about their works, they are also a killer at both traditional and digital styles. This piece of Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo was the one that made me fall in love.

@cranbearly - HQ!! I really adore the way they draw expressions and their coloring style (inspired me to attempt some flat coloring). This piece of Oikawa and Iwa made me follow them instantly. Expressions are so difficult to nail, and you’ve done such an amazing job conveying every emotion the characters are feeling, I’ve learned so much just from looking at your works, so thank you for blessing us with your craft.

@a-zebra-was-here - HQ!! Their art has a very carefree type of vibe and their coloring style brings me so much joy. I’ve really enjoyed your drawings of the Miyas’, this piece of the twin was what got me, and this other piece, the first image of young Miyas’ was so SO well done, I am in love with the way you colored that. 😻

@erionmakuo - Various, dude....I want to cry, I don’t even know what to say, EVERY SINGLE PIECE of your artworks just BLOWS ME AWAY. The way you color your art is just so ethereal, the color schemes you had chosen, the way you mix the color of your lighting, textures, and everything in general, I can go on about this all day but just hop on to their blog and you will know exactly what I mean. I don’t have a particular piece that drew me in because I was blessed by all your works at once.

@uranarino - HQ!!, Your artworks bring me so much joy. If I have to describe your style like an experience in life, I would say it reminds me of how it’s like to fall in love with someone for the first time, if that makes sense. That sudden overwhelming feeling you get when you’re doing the most mundane things with someone you care about, only for time to stop as you realize how in love you are with them? Yea, your art captures that really well. These two pieces of Kuroo returning home with his groceries and of him taking a day nap with his cats was what had drawn me to you.

@queenoftheantz - HQ!!, Various, Their style is really unique, it kind of reminds me of an adventurous graphic novel or something you would see on Cartoon Network (idk, I thought of Chowder, but please, I really mean it as a compliment, I just really love the fun cartoon style you have.) They also do some animations! I really love this piece of Kyotani you did, the landscape and colors look SOO GOOD!!

@noodlemanjpg - HQ!!, Various, love LOVE your style and the way you draw expressions. I also really love how you color, your works “appear” effortless, but I know a lot of knowledge and precision is put into crafting it. This piece of Kuroo x Yaku being all cozy at the couch was what had drawn me to your blog, it makes me smile every time I look at it. Kuroo’s smitten expression is just...ahsdl;adjs I can’t help but smile with him.

@diabolism666 - HQ!!, c’mon, you can’t be in the HQ!! fandom without at least seeing one of their artworks. In fact, I had seen your art even before I’ve gotten into this show, and it was love at first sight, lemme tell ya. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. you had drawn are so good, it doesn’t even matter if it’s a more simplistic drawing or elaborate one, I am just always staring at it in awe. Thank you for being so incredibly active about it too, idk how, but you’ve produced so many amazing drawings and we’re just incredibly grateful for it. You draw some of best Tendou, Reon and Toshi out there. Your works have so much range, I really feel like you can draw ANYTHING hahaha.

@viria - Various, Viria *sobs* your works are so good. The way you draw faces and affection just gives me butterflies. I don’t even watch Fullmetal Alchemist, but this piece you did of Edward and Winry made me fall so deeply in love with your works. Your style has a certain softness to it, even when it is of an angry character, and I love it.

@nipuni - Various, another artist that I am incredibly nervous to tag because your works are just out of the world. You also seem so so nice and is always incredibly helpful whenever anyone sends you an ask. Just...I have the biggest crush on you and your works. EVERYTHING you had drawn is so stunning, and I mean it. The details, pose, composition, and coloring, it is just so perfect, I could pull up particular artworks, but I was really blessed by it all at once. If you are into fantasy-esque realistic looking portraits, check her out, she exudes so much knowledge and talent.

@hinamihere - HQ!!, Your artworks are soo stinkin adorable. Your color choices, expressions and the way you draw hair is just so cute, your art always bring the biggest smile to my face. This piece you did of Akaashi and Bokuto was what drew me to you, when I saw it, I “awhhh”ed so loudly, my hubby had to ask me what’s up, and when I showed it to him, he had the same reaction, even if he’d never seen Haikyuu!!

@oxxuri - BNHA, so SO good, the way you color, light, and draw is so beautiful. Every single detail, down to every lashes and strands of hair is so beautiful. You draw some of the most attractive faces I had ever seen, these drawings of Aizawa and Midoriya brings me so SOOOO much joy, and I don’t even know anything about BNHA.

@amezure - HQ!!, their comic strips always make my day, I was giving their blog a peep so I can pull up specific examples and my statement is instantly confirmed when I stumbled across their newest comic art of Kuroo and Bokuto and started laughing HAHA. 😂 Your self study sheets are incredibly informative and I find myself referencing them often, it’s so nice to see my favorite artists continue to polish their craft through endless amounts of studying, practice, and analysis. It serves as a constant reminder for myself to do the same. I love the way you draw people (check out this piece of Bokuto x Akaashi), but I ESPECIALLY love the way you draw animals. (Specifically anything that has to do with lil owl Bo and Akaashi 🥺)

@obobro - Avatar the Last Airbender, HQ!!, I am absolutely in love with the way you color and draw portraits. Your drawing and detailing has so much range; you have a series of hand drawings, and that alone already displays so SO much range. I was really drawn in by this drawing of Tsukki, Zuka + Azula, and of Sokka + Katara, you can really tell they were related and I love it so much. Your art has so much life to it, it’s truly fascinating.

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

I have a couple more artists to recommend, so if you’d like a part 2 to this, please lmk.

But yes, I genuinely stand by my recommendations, these guys are so SO good at what they do and I am currently sweating because the thought of tagging all my artist crushes in one post is actually kinda scary lol.

Hope this helps! ✌️

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nightcoremoon · 3 years

Text

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

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promptis-imagines · 4 years

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How about Promptis go on their first ever date at an arcade or a fair and they're both nervous at first. They relax after a nice chat and some junk food and Noct notices a giant chocobo plush at a stall/prize counter and tries to win it for Prompto

nananasonatra: Noctis taking Prom on a summer carnival date. They both act like teenagers in love and at the end of the night they ride the Ferris wheel .Noctis bribes the operator to make them stop ontop .Sorry my heads fried in this heat lol

yes this is exactly what I need. You two have galaxy brains. So I will combine them: first date to the fair complete with shitty carnival games and a ferris wheel extravaganza

They are both very obnoxiously awkward. Prompto can’t stop talking even when he desperately wants to shut up. Noctis is having a hard time speaking at all. They went to the fair because hey, it’s in town! Surely that’s gotta be cheesy and fun. Thing is, both of them are too shy to admit that they love cheesy things (even tho they literally...are going on a date there. They’re doing their best). It’s the way there and the getting tickets where they’re still acting the nervous couple bit, but once they feel the adrenaline of a rollercoaster and stock up on junk food (a horrible choice before going on more rides), they start to loosen up and laugh off the nerves.

Also I can just...picture that scene. So vividly.

The sky was growing darker by the minute, which was only accentuated by the carnival lights dotting the view. Most of the rickety rides had been conquered, though not without a fair share of screaming on the couple’s part, so the tired boys decided to take a break for snacks before taking on the rest of the event.

Okay, maybe calling them “snacks” was a bit of an understatement. Two orders of fried oreos, an entire funnel cake, some wildly-oversized corndogs, and a large lemonade. They might have forgotten to grab dinner before the fair in their nervous endeavors, and nothing was healthy at the fair.

Sitting on that bench, laughing and munching on their food, any hint of awkwardness or fear was left behind in some gross seat of a rollercoaster car. Well and truly, this was a real date.

There was only a bit left of the funnel cake in the end. Prompto heaved a sigh, shoving the plate onto Noctis’ lap while his head flopped onto his shoulder. “You eat it,” he murmured.

Noctis pouted. “No, you.” The plate was passed back.

“Noooo, I’m so done, dude,” Prompto whined. “Just take one for the team.”

That earned a snort from Noctis. “What team? And why do we have to finish it?” he questioned.

Prompto paused, then sat up straight again. “I dunno. Feels wrong to just throw it away?” he reasoned. Especially considering that Noctis was the one who paid for all of it. He would feel bad, prince or not.

Noctis lightly bumped him with his shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s the last thing we have, and I’d rather toss it than have either one of us get sick before our date is over.”

He couldn’t lie, Prompto’s stomach still erupted with butterflies at legitimately hearing Noctis say they were on a date. He’d been dreaming of this for so long that he’d chalked up his hopes to wishful thinking. But no, they were here, and they were having a good time. It was enough to make him grin. “Fine, fine. Throw it away, and we can walk around for a while before hitting something that could make us lose all that food we just ate,” he conceded.

“Right.”

The two of them hauled their trash to the nearest trash can, and Prompto had to laugh at just how much powdered sugar had attached itself to Noctis’ all-black clothing. “Y’know, I applaud your choices to start wearing white,” he teased, making Noctis look down at his shirt.

“Oh, come on,” Noctis grumbled.

Prompto ran his hands along the worst parts. “No worries, I got you.” It only took a few seconds more for him to note how low the powder had gotten. “Um...”

Noctis huffed a laugh, getting the rest off. “You’ve got some on you, too.”

“I do?” Prompto asked with a confused expression. “Could’ve sworn I dusted myself off, already. Where’s it at?” he rambled, hoping he didn’t look like a mess.

“Hm, right here.” Suddenly, Noctis’ hand was on his cheek, his warm lips pressed gently to Prompto’s in a kiss that lasted all of three seconds. Nonetheless, his cheeks were absolutely burning afterwards.

When they parted, it appeared that he wasn’t the only one. Noctis’ cheeks were dusted a soft shade of pink, though it was hard to see under the harsh lighting around them.

It took a moment for either of them to say anything. “Did...you get it off?”

Noctis’ lips turned up in a faint smile. “Think so.”

Now it was Prompto’s turn to smile. “Cool. Thanks. What would I do without you?” he joked.

“Dunno. Have powdered sugar all over your face?” Noctis returned teasingly.

“All over? You saying I’ve got more on me?”

Noctis hummed in thought, once again brushing his fingers along Prompto’s cheek. “Nope, got it all,” he confirmed.

An eye-roll from Prompto. “Dork. Let’s move away from the trash can, yeah?”

The two headed back into the bustle of the fair, hand in hand without Prompto even realizing they'd reached for each other. It made him giddy all over again.

Before long, they stopped. A long row of carnie games sprawled out before them, vendors shouting for patrons to step up and take their chances. Stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes were presented along every surface, and it was a safe bet to assume they’d been waiting to be claimed for far longer than necessary.

Prompto looked over to his date. “Got something in your sights?” he questioned.

That got Noctis tugging him towards a nearby stall. “Does a giant chocobo sound good? I’ll try to win it for you,” he stated, all the determination in the world lighting up his eyes. It was rare to see Noctis this enthusiastic about something. Gods, it was cute.

Still, Prompto couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. The thing Noctis had pointed out was giant, which also meant that it was going to be near impossible to get. “I mean, it sounds great, Noct,” he started, leaning against Noctis’ shoulder. “But I’m not gonna get my hopes up.”

Noctis knocked his head against Prompto’s. “What, don’t believe in me?” he returned in mock-offense.

“Oh, c’mon, you know these things are rigged,” Prompto reasoned. “Plus, this is a shooting game. One, that’s even more rigged. Two, we should both know by now that I'm the better marksman out of the two of us."

His boasting earned him a scoff from Noctis. "While I might cave and admit that, it doesn't mean that I'm bad at it. Have a little faith," he requested, giving Prompto's hand a light squeeze. Without waiting for a response, he was off towards the unattainable holy grail of stuffed animals. Oh, to be the carnie that got to proctor this little event in history.

Watching with an air of amusement, Prompto leaned on his elbows over the counter. "Heya! What's the requirements for getting that Behemoth up there?" he asked, gesturing to the comically large bird in question.

The carnie's polished grin focused on him. "Well, buddy, it's fairly simple!" he chirped. "All you've gotta do is shoot at those little targets that are moving across the planks." He made a grand gesture towards the back wall, which sported plenty of painted wooden ducks with red and white targets on their sides meandering in a single file. "Each duckie has a different number on the back. Shoot as many as you can before the time runs out, and your score will be tallied afterwards. Get over fifty points, and the chocobo is all yours. But watch out! Some of the ducks are hiding negative numbers that will reduce your score. So, care to test your skills?"

His speech had sounded so trained and NPC-like, Prompto had to laugh. "No, not me. But this guy wants to give it a go." He tugged on Noctis' sleeve, a grin of pride bright on his face. Noctis, on the other hand, had lost some of that brazen confidence in his expression.

It was always funny to watch people's eyes go wide. "O-Oh, Prince Noctis! Er, that is you, isn't it?"

"Nah, but I get that a lot," Noctis replied nonchalantly, rolling his shoulders in preparation. "Just a guy trying to win a chocobo for his boyfriend. Can I start?"

The man, seemingly recovered, nodded with his previous vigor. "Of course! Here is your weapon, good sir." After ducking down to grab one of the dingy guns from under the counter, he handed it over. "The timer starts when you first shoot."

Prompto cast a smirk at his boyfriend. "Let's see what you got, sharpshooter," he teased.

Noctis took aim. "Oh, hush. I'm doing this for you."

After a quick "Good luck!" from the man behind the counter, Noctis started the timer with a pop from the toy gun. One duck down, who knew how many more to go.

"Wohoo, got one!" Prompto exclaimed, beaming at a smug-looking Noctis. "Think you can keep it up?"

Still keeping his eyes on the targets, Noctis gave a little nod. "You bet I will. I've got someone to impress," he replied before knocking another off of the shelf.

Prompto snorted, slumping more over the counter. "You say that like you're on a date," he continued.

Another duck toppled. "And what if I am?"

That earned a dramatized gasp from Prompto. "Are you, now? Didn't know you had it in you to snatch a date. Always thought you were too shy." The mocking edge to his words were light, and he couldn't hide the slight giggling that followed. The next few shots hit the wall. He poked Noctis in the shoulder before wrapping an arm around his middle. "Trying to win him something?"

Noctis gave him a knowing glance. "I would be, if he wasn't doing stuff to distract me. Don't be disappointed when I can't get the prize for you," he warned, getting another target down.

Prompto leaned in to press a kiss to Noctis' cheek. "A good marksman should be able to work well under pressure." Still, deciding that he'd messed with him enough, Prompto let go and returned to being an encouraging spectator.

As the timer drew nearer to zero and the little duckies came crashing down, Prompto did have to admit that he was impressed. Especially considering the hindrance that was a rickety carnival gun, the sizeable amount of targets Noctis had managed to hit was most likely more than the average. Though he hadn't expected much of a reward from this mess, part of him was thinking he might be going home with a giant stuffed chocobo.

When the timer sounded, the carnie bounced back to life. "Aaalrighty, let's see how you did!" he said in his merry speech. He collected the last few fallen ducks, then laid them face up on the counter in front of them.

"Sweet, let's count 'em up!" Prompto was grinning as he began to turn over the targets. "Noct, count with me. This one's five," he stated, "and then eight, and…damn, negative six." Oh well, there were plenty more to bring the score up.

Noctis continued flipping over the next few. "Hey, got a fifteen," he boasted, shoving it over to the counted pile.

"Aw, so proud."

The scores varied for the rest of the ducks, some on the smaller or negative sides, presumably to keep the prizes from all being taken. Still, Noctis had gotten a few of the higher numbered ones. With one left to check, he had reached a whopping forty-five. Prompto was tingling with excitement; that chocobo was as good as won.

The last one stared them down with its chipped paint and bright, ducky smile. "You want to do the last one?" Noctis offered.

With a nod and bated breath, Prompto turned over the last one to add the number….

"Negative twenty?" he cried. "Why is that even in here!" Noctis groaned as well, and the two boys slumped against each other in defeat.

The man behind the counter drew up an apologetic smile. "Sorry, fellas, luck of the duck. But you still get to choose from one of the smaller prizes!"

He gestured to the side wall that sported the rest of this booth's treasures. They were way smaller than the grand prizes, more hug-to-your-chest size, but they were still something.

Noctis nudged Prompto's shoulder. "Go ahead and pick one."

"Mh-hm." Prompto's eyes flitted over the options: stuffed dogs and coeurls, moogles, various fruits for some reason, and a mini version of that giant chocobo above their heads. "Not to be predictable, but I do want the chocobo," he decided. So what if he consistently chose them? They were his favorites!

As it was being retrieved, Prompto turned to Noctis with a bright smile. "By the way, good job, dude."

Noctis shrugged, a light mix of embarrassment and pride in his face. "I would've won if it had just been about knocking them over," he reasoned.

Prompto chuckled. "Sure would've. They weren't ready for you," he teased.

"Here you are, sir." Holding it in his hands, Prompto decided that this was officially the best first date ever. How cool was it that his boyfriend won him something at a shitty carnival game?

They ventured back into the crowds, a bit dissuaded from trying any of the other booths for now. The chocobo plush was held securely with one arm while his other hand held fast to Noctis'. Now there was just the matter of deciding what else to do before calling it a night.

"Got any ideas what to do next?" Prompto questioned.

Noctis pursed his lips, doing a quick glance around. "Well, I think we already went on all of the rollercoasters, and you're not putting me back on that drop thing," he said definitively.

That drew a laugh from Prompto. "I half expected you to warp right off of that thing, by the way," he commented. "But fine, something else. How about…." He trailed off, rubbing his thumb along Noctis' hand. "Oh! We haven't done the ferris wheel yet."

What other way was there to end a night at the fair than being sappy while overlooking part of the city from the top of a rickety ferris wheel? Prompto hoped he wasn't coming across as too sappy, though; it was embarrassing, but he really did enjoy those dumb romantic fantasies. Even after being asked out, he was still worried that Noctis might laugh at him for wanting to do cheesy romantic things. Noctis just didn't seem like the type to enjoy that. He knew he was probably being ridiculous, but that didn't dispel the doubt in the back of his mind.

Thankfully, Noctis gave a casual shrug and nodded. "Sounds good to me. We can hit the ferris wheel and then head out for the night," he said.

Relief flooded back into Prompto's lungs, and before long, they were speeding up towards bright lights of the their last ride. Giggling, the two kept it up until they were running and dodging people in the crowd to get there first. Nevermind that they were still holding hands.

The pair stumbled to a breathless halt at the entrance gates, turning to each other with a full-out laugh. Prompto still had his chocobo clasped tightly between his arm and chest.

"After you," Noctis said, finally letting go of his hand to gesture to the open gate.

Prompto landed a playful punch to Noctis' shoulder as he walked past. "Really acting like a prince today, huh?"

"What, I don't normally?"

"Gonna have to give a no to that one, bud."

"Rude."

The worker got them situated in the seat, Prompto first. Noctis lagged behind slightly, turning to the lady in charge before climbing in next to his boyfriend.

Once they were snugly hip to hip, Noctis sighed. "How old do you think this ride even is?" he asked.

Prompto looked up. "Proooobably pretty old," he reasoned. "But I'm sure it's fine. They have, like, inspections and stuff, right?"

Noctis huffed a little laugh. "Hope so. If something does happen, I'll just grab you and warp off of this thing."

"My hero," Prompto teased. Though, as they began their ascent up and around the ferris wheel, the idea that it might break down did start to creep into his mind. A jarring bump halfway there didn't help one bit.

He pressed closer to Noctis' side just as he did the same. Prompto took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the feeling of being close to him soothe him. The warmth they shared was a nice defense against the cold winds, too.

A tiny smile formed on his face when he felt Noctis nuzzle slightly into his hair. "Sorry I couldn't get you the giant chocobo," he heard him murmur.

Prompto gave a slight shake of his head. "Nah, don't worry about it. This one's just as cute. And it's travel sized." He gave the toy a squeeze. Honestly, he was thrilled to have a gift from him in the first place. It was a silly little thing, but it made his heart swell in a way he thought he'd never feel.

As they completed the first rotation of the wheel, Prompto decided to look around more at the fair below. By now the sky was completely dark, making the colorful lights shine brighter. Laughter and shrieks of children reached even where they were up high. He even saw someone drop their cotton candy in a puddle, which he pointed out to Noctis so they could both grimace at the sight.

All of a sudden, they were stuttered to a halt at the top of the wheel. Prompto swung his leg a bit and laughed. "Welp, looks like we're up here forever," he joked.

Noctis snorted. "We'd better not be. I'm not sleeping on a ferris wheel."

"That's your problem with it?" Prompto laughed, making the seat sway slightly.

"There's other issues with living on a ferris wheel for the rest of my life. That one just came to mind first," Noctis said in his defense.

Prompto's laughter continued while he squeezed the stuffed chocobo to keep from dropping it. "Yeah, okay. Sleep is always your first thought."

"Don't judge."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Being stuck at the top really wasn't so bad. They could see everything, and it was just the two of them, despite there being hundreds of people around. It was as if they'd been brought up just to be alone for a few minutes.

A hand rested atop his thigh, and Prompto turned to face his date. And gods, did he look so good with the lights of the city behind him. Noctis' dark hair made him a silhouette, though his features were close enough to make out. His cool gray eyes had a soft shine to them, and he was looking at Prompto in a way that stole his breath. He had to be the luckiest guy in Eos right now.

Noctis quirked a small smile. "Is it…too cheesy if I ask for a kiss right now?"

Prompto paused, then cracked a smile as well. "Very cheesy. Do it," he replied.

"Then can I kiss you at the top of the ferris wheel?"

Without speaking, Prompto slid a hand along the side of Noctis' neck and pulled him in. His lips were tinged with slight cold, but they felt soft as they touched Prompto's. And just like that, they were sharing one of those dumb movie kisses on their first date at the fair. The thought made Prompto's smile grow as he leaned in more.

Once they pulled away, there were a few moments of silence between them. Then the ride began to move again, starting through one more loop before they would be let off.

Prompto couldn't hold back another little laugh. "Good way to end that?"

"Definitely," Noctis said, looking equally relieved and happy. "Now we can't say anything else for the rest of the time so we don't ruin it."

That earned a shoulder punch from Prompto. "Oh, shut up."

"See, like that."

Prompto grinned, taking Noctis' hand in his. "Too bad you're stuck with me, then," he retorted.

Noctis smiled back. "What a shame."

#I finally finished it lakfjagahgkjdk #this took me forever I am sorry #y'all be like: give me the tooth rotting fluff #and I try to provide #promptis #ask #thedarkrose17 #nananasonatra #answered

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