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infinitegalahad · 4 years

Note

Idk I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. Something cute, angsty, and smutty with a jealous Merriell Shelton and fem reader ?? You can have fun with it

Doux Comme Des Bonbons

Pairing: Snafu x Gender Netural! Reader

Summary: Snafu has a tendency to always wound up into trouble. Regardless, you still manage to put up with him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Implied sexual harrasment, jeleous! snafu, cursing, fighting, but very minor!

A/N: Of course I can! I feel you, hope this cheers you up! ❣️✨ I’m sorry this came so late. I’ve been studying for a few tests. I promise to work on a few requests this weekend though! I love the requests though, keep them coming in! This one was a little longer than expected. Snafu is my favourite himbo. The title translates to “as sweet as candy” bc this is fluffy-is. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

“Snafu, he’s just a classmate!”

Snafu slammed the door to your apartment building. If school and work weren’t hard enough, this had been your breaking point. As much as you loved your Cajun boyfriend, he was an absolute handful. It was like taking care of a manchild who you loved one minute, the next you wanted to scream in his face. Whenever things were peaceful between you, it was bliss. Endless worship, cuddles, cute french nicknames, romantic and steamy nights. It was anything a partner could ask for.

But when all hell would break loose between you two, it would be full-on discord.

“Classmate ma’ ass. Prissy lil’ fucker. I’ve seen ‘da way ‘dat preppy boy looks at you.” Snafu annoyingly badgered. He followed you around your apartment. Stopping at the kitchen counter, you spin on your heel to look at him straight in the face, a hand on your waist and an angry pout proudly displayed on your face. “ ‘Dat Chris or whatever his n-”

“Chad. His name is Chad.” You corrected.

The Cajun groaned as his calloused hands grasped onto the counter. He was extremely aggravated with hell in his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘yah hangin’ ‘round him. Chad kept starin’ at you like you were a piece of meat. Tried to fuckin’ steal ma’ seat next to you! ‘Dat lil’ sunva gun tryin’ to sit next ‘ta ‘ma Cher!”

Chad wasn’t someone you considered a friend or acquaintance. He was someone who was in your lecture who happened to be one of your friend’s inner friends. Whenever you would go to study, Chad would always tag along. He mainly wouldn’t study and would pester the hell out of you. He had even followed you to Snafu’s jeep, which proceeded to Snafu almost running him over. Thankfully you had convinced Chad not to press charges.

There was no denying he was a total asshole. He wore the brighetst polos, cheated on every test, and did whatever he pleased. Snafu was convinced that his parents paid his way into college. It baffled you how you’re best friend could even consider someone such as Chad a friend. His whole purpose of being alive was to annoy you. Snafu surely didn’t care for him. But you only had the class for another two months, and then you would be rid of Chad.

Two months had gone by and Chad’s advances had begun to slowly die down. He was aware that you were dating Snafu, who he deemed a man out of your league. It was true, but you loved Snafu with every part of your soul. Snafu was not your everyday boyfriend. It was like dating a man child off of his ADHD medication. He was a somewhat (but still young) man who worked in lumber, a little rough around the edge with a thick Cajun accent. You were a teacher’s pet with a kind heart and gentle presence. When your friend Eugene had set you up, you’d never thought it would work. But date after date, the two of you only grew closer. Within three months, you had moved into Snafu’s apartment since you could barely afford to live in a shitty dorm. When Snafu had offered his home to become your home, you knew you had fallen in love with him. As much as Snafu was the occasional pain in the neck, he was yours and you were his.

Also in those two months, your professor had invited you to a semester party after you had finished up exams. The university you attended was celebrating his retirement and had invited the whole school. Not wanting you to be alone, Snafu tagged along. He looked amazing that night; his wild curls tamed with copious amounts of gel, a white collared shirt, and dress shoes that were crisp. It would have been a lovely night if Snafu had simply kept his mouth shut, which he struggled with.

-----

Walking arm and arm with your Cajun boyfriend, you were literally the belle of the ball. The amount of compliments you had received on your outfit was impressive. You had to thank your friend for the simple, yet elegant outfit.

One of your classmates had stopped to compliment your outfit. After a short discussion, you and Snafu continued your way to your assigned seating. Smiling at one of your classmates, Snafu pulled you in closer to his body.

“Relax Snaf,” You smiled as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout? I’m fine. Justa’ lotta guys comin’ up ta you-I don’t blame them ‘doe. But if the-”

“Y/n!”

Snafu was cut off by your friend Hana. Best friends since birth, the two of you were inseparable. Same neighborhood, same high school, and same world-renowned university. Hana knew you better than your own parents at times. You left Snafu’s link to go give her a hug. Hana walked over and gave Snafu a pat on the back, knowing him quite well. You could tell she was a little standoffish with him since she thought he was way out of your league, but was glad to finally see you happy.

“Someone's looking dapper tonight!” Hana commented, patting Snafu’s shoulder. Snafu chuckled and nodded back, complimenting Hana’s (hideous) pink coral slacks. You saw Snafu’s confusion at how bright the pants were. Hana, even if she was your best friend, was a drastically different person from you. “Glad you brought him along, y/n. You guys look so cute together!”

Snafu stood right beside you. Feeling a firm hand on your waist, he looked over and gave you a devilish smirk. “Hana, my cher right here is ‘da real belle of the ball? They don’t even have to try-they just always look flawless.”

While being flirty, Snafu’s sweet side was starting to break through. The three of you chuckled as you gave Snafu a peck on the cheek. Cooing into his ear, “Merriell Shelton, you’re one heck of a kiss up.”

“What? I’m only speakin’ the truth.” He defended.

Hana smiled along at that, giving you a small wink. “Snafu is only speaking the truth. You guys are looking for your table?”

You nodded in response. The banquet hall was small and full of people. It was also dark which made it near impossible to find your assigned seating.

“We’re actually at the same table! Allow me to lead the way.” Hana stated. Snafu and you followed here through the crowd to the table. It mainly contained your classmates and a few of their families and friends. Everything was at peace until you saw a flash of a preppy patchwork suitjacket. It took a minute to process before it hit you and Snafu.

It was the one and only Chad.

Chad had been conversing with his friends.Upon seeing you, he let out a bostieorus laugh with his other preppy friends. Snafu felt immeidntly threatened in his presence, his hold tigenthing at your waist. He was trying to act tough but came off more as a child who’s favoruite toy was going to be taken away. As Chad stood up to come greet himself, you leaned over with your teeth gritted into a smile.

“Don’t say a damn thing. I can handle this.”

The tension between Chad and Snafu was evident. Here Chad was a young and egotistical frat boy who thousands of girls would squirm after. Here Snafu was, a bug-eyed Cajun with a heavy accent and one hell of an attitude. Chad still seemingly wasn’t over the fact that he was almost run over one time by Snafu. He even lightly joked about it, which didn’t sit well with any of you. This only caused Snafu’s burning hatred for Chad to grow even more. Chad was the gasoline and Snafu was the flame. Unfortunately, you and Snafu were placed right next to Chad and his friends. Hana was right next to you and knew that this wasn’t going to end well with the prepster and Cajun. Snafu would swing around the cheap whiskey in his cup and glare down Chad whenever he would even dare look at you. You hated the fact that Snafu was acting like this just because of Chad. The inner immature child in Snafu was beginning to show when Chad began to talk politics. It led to a passive aggressive agreement before you became the mediator before someone got a black eye.

Chad was busy talking to his goons when Snafu turned to you, a hand on your thigh. You placed your hand, squeezing it as you leaned in. “Bab-”

“I don’t like him. Prissy little bitc-”

“Merriell!” You scolded. “Langug-” Snafu smirked as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “I ain’t a Proctologist, but I know an asshole when I see one. Do people think he’s straight? With those pink tight pants, it’s sendin’ another message.”

A snort escaped your mouth as you leaned into the Cajun’s shoulder. He did have a point though. What did people see in Chad that was so attractive?

Snafu noticed that you were amused by his humor. That devilish smirk you knew all too well was plastered on his face. “We should bust outta here, ditch the party and go back home. Watch a ninety day fiance. I like what’s on ‘da outside, but i wanna see what’s on ‘da inside…”

Snafu’s fingers crawled closer to your stomach. You bit your lip in response, your cheeks burning. It was so hard to resist him all dressed up and neat. Two could play this game.

“What the hell am I ever gonna do with you, Merriell Shelton?”

“Beats me, (Y/p) (Y/l/n).” He purred into your ear. It was definitely starting to become harder to resist him, especially when he called you by your professional name. But you had to contain yourself and watch over Snafu for another hour.

Your professor had walked over, interrupting your intimate moment. It was mostly for the better. Snafu had a chance to talk to your professor and learn more about the class you had been taking. He chatted up a storm with Snafu, who seemed integrued. Snafu wasn’t one for learning whatsoever. But anything that his partner would do was of interest. Your professor had even complimented Snafu saying that he had found a lovely partner. As he walked away, Snafu stood by and grabbed your drink to go get a refill. You attempted to get up but Snafu put a hand on your shoulder, holding you down.

“Sit down, darlin’.” He stated, saying a hard d in his creamy Cajun voice. “I’m takin’ care of my smart lil’ student.”

The next few events happened too quickly for you to process. Once Snafu had left, Chad had scooted into his seat. You could smell the vodka on his lips. He began to be his typical self, but got much more invasive of your space. You mostly ignored him as he talked about how rich his family was and his summer house on Nantucket. Hana wasn’t there, so you were stuck until Snafu came back.

Chad began to insulet your boyfriend. It started out as nothing more than a drunken rant, but things slowly came to tug at your heart. He began to make fun of his appearance, calling him “bug-eyed” and “dirty looking skin”. He made fun of his work occupation, outfit, almost anything and everything about him. It was definitely an uncomfortable situation. Where the hell was Snafu?

The breaking point was when Chad had wrapped his arm around you, asking you “What the hell do you see in that loser?”

The next events were full of discord. Snafu had come over, furious. He had yanked Chad out of his chair, yelling in his face. Chad began to cry, threatening to sue you and Snafu. He had also thrown pathetic insults at Snafu, which only made Snafu’s burning hatred brighter. Everybody had their eyes on Snafu, you, and Chad. Embarrassed, you grabbed Snafu and dragged him out of the venue. It was best for the both of you to leave before the police were called. The last words you heard before leaving were Chad’s drunken cry.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer next day! Hope you both get evicted from your shitty little apartment! You people are so evil!”

------

“You could have just ignored him!”

“Like hell! He had yah’ hand ‘round you, tryin’ to s-”

“Oh for the love of god!” You cursed. “I could’ve handled that on my own. You didn’t have to yank him out of his chair!”

“I did have ‘ta! He was assaultin’ you! You’re my c-”

“Merriell, do not cher me. This is serious,” You hissed. All you wanted to do was go to bed and escape this horrible nightmare. “He could charge you for assault. Even if it was minor, you did try to run him over with your car. There’s no way you could stand a chance against that. If you had let me handle it, it wou-”

Snafu raised his voice, “Y/N! HE WAS HARRASIN’ YOU! TRIED TO PULL DOWN ‘YER PANTS! WHAT ‘DA HELL DID YOU THINK I WAS GONNA LET HIM DO? YOU JUST NEED TO FUCKIN’ LISTEN SOMETIMES!”

His sour tone definitely made your whole body go numb. When Snafu raised his voice, you knew he was mad. He was usually pissed off at the world, but it was chilling to hear him scream. His eyes widened as the gel in his hair began to wear off; his unruly curls began to show. You stepped back, feeling tears sting at your eyes. Snafu, upon seeing this, freaked out. He had been irritated the whole night. The last thing he wanted was to see you all upset. Your lip began to quiver as warm tears streamed down your cheeks. The Cajun’s face softened, walking over to apologize. He had fear all over his face. You were the person he loved the most yet at times he had no idea how to comfort you. Emotions weren’t his speciality. He grew up greedy and selfish since it was all he knew. When he had met you, Snafu had truly changed. He didn’t know how to describe it, but you had made him a better person. You gave him hope that the world wasn’t such a shitty place.

Turning around, you walk upstairs and block out everything. Your eyes are full of tears, blinding your vision. Snafu followed after you, begging for forgiveness. He was like a lost, heartbroken puppy. Instead of heading towards your shared bedroom, you decided to hide away in the bathroom. Slamming the door, you back into the wall and slowly slide down. All you wanted to do was just let your emotions loose and not have to think about absolutely anything. You just wanted to be alone with your tears and nothing more.

-----

The tears eventually stopped with your vision cleared. You could feel the dry makeup under your eyes. Your arms and legs felt numb as you were backed to a wall, staring into the shower. What did your professor think? It was horribly embarrassing for you. There was no way you and Snafu could win a lawsuit against Chad. He knew the power he had over the both of you. It was going to be an absolute nightmare. Hana was most likely blowing up your phone with notifications. What di-

Your thoughts went away when you heard the bathroom door open. It was the one and only Snafu who had the look of a sad puppy. He normally wasn’t this soft, but his face was ridden with guilt. You didn’t even react when he walked over and sat right next to you, his thigh right next to yours. Staring at the wall, he let out a sigh. His big blue eyes were right on you.

“Cher,” His fingers trailed onto your chin as he gently turned your head. Your face was destroyed with ruined makeup. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Guilt was all over his face. But there was no time to be whining, all he could do was attempt to make things right.

“Come on,” Snafu cooed. Grabbing your hand, he gently led you up to look in the mirror. This was the second time you saw yourself in the mirror that night. You looked like you had been hit with a tornado. The once neat outfit had been wrinkled, your neatly gelled hair wispy and falling apart, and your face covered with runny makeup. Snafu had gone through the cabinet to grab some makeup wipes. His fingers titled your head to him as he ran it gently over your face. Instead of fighting back, you let him remove the makeup from your face. He made sure to clean off every little bit from your foundation to your lipstick. As he reached your eyes, he peeled off one of your fake leashes and jumped back.

“Sacre bleu!” He cursed, throwing the eyelash into the sink. Snafu was a man who was scared by nothing, except for a fake eyelash. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a chuckle.

“ ‘Da fuck is dat thing? Fuckin’ spiderweb lookin’ bitch. Looks like it has a damn life of its own...” Snafu ranted as his words slowly turned into french. He turned over to you, biting your lip as you held back a laugh.

A smirk appeared on his face as he placed his hands on his hips, “You’d wear this shit?”

“Hana gave them to me.” You shook your head, smiling. He did have a point; they looked like spiderwebs. “I know, they're ridiculous.”

You felt Snafu’s calloused hands grab your waist and halt you on top of the bathroom counter. “Well atleast you make them look hot. Speakin’ of hot, you looked amazing tonight…” He looked down before looking right back into your eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry darlin’. Just seein’ him bother you made me livid. Ain’t no one gotta treat my cher like ‘dat. Especially ‘dat vineyard vines lookin’ prissy.”

You let out a sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “God, his suit was awful…”

“Fuckin’ blindin’. Like, pick a struggle with ‘dat middle part and layerin polo shit…”

A snort escaped your mouth. Snafu wasn’t wrong; Chad looked even worse than he usually did. It was always bright, blinding colors matched with even brighter, more hideous clothes. Snafu’s hand gently caressed your hair as you leaned onto him.

“By the way…” You cooed into his ear, “I’m not condoning what you did, but hearin’ you rip Chad to pieces was kinda hot...”

“Want me ta’ do it again? I’d love to see his little face all scrunched uppa’ ‘gain.”

“God no,” Shaking your head, your hands fiddled with his unruly curls. “If you do, i’m gonna take away all your cigarettes. We can’t handle the lawsuit that’s coming.”

“Y/n, hate to break it ‘ta yah, but I’m not a rule follower. Can I atleast run him over with ‘ma car? Or steal his trump sign?”

“Snafu Shelton, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

Snafu wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He held on tight, like a child holding a teddy bear. “Stay with me. Right here, right now.”

You smiled into his shoulder as the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms. Snafu was certainly a handful, but you loved him more than anything in the world. He was truly willing to do anything to protect your honor and make you happy. That was a true man, not a boy.

“Ok, your chokin’ me Snaf.” You stated. Moving his arms, Snafu looks at your eyes as you rubbed them. “What time is it?”

“Ten? Darcey and Stacey are on.” He said, grabbing your hand as he led you out of the bathroom into your bedroom. “We can poppa’ few beers and order from Shanghai.”

An relieved sigh escaped from your mouth. Alcohol and chinese food were the perfect cure to a horrible night. “Thank freakin’ god. Anythin’ to forget this god awful night.”

You walked away to throw on your sweatpants and one of Snafu’s flannels on. Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours as he pulled you back to whisper into your ear. “Can’t wait ta’ see you outta’ dat pretty lil’ number ‘ya got on.”

An over exaggerated gasp escaped your mouth as you playfully (gently) slapped his face. A snarky laugh escaped his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to change. “Keep it in ‘ya pants, soldier.”

“Sorry. Whenever I see yah, I lose control darlin’.” Snafu smirked devilishly. “Can’t help it that you're smart n’ sweet. Just like candy.”

“Seriously, what the hell am I going to do with you?” You repeat yourself as you finish changing. It baffled you how you could handle Snafu. He was a manchild at times.

The Cajun grabbed your waist and began to tickle you. You fought back as you held back your giggles. Carrying you to the bed, he laid you down as the two of you held each other. His hand drew careless figures into your back as you nestled your face into his neck. He placed a kiss into your face, gently sighing into it.

“I love you, y/n.”

“Love you too, you dirty bastard.”

#rami malek x reader #snafu shelton x reader #merriell shelton x reader #snafu shelton #merriell shelton #rami malek #the pacific #my writing

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binickandros · 3 years

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(same anon from the start of this discussion) i love how in depth you got with the answer!! and i 100% agree with you now. of course i would never want 2020!nick and 2020!tom to be exactly like book!nick and book!tom. king's representation of disabilities was already outdated at the time. i just think they should've had the same importance to the plot as they do originally, and tbf, imo they have one of the best dynamics in fiction, which could be deeply explored. i do give the writers some (very very little) credit for kinda making it less ableist (like having nick sign), but they did so wrong from the start (hiring a hearing actor) that everything kinda went downhill from there. and also, nick and tom are not the only inappropriately represented dynamic, like where the hell did stu/fran come from?? how about some more stu&glen?? they made frannie know ASL, wouldn't it make her dynamic with nick more interesting?? idk i'm not very coherent right now. i just loved your answer and had to keep the conversation going lol (and im tired of talking about harold 😔)

Right, I mean it’s an adaptation, so making changes (especially updates) on a 42-year-old work is perfectly fine. Even accepted. Esp with Nick bc p much everything happens inside his head. We’ve gotta make some changes so we know what’s going on with him, what he’s thinking, etc. But that’s the challenge of any book-to-screen adaptation, and if you aren’t prepared to tackle that, you shouldn’t do it! Anyway once again I have a lot to say...

I liked that at least someone knew ASL, but it was so obvious that 1) Henry Zaga can hear and 2) they had no one on set who was deaf or HOH. The scene where the committee is deciding to send spies is the worst example. First of all, Glen, who’s leading the discussion, is BEHIND Nick. So Nick doesn’t catch a single word of what he’s saying. Secondly, at one point Nick got up and walked away, with his back to the room. So he missed that entire exchange. If I remember correctly, Larry was sort of behind Nick too. Or maybe in front of him w his back to him? Either way, seated so that Nick couldn’t read his lips. I kept pausing to bitch about it to my mom bc it was so gd annoying.

Obvs Rob Lowe is a hearing actor as well, but he made an effort to like turn ppl’s faces toward him or crane his neck to try to see their faces. He actively tried to follow conversations the way a deaf lipreader might. Some of that could be Henry Zaga’s choices, but a director’s job is to direct, and a writer’s job is to include (at least some) stage direction.

I know that Frannie wasn’t meant to be fluent in ASL, but the fact that she translated what she was saying, but not what anyone else was saying, bugged tf outta me. Also just how Henry Zaga and Odessa Young signed! ASL (all forms of sign language, but that’s the one we’re talking about here) is a 3D language: it’s not just the signs themselves, but also facial expressions and body language. That’s why you can’t directly translate ASL into written English (along w syntax, but that’s outside the scope of this convo), but instead have to “interpret” what’s being signed into written language.

Like I’m very glad they chose to have Nick signing, but just like everything else w him, they didn’t put much effort into it. Part of that could be put on the actor (I have no idea what prep work he did for the role), but like...just based on everything we see onscreen, I seriously doubt he was encouraged to do more than just “learn the signs for these words.”

When they first announced the casting for Fran I was concerned just bc of how much younger than James Marsden Odessa Young is. I think they meant Stu to be a bit younger than James, like maybe late 30s, but...idk she looked like his daughter to me. They didn’t have any romantic chemistry, and the fact that we got no backstory as to how they fell for each other just made that worse. I’m not criticizing Odessa Young here; the poor thing was given nothing to do besides sit around looking wan and pregnant; but like I mentioned in another ask, what do these 2 ppl have in common?! Who knows, bc we literally know nothing about either of them, except that Frannie’s pregnant and Stu’s a widower.

And, yeah, I would’ve loved more Stu and Glen. I’m iffy on how they characterized Glen in some ways. Like when I heard the casting for that I was a hard NO, partially bc Greg Kinnear isn’t old enough, but then they changed the character so that the casting choice worked...I’m just not sure if the character changes worked for me, personally. I did like his death scene better in this one, though. And that he actually got through to Lloyd.

Like we all keep bitching about Nick, bc that was the worst example, but ALL of the “good” characters were seriously under-served here. Where were the prophetic dreams? Where were the groups coming together out on the road? Where were any scenes of them bonding or getting to know each other in Boulder?

I was literally just telling a friend (in the middle of typing this answer) that I think sometimes when people adapt horror (I’m looking at YOU, Kubrik, bc yes The Shining is a gr8 movie, but it’s a dreadful adaptation) they think “it’s horror it’s gotta be scary” and forget that a lot of what makes the best horror is characters. Genre fiction is criticized for being too plot-driven, as opposed to literary fiction being character-driven, and while DUH obviously the plot is hugely important in a novel like The Stand, would you actually give that much of a fuck what happens if you didn’t care about the people involved?

Nick’s death carried so little weight bc they’d diminished the character to a shadow of himself, so it was just like “oh that cute boy with the eye patch died, how sad.” Unlike when I saw the 94 miniseries (before I read the book), and I was screaming at my TV. For all that I can bitch about Game of Thrones (and I can. a lot.), D&D at least knew in the first few seasons to make Ned a character you cared about, make Robb a character you cared about, so that their deaths were as hugely shocking and tragic as in the books.

Am I saying The Stand failed worse than Game of Thrones?! Idk. That’s...saying a lot...I’ll think about it and get back to you. Game of Thrones failed so much more often, and for so many more years...

#the stand #nick andros #frannie goldsmith #stu redman #glen bateman #anonymous #asked and answered #meg rambles

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mythrilhusk · 3 years

Text

Korosensei Never Dies -Chapter 9

Words: 2,140 Ao3 Version Chapter 8 (Last)

TW: threats of violence, heavy (but short) discussions of death/murder

Quackity scowls blearily at the returning heroes. He and the other Ducklings were up the whole damn night trying to work out infiltration plans after Bad gave them the location of the laboratory and then peaced out with his team of scammers. Bad won't be returning again, but thanks to him, the Ducklings missed the whole rescue mission.

It's summer vacation, so everyone ought to be home anyway, but Philza promised to teach them fighting, and by the goddamned stars, Quackity is determined to make the old man follow through.

Philza steps tiredly into the classroom. His bloodshot, baggy eyes go wide in surprise as he sees all the students gathered there. Quackity salutes him with a smirk. Ranboo hides in the shadows of the door, watching Phil with worried sulkiness.

"Kids, I need a favor." Philza collapses into a chair, hiding his face. "I know you want him dead. But- please. Wait a bit." He hesitates and then continues in a ragged voice, "Purpled hit him with a neutralizing agent. He- he can die, again. I'm begging you all, please don't tell anyone or try to kill him until our time is up."

"Why should we??" Quackity demands, realizing immediately with a confusing mixture of delight and horror that Technoblade has been rendered vulnerable. Does this mean their plan to sneak into the lab is pointless now? "I don't know." Philza hiccups. He's crying. The tears burn a hole through Quackity's delight. "I don't know, dammit. Please, just wait to kill him at the end of the year. No, better, kill both of us then, I've done the same terrible things as he has! I should be punished too, goddammit, why is he the one to suffer for both our crimes??"

"I'll wait." Quackity leans back. "I'll fucking wait till time's up, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up my revenge."

"I'll wait too!" Tommy cries. "I'm the fucking king of procrastination!"

Sapnap and the Ducklings follow Quackity's example. The others follow Tommy's example. Together, the class proclaims their willingness to postpone Techno's death.

Philza rubs his eyes and takes the handkerchief Tommy stole from Wilbur to offer him. "Thank you, kids."

"We still get fighting lessons, right?" Quackity asks with a scowl.

"Yes, of course you do. You've all earned them." Philza smiles tremulously. "Ranboo, Techno, you can come out."

Ranboo steps into the light, blatantly normal-seeming, so unlike the nightmare Tommy and Charlie described. He hovers beside Technoblade as the former terrorist limps through the room to reach his desk. He seems so small and frail without the mutation-induced strength. He looks so weak. Quackity could put a bullet through his head right now and he wouldn't be able to dodge or absorb it.

But Quackity sees Philza watching Techno with worried, fond eyes. He thinks of Sapnap. Of Techno eating the goddamn grenade to save Sapnap.

Quackity decides he can wait. If he kills Technoblade right away, after all, Philza won't give anybody fighting lessons.

And if Philza doesn't give them fighting lessons, then who the fuck is going to wreak vengeance on whatever motherfucking scientists created the mutants?

++++

Niki and Jack watch through binoculars as their enemies spar with each other in the clearing outside the remote school building designated for Class 3-E. "Dang." Jack says. "They're not bad."

"They can't fight a bomb." Niki grins.

"Much less ten." Jack matches Niki's toothy smile.

"Did you get the supplies?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good work, Jack." Niki drops lightly from the tree. "We can proceed with the operation Smithereens in a week."

"Awesome." Jack chuckles darkly. "Do we really want to give them that much time, though?"

"We need to get them acclimated to the bait, first." Niki taps her fingers to her lips. "This will go wonderfully, Jack, don't worry. That loser class won't be a threat much longer."

++++

"Sir, Purpled is dead." HBomb reports, wincing nervously in apprehension.

"The fuck he is, I told that bitch to get me Technoblade, and by god, he'd better do it!" Schlatt tips a whiskey bottle into his mouth, gulping the burning liquid down. He lowers it and peers at HBomb. "Unless somebody fucked up again."

"He must have, sir." HBomb grasps the lifeline eagerly. "The neutralizing agent was nowhere near his body."

"What?" Schlatt says calmly, his tone barely warning of the torrent of rage he's about to unleash upon the poor unwitting HBomb. "Where the fuck is it, then?"

"Our clean-up team found the crushed casing nearby!" HBomb continues to dig his grave. "So-"

"So he found it, and destroyed it." Schlatt snarls.

HBomb nods quickly. "Y-yes, but-"

"Do you know how long it took to make enough neutralizer for one dart??"

"Months, sir, but-"

"And you're telling me Purpled fucked up badly enough that somehow that goddamn mutant knew about the dart and destroyed it."

"Well- see, we have reason to believe Dream is involved!"

"Damn it!" Schlatt bellows and smashes the whiskey bottle on the table. His hand starts to bleed and sting from the shards. "HBomb." He growls, trying to pretend he's still in control; he needs to still be in control. "Why the fuck is that motherfucking spider involved?? I gave him a mutant already, why the hell does he want to steal mine??"

"I thought you'd want his help!" HBomb squeals. "So I let him know we're trying to hunt Technoblade down!"

"Fuck this, fuck you, you motherfucking imbecile, you complete and utter moron, why the fUCK WOULD YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THIS??" Schlatt roars.

HBomb cowers, hiding ineffectively behind his broom. "I- I'm sorry, sir, but I thought-"

"Well, there's the fucking problem, yeah, bitch?? You thought. I do the thinking here." Schlatt reaches for his gun. "You want to know what I'm thinking, HBomb? Do you want to know what I'm thinking of, right fucking now??"

"Pl-please-" HBomb whimpers, staring into the barrel as it aims between his eyes.

"I'm thinking you're fucking useless to me, HBomb. And you know what happens to useless whiny bitches like you, right?"

"Please don't kill me!" HBomb sobs.

"Ahh, whatever." Schlatt lowers the gun, too furious to admit he can't bring himself to actually pull the trigger and become a murderer. "Leave my sight and don't fucking show your ugly mug for a week."

HBomb scurries away, leaving Schlatt to bind his bloody hand, alone in the sterile laboratory.

++++

Getting beaten up would have been bearable. Being bullied mercilessly would have been completely deserved. But being completely and utterly ignored for days on end breaks Eret like a goddamn crusher.

The more he thinks back on her actions, the guiltier she feels. During the sparring classes, they copy Philza's moves alone, behind everyone else working with partners. When the class decides to camp in the forest for the rest of summer vacation, Eret sets up his tent several meters away from the rest. She stands back and watches their former friends banter and laugh as they raise their own tents.

"Hey."

Eret almost jumps at the low voice of Ranboo addressing her. Turning, he faces the mutant, clenching her hands to hide the trembling. "Yeah?"

Ranboo steps up next to them, gazing into the smoking campfire amidst the scattered tents. "Why are you scared of me?"

"You- you already know why." Eret stares at his hands. Out, out, damned spot.

"Um. I don't really remember, but yeah, okay." Ranboo sighs. "I- I don't think I'm sorry."

"Neither am I, apparently." Bitterly laughing, Eret grips her chest as the sharp pain of grief blossoms.

"I think you are."

"What do you know??" Eret lashes out, shoving Ranboo. "If everything had gone according to plan, it would all be fine!"

"But you still wouldn't have any friends." Ranboo replies calmly.

It hurts that he's right. Eret knows he's right. They turn away, hunched and close to tears. "Why am I scared of you?" She mutters in a low, desperate voice. "Because I know. I saw what you are. I know you- you killed Purpled."

Ranboo frowns. "Techno killed him." He says it so casually. Techno. As though the bastard wasn't a mass-murderer and terrorist, bestowing violence in the name of anarchy and blood. "What do you think I am?"

"A monster." Eret snaps, rounding on Ranboo, who backpedals with surprised fear in his eyes. "You're a monster. You might not remember. Your friends might pretend to forget. But I know."

Ranboo gathers his composure and stands his ground, forcing Eret back a step. "If I'm a monster, and I protected my friends... what does that make you?" He turns on his heel and storms away into the trees.

Shattered and lost, Eret can only watch him disappear.

++++

Karl slips a briefcase under the table to his contact, who takes it and gives it a little shake. His contact then slides a folder over the table. Karl snatches it and stuffs it in his backpack. The two remain in silence for a moment longer. Karl leaves first.

Once out of the main school's cafe, he runs all the way through the woods to the Ducklings' treehouse. Echoing footsteps crack twigs behind him as he reaches the gang's base.

"Hey, what's that?" Fundy doesn't even bother trying to hide anymore as Karl climbs into the treehouse.

Karl pulls the ladder up. "None of your business."

"C'mon, we're in the same class!"

"You're not a Duckling."

"I can help!! Pleassse?" Fundy begs.

"Who the fuck is bugging you, Karl??" Quackity sticks his head out the window. "Fundy?? Get the hell outta here."

"That was HBomb you were talking to!" Fundy cries desperately. Karl groans and hides his face in his hoodie. "I know that guy! I used to work for him!"

"Where?" Quackity asks.

"Some laboratory in the capital!" Fundy cries. "I was shadowing him for a potential internship!"

"Let the ladder down." Quackity orders. Karl sighs as he obeys.

"Fine, but I don't trust you."

"You don't have to." Fundy gives a smug smile as he leaps up the ladder.

Karl enters the treehouse and sets the blueprints down on the table. Sapnap and Foolish stop painting Connor's hair and gather around with Quackity and Fundy.

The laboratory blueprints spread across the table, promising revenge. Karl looks up and sees the hungry fire in Quackity's eyes. He looks to the side and meets the molten steel in Sapnap's gaze.

Quackity draws his dagger and sets the point on the blueprints. "Whoever the fuck's been experimenting on people, let's fucking find them and end their pathetic lives."

++++

Technoblade slashes the saplings with a rapier, taking out his frustrated fury on the innocent young trees, ignoring the twinges of pain. He shouldn't be this weak.

Even before Schlatt started experimenting on him, he was stronger than this. He was powerful. The best fighter, the best tactician, the best at strategy. Now his body is frail and hurts merely to move.

He tries to snarl, but his breath catches in his throat, fear slithering roots into his chest. Irrational. He's being irrational. Technoblade isn't afraid of anything.

Except perhaps the pale blue of scrubs, the glint of scalpels, the searing agony- No! Technoblade scowls and tries to shove the flashes of terror and hunger and bitter, helpless rage away.

Philza approaches him with a cup of tea. Technoblade flinches away, unable to look at the man he failed, the friend he abandoned. "Techno?" Philza sets the tea down on a fallen tree and presses a hand to Technoblade's shoulder.

"Who am I, Phil?" Technoblade begs. Weak. The old Technoblade would never beg, would never cry.

"You're my friend." Philza answers.

"Why aren't I dead?"

"The kids agreed to keep it a secret and wait until the year is up."

"Phil. It's not going to last forever, Phil, you need to kill me soon. I can feel the damn resonancy in my chest. I don't know how long you have, but you need to kill me before I destroy the world."

"Techno." Philza's voice shakes. "No. Techno, we'll find something."

"Find what?? It hurts, Phil. It hurts to move, it hurts to talk... I've killed so many people, Phil, I deserve this, I deserve to die! Kill me, please. The kids are too innocent. They don't need to be turned into murderers like me." He thinks of Quackity, the blazing fire. He thinks of Ranboo, the gentle nightmare. Of Tommy, the merciless sunshine. Each and every student. They deserve better.

"Technoblade." Philza grips Techno's chin and brushes back his hair. "I deserve death as much as you. But I'm going to keep living. There's still people we need to kill, Techno, there's still governments to dismantle! We can't end now! We'll find a cure. A real cure. I promise."

"I don't want you to die."

"Ditto, mate." Philza embraces Techno gently. Techno wraps his arms around his friend, afraid to let go.

#tw violence #tw threats #tw discussions of death #technoblade #ranboo #quackity #philza #niki nihachu #jack manifold #jschlatt #hbomb #karl jacobs #fundy #fanfiction #not rpf #no ship #dream smp au #dream smp

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the-nysh · 4 years

Note

At what point in the story you started liking Garou as a character? What was his first impression on you and how did it changed later as the story progressed?

Oooh! What a GREAT question, I’m so glad you asked! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ (Cause yes, my perceptions of him certainly did change over time! And that’s one of the fun things I love to see happen with other opm fans too.) So let’s see…*pulls up a chair and shovel to dig thru nearly 5yrs of archives* where to begin~

It was definitely a gradual process (so buckle in, this is gonna be a looong chronological trip thru memory lane. About 3500~ words!)

First impressions

Early on (and cause I’m skeptical to most new characters who I don’t ‘know’ yet), I remember feeling kinda like ‘huh? Who the heck is this guy? This wannabe Hiruma-lookalike (recognizing some of Murata’s recycled Eyeshield 21 char design elements for him) with some silly double Vegeta hair? The hell does he think he’s doing??’ Beyond being kinda incredulous about him, I honestly didn’t really give him much passing thought or attention either, and definitely not anything on a deeper level yet. He was just kinda there (I suppose?), but also out there forcefully (cockily and somewhat annoyingly?) inserting himself as the ‘villain’ into the story at times (which wasn’t really my thing), seemingly WAY in over his head with reckless antics and overambitious about what he was claiming to be and challenging himself to do (which I thought seemed both ridiculous and ironic to set up like that when characters like Saitama exist to directly check/refute his aims).

So at the time I wasn’t fully ‘on board’ or invested much in his story/concept yet cause I hadn’t really seen him…define himself (beyond those first impressions) into his own fleshed-out character. Because he still kept reminding me too much of other characters (I even heard him with Hiruma’s voice) rather than breaking out on his own. Murata’s early art also had yet to really evolve and settle him into his own distinguishable ‘face’ for that matter too (he would though later, when he’d draw ‘Garou’ recognizable as himself and not like…‘Hiruma’s shadow’ anymore). So with all that coming in, it’s hard to ‘see’ or genuinely ‘like’ a char at first when they haven’t done much yet to distinguish themselves from others and grow into their own. (Oho, how time will tell~)

This impression of Garou hadn’t really changed much and continued all thru the Metal Bat fight, by the way. (I actually caught up to the manga around the time Murata introduced MB with the centipedes and was about to start his fight with Garou. Events which weren’t on my highest priority to see either, cause I still mostly preferred seeing Saitama + Genos interact instead.) But on a surface level, I at least knew Garou was fun/impressive to watch and his excitable/feral energy was infectious and entertaining (Murata really knew how to hype him up too), but other than that, I’d yet to really ‘like’ him on his own (enough to talk/blog about) still.

I first eased into reblogging stuff with him back in Oct 2016, which included the first reblog of his back muscles (lol) appreciating how Murata drew him facing Watchdog Man so ksjggh that part of the story (when Murata was teasing their fight) was also when Garou starting having a presence on my blog. :O

First turning point

However, I distinctly remember the first ‘aha I see now’ point in understanding him better was when I did a second reread of the webcomic. (I don’t exactly remember when that was, but probably sometime during the tournament arc when the pace was kinda dragging, so I prob reread the wc around then for fun.) It was around early-April 2017 when I later admitted that (in the tags):

I’ve come to really like Garou, a second read of the webcomic made me fond of him, of his background and ideas he wished to set out and change, his heart was in it and he had his set of morals, but he was young and brashly took the wrong path, I really want to see him return someday now that he's learned better

Cause following the big webcomic reveal at the end of his arc (when Saitama calls him out), going back thru his entire story again you could totally spot all the consistent hints and signs (from both his backstory and actions) ONE sprinkled the entire time, making everything revealed about him true, and not suddenly sprung up outta nowhere. It was finally like ‘aaah, I understand what’s up with him and can sympathize where he’s coming from. Yes that makes sense. :O’ However, this clarity/acknowledgment had yet to shift from simply ‘seeing’ or understanding a thing as knowledge, to actually feeling it (connecting on a deeper/personal level) later. That’ll remain a big distinction.

May 2017, I first started writing some early meta break downs about him, starting with his end-arc parallels in Suiryu’s despair moment and from this, there was acknowledgement how all ONE’s manga additions (up til then this was still all tournament arc stuff) were only building further context towards what’s to come much later on in the webcomic.

June 2017, I started posting stream coverage about him (vs Watchdog Man stuff when he intercepts King and Saitama.) Around this time I also admit this kinda stuff in tags ‘goodness how I love that this nerd has a soft spot for that kid (truthfully he's not monstrous at all)’ for appreciating the manga’s wholesome extra Tareo moments.

Second big turning point

Around Sept-Oct 2017 was when post content/stream coverage kinda started exploding during the whole vs A/B heroes + shed fight. This whole sequence, following the tournament arc, was the first big long-awaited return back to the wc’s script (with style!), but with significant expansions (esp to his character) never seen before. In particular, the bullet shielding moment was changed/revised from him simply standing there in the wc, to Garou protecting Tareo in the shed.

Truly awesome and moving because dang, he selflessly put his life on the line for that ‘Garou the determinator fending off the impossible while protecting a kid ;o;’ Firmly standing up to (injustices) and revealing his solid moral core, like wow, what a guy. <3

Murata’s stream output picked up significantly back then too (compared to his slower pace drawing the previous arcs), so I also admitted: ‘gosh been cheering for Murata's hard work just like Garou's in-chapter determination!’

But also cause this whole fight was like the first actual, legit demonstration (shown, not told) of Garou’s prodigious fighting skills, intelligence, tenacity, resourcefulness, perseverance, etc. Like this is what he’s actually capable of when pushed to the brink; testing the actual quality of his character (showing his true colors) and allowing those merits to shine while under unfavorable, difficult, and desperate conditions. And all impressively done in a way to make the audience both believe it and root for him (presented from his side much like a protagonist? Wild! 8D) It was extremely thrilling and badass (truly that whole shed part was brilliant, narratively and spectacle-wise. As I’ve repeatedly gone back to write about many times and again. :’D) My impressions of Garou around this time:

yoooo boi see I really like Garou, the wild prodigy determinator with a misguided goal, going all out and demonstrating his talent and prowess (even tho he gets in over his head), PROTECTING CHILDREN WHEN HE PRETENDS HE DOESN'T CARE, omfg what a softie (as Saitama would say) :'D, yaaa see he was never a 'real' monster at all, Saitama can see straight through him, and what he REALLY wants to achieve

Dec 2017, first started getting some sporadic Garou anons after the whole epic manga spectacle vs Genos + Bang + EC fight with everyone.

Jan 2018, back when Garou was captured in the MA base and then left to his own devices above ground…things started getting really interesting. Including noticing ONE’s more careful (or perhaps more transparent?) approach to writing Garou’s manga portrayal this time around. Different and more nuanced from the wc for instance, so there were many fascinating contradictions and complexities to uncover (break down meta-wise) about his convictions, beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and how he applied those thru his actions and behavior (revealing decisive acts of character). This was when @gofancyninjaworld also started joining in to discuss and explore Garou’s ongoing dilemma with his goals and mindset. “His heart is in the right place, but his means are not, because at his core, he’s not a monster.” I admitted ‘Garou’s one of the most well-written characters in the story, I feel.’ And I was really looking forward to all the significant changes ONE was doing to make his manga story all the more defined and cohesive than it already was in the wc. That made things extra engaging (when there’s a desire to look deeper into things for fun and excitement for more).

Third turning point

Feb 2018 Oooh man. It was around here, (when Garou saves Tareo from the bullies and confronts RR and Bug God) that I was really starting to feel that shift happening (the impression of him turning into something more), so I had to comment on his ongoing characterization presented thus far (budding into a well-rounded, 3 dimensional character) and how ONE was (re)writing him in a more personal, sympathetic light that made him so easy to root for and genuinely likeable. I was fully AWARE of this happening and what both Murata and ONE were doing to increase his appeal. Admitting the more they revealed of him the more I was falling deeper for him, and fully welcoming it by narrative design. (Like alright let’s goooo! 8’D) Cause it was obvious how much differently and expansive he was getting portrayed vs the wc (with much less moral ambiguity). I said:

“Garou’s not simply a rogue, prodigious teen going on a spiteful rampage with an overconfident, slasher smile. Consistently, he’s been shown what really makes him tic: what gets him serious, passionate, sincere, and desperate – things that force his hand to either fight or defend against, with standards and ideals that he’d put his life on the line for. All of it is great: a variety of expressive emotions and definitive acts of character that all build towards the whole. Which we’re then left to ponder exactly what that is. Is he truly a villain or a hero? Is he really a troublemaking bad guy or actually a misguided ‘nice guy’? The answer isn’t so black and white; it’s more like a mix of ALL of the above. And I LIKE that. As ONE has presented him, Garou is Garou, and not really someone to align or classify as simply one or the other. He’s in that kind of delicious gray zone where he’s getting put to the brink to show his true colors. And it’s so GOOD and refreshing to see.”

That plus the manga showing his deeper bond with Tareo, his gruffly protective qualities (ok but that’s kinda hot?) and a more sincere showing of his morals (which he refused to budge on no matter what anyone else ordered him to do), brought on all the feels. :’)

Stream coverage + ch commentary devolved to like unintelligible screaming, with some ‘man he’s so fucking cool,’ or ‘damn protective Garou’s SOO good,’ or ‘I swear the more Murata draws of him the more I fall for him like wtf,’ or even the flat out ‘GODDAMMIT MURATA ;A;’ types of suffering reactions, ahaha.

At this point I was all ‘bring on the Garou appreciation; he deserves it; I have a mighty NEED’ but was kinda annoyed/frustrated with the fandom cause there was hardly any recent fan content of him (relevant to his current plot progression, it was all suspiciously dry or old ship-related content I wasn’t interested in cause the plot had moved on, so I was like omg where is everybody, hello?!) It was already a dry spell in between seasons so overall fan content was slow anyway, but it seemed like there were so few actual fans of him (to my confusion?!) So I started making my own content (beyond just the stream coverage and ch reactions/commentary + meta) with the expression posts appreciation.

March 2018. U-uhoh, things (and posting frequency especially) were starting to escalate. His reaction to literally getting backstabbed by the monsters and losing Tareo (his quiet but seething controlled feral rage) definitely had me feeling™ things.

Final nail in the coffin

April 2018 Oshit;; Garou forcefully storming and bulldozing his way thru the MA base, his awesome BIG DAMN HEROES moment rescuing Tareo from Royal Ripper, to his hilarious absolute tsundere™ moment denying it (before running into Rover and immediately protecting the kid again) pretty much destroyed me. This was also like the first time I’d seen ONE make a character go full tsundere mode and pull it off in a genuine comedic way (with the classic ‘it’s not like I came here to save you or anything baka’ line and all) so pfft, that was so much endearing icing on the cake. :’D

At this point someone even asked me who’s my favorite opm character, to which I was all, ‘Garou’s current manga content has been on fire so he’s been quickly skyrocketing into my favs (if he wasn’t there already)!’

But then Murata soon dropped THIS ‘protect the child’ page all with perfect timing, and I was…fucking doomed.

'sugoi ojisan' was pretty much the moment of instant death for me ;A; my constant reaction to the streams has been that gaijin 4koma meme with laser heart eyes for emphasis, and I'm pretty much losing my ability to articulate much beyond screaming at this rate

Garou’s behavior could then be summarized as ‘a very stubborn and in denial asshole tsundere little shit nerd. <3’ But there was classic ONE heartwarming irony in there too, cause Garou hadn’t fully ‘lost’ his battles either…during those critical times where he actually assumed the role of the ‘hero’ for Tareo instead. (Oho~)

basically Garou is a great character, the more you look into how ONE has built him the more meta af it gets

May 2018 (the long-awaited debut of the wc ‘scarf’ vs Rover towards Garou vs Orochi’s epic wtfshitstorm) lolwhoops~ I finally made the inevitable back muscles compilation while also writing longer, more in depth meta posts about him.

Murata delivered some of the best stream content we’ve seen of him. (Completely on FIRE, both literally and figuratively. And looking back, this was probably some of the most fun Murata’s stream sessions ever got. :’D Was awesome to be a fan tuning in during this time.)

even Murata was doodling chibis of himself freaking out in the margins XD

Delivering content from the pose of peak badassery…to dropping stream doodles of peak heartwarming/cuteness (Garou & Tareo in suits) on the fans for good measure.

bam Murata’s out to kill us with his art ...Murata can you like -maybe- chill? ABSOLUTELY NOT

Basically Murata knew exactly what he was doing, always delivering and servicing the fans (drawing the coke bottle was a fan suggestion too) yet also remaining a huge tease~

Towards S2 and beyond

June 2018, following the Orochi fight, Garou was put on a bus and absent from the manga for a while, so I went back revisiting older content again (rereading the manga for fun) and realizing/noticing/wondering stuff I hadn’t really caught about him before like…oh no why is he cute?? Was he always this way or had my eyes finally opened after everything??? (Cause aside from him being a little shit or a cool badass, he was also a complete dork and a nerd, and an oblivious dummy, and just…that was so…wtf endearing, a full package of fun to enjoy.)

But we soon got clips of Midorikawa’s voice reveal (from the opm drama cd) and all hell broke loose among the resident Garou fans. 8’D Especially cause his voice was ‘dark/smooth/mature/sexy’ as opposed to a higher-pitched, unhinged teen voice many had expected (remember that old Hiruma voice I first thought for him? So interestingly many fanboys were disappointed with this deeper voice casting). But also cause Midorikawa said “I’ll do my best to make Garou even more charming than before,” so we were excited to see Garou’s popularity spike even more cause of s2.

Aug 2018, the s2 key visual revealed with Garou prominently featured up and center and I WAS NOT PREPARED!!! I remember having like a full hyper-incoherent breakdown because of this so…yeaaaaah. 8’D I was all rationalizing,

If anything it’s all Murata and ONE’s fault that (the hype and appreciation for him) feeling’s grown even stronger. He was already a thoroughly fun walking meta source, but the manga made his softer/compassionate moments much more obvious (than in the wc). Just watch as this badass dorky nerd becomes even more hugely popular than he already is!

April 2019 was his anime debut…coincided with his post-arc WEBCOMIC DEBUT AFTER 5 FUCKING YEARS (before he even returned in the manga even) IMPECCABLE timing from ONE, holy shit people lost their minds. Including Murata, who had to draw him too! With all that and the anime airing (adding even more wholesome cute Tareo interactions not seen in the manga), fandom participation (+anons) really started to kick off.

I remember seeing the influx of new fans and how so many (who didn’t ‘know’ him yet either) would unironically label him as genuinely ‘evil’ or a ‘heinous villain’ at face value, which….uhhhhhh were the kinda takes that were hard to take seriously, but I appreciated how ONE’s writing allowed the readers to see and think for themselves as the narrative revealed more (rather than believing everything the characters said or claimed), so it’d only be a matter of time until they ‘saw’ the truth about him too. :’)

May-July 2019 the anime continued airing with fandom activity popping, until August when he finally reappeared and ‘awoke’ in the manga! ;A; After like an entire full year of him mia too. This was also the time frame when all the thirsty (and interestingly meta-hungry) Garou anons started (finding me???) regularly chiming in with fun participation. I was grateful though, cause they prompted certain takes I couldn’t have come up with on my own, and allowed me to think, examine, and explain things much more closely and thoroughly than I had ever posted before. (Yaaay~) Such as looking into just what IS it about him?!

“Garou wouldn’t be as compelling, engaging, and appealing as a character without (all) those other interesting layers and nuances to talk about too! :D It’s even better that way! Cause Murata can draw everyone looking drop-dead gorgeous and conventionally attractive, so just having a pretty face and impressive muscles isn’t enough to make him stand out in a special way from the rest of the cast. Already all those things (about him) are certainly impressive, so just what is it about him in particular? (That makes him unique.) The fact Garou has all that AND those other compassionate & interesting qualities to him just makes it the icing on the cake for a complete, well-rounded package. The fact we can know him, for all his feelings and attitude why he behaves and acts the way he does, such as when he’s contradictory, troubled and tsundere-like sometimes, to hardcore and badass other times, to softer and empathetic to fiercely righteous, protective and determined other times, and all portrayed in the way he’s capable of the range (and makes us feel) the entire spectrum of emotion too. …Like whoa (I could keep going but I’d be preaching to the choir at that point aha), all that only enhances what’s already there. In this way, I feel the Garou we’ve come to know by now is much more endearing and appealing than the one we were introduced to at the start. Because as he appeared then, he may have seemed like just another wannabe thug-of-the-week we might not have given much passing thought & attention to. But now…uhoh, you could arguably say he’s grown to the point he’s almost taken over the rest of the manga (within good reason!) by challenging our perception of who’s even the active protagonist. :O Who keeps us engaged and tuned in to see more. Buaha, just what the hell happened?! Now that’s quite the impressive feat from both ONE and Murata to create a character with a lasting impact like that!”

…So that’s what happened. :’D In my opinion, I feel Garou’s best moments where we (or really, I) got to know him better (shed scene, Elder Centipede aftermath, dine n dash, rescuing Tareo, all up towards his fights vs Rover & Orochi) mostly only happen until after s2 so… Since those were some of my absolute fav manga moments (which only enhanced my perceptions of him), those’ll be the moments I’m really looking forward to see animated in s3. But most of all, I’m hoping to witness some of that same ‘aha!’ gradual realization process happen to newer fans who come to appreciate him too. :’3

#Anonymous #replies #opm #garou #commentary #long post #(readmore pls actually work! ...i think it broke after editing it once)#anyway THIS took plenty of time to put together and relive/remember all those moments from years ago 8'D #how things certainly changed (and escalated!) but here's a breakdown of everything; enjoy~

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chaoslordjoe · 4 years

Text

RWBY - Do I Ship It #2? Ruby Rose

I’ve decided to continue this whole shebang with going over ships for individual characters each time. And for this one, we’re looking at our favorite cooking-deepthroating reaper, Ruby Rose...That may be one of my favorite character descriptions I’ve ever typed.

With introductions outta the way, let’s talk some Ruby ships.

White Rose

kinda leaves me indifferent?

overrated

would read a fic about it

Ideally, White Rose has become one of those ships that half of the FNDM loves to hate. But me, I’m not as triggered by it, let alone nowhere near as angered by it’s presence simply because it’s not Bumbleby.

Unlike BB, in which it’s presence makes me wanna slug my screen every time I see a comment thread screeching high praise about it, I can look at White Rose and just be more like: “Eh. It’s okay.” Simply because I have seen WR content that I enjoy, and that at least many WR shippers know when to shut up when they’re called out unlike Wasps.

Really, a lot of the content has a lot heart put into it to where I really can’t get mad at it. I know it’s a WLW ship. I know that’s become a thing to generally hate among RWBY fans. But I do think that WR is the lesser of two evils between that and BB not because I have a lot of friends who ship it, but because I think folks crap on it way too much compared to the demon that BB has become.

Am I saying there aren’t toxic WR fans still around? Hell no. They need to be called out on it, too. But I’m also generally more relaxed about the ship. Nothing major really.

Ladybug

I SHIP IT

CUTENESS OVERLOAD

underrated

hELL YES

Ladybug has become a recent addition to my ship list a while back. But I’ve fallen head over heels for it in such a short amount of time.

Even many folks I’ve spoken to who tend to gag at the mention of WLW ships in a fandom as egregious as RWBY’s agree that the Bugs are really harmless given soft the content of this ship often is. I’m not saying that Ladybug is all “wee-hee-we’re-a-couple-of-happy-go-lucky-dorks” because that would make it unoriginal and boring to read in many cases.

No, the reason I’ve grown to adore Ladybug so much is because I’m one of those who parrots how much of a missed opportunity (like the show is as a frigging whole) how many interactions there could be between Ruby and Blake.

Why wouldn’t they? They’re both into fantasy stories, both have darkened color schemes, and share some general views on why they fight. Really, Ladybug is just a good way for me to fill the void of just how much Rooster Teeth doesn’t give a fuck about how to organize their characters properly?

Volume 5 gets Freezerburn, and not onwards? Come on, RT.

But before I end up turning this into a rwde post, let’s just move onto the next ship.

Nuts & Dolts

I SHIP IT

CUTENESS OVERLOAD

Soulmates

I WOULD DIE FOR IT OKAY

Yeah this one was pretty obvious. But who cares?! I frigging adore Nuts & Dolts.

Let me just be clear in saying that I can ship it platonically/romantically, simply because I love the bond that Ruby and Penny share. They’re both hyperactive, kindhearted and strong-willed girls with a penchant for bladed weaponry and wanting to make the world a better place for everyone.

This initially made N&D into a guilty pleasure ship for me. But over time, I just couldn’t resist or get mad at it because I love how soft it feels. Same reason as Ladybug for the most part. But overall, I like N&D because of just how much soul there is between two people who were born differently with a set of powers that aren’t what you’d call “ordinary”.

As someone who’s been called “unique” or other labels with the disability I have, I usually find it very pretentious and downright grating to see stories that are supposed to be uplifting about being born in a different manner because that can be really damn annoying after a while.

Yeah, stuff like disability or other stuff is under-represented in pop culture. But often it’s portrayed in a very “Hollywood” fashion even if it’s not a work from that culture and work mindset.

I’m not saying N&D is one of those “unique” portrayals, but as something that shows what happens when two saviors who wanted a normal life have someone in each other that they can trust and even love for their shared experiences of being born differently.

Which is why I’ve grown to accept Ruby and Penny as the popular fan portrayal of being girlfriends or platonic friends. They have so much in common, which makes it that much more endearing for me personally.

Okay. Those are some Ruby/Other girl ships outta the way. Now let’s discuss some Ruby/guy ships...Here’s where it gets a little odd.

Lancaster

BROTP

overrated

no thanks

Oh boy. I’m probably gonna get some flak for this entry...

Let me just be clear that this is a post that is NOT meant to attack any particular shippers. This is me stating what I feel about certain ships and me occasionally talking about how I think they would turn out.

It’s not my headcanon interpretations, per se. But instead it’s more how I picture it based on my experience with viewing relationships in my own life before I started discussing fandom ships.

Now that I have that out of the way, let’s discuss Ruby/Jaune.

When I first started watching RWBY, my first ship, like many others was Arkos (more on that when I cover Jaune). I felt that Pyrrha was just the right fit for a lovable dweeb like him with how it helped kick-start his character development and the framework for how he would improve himself overall.

Granted, I wasn’t really expecting Arkos to be canon since Pyrrha had died in V3. It was a tragic outcome for a ship that had so much buildup. And most of the FNDM agreed that Jaune needed a hug along with his friends to help him through it.

When I started to hear about the fact that Jaune was shipped with other girls in the main cast, I wasn’t really shocked since White Knight was already fairly popular. But when I found out about Lancaster, it was like: “Wait a second, people actually ship him with Ruby?”

Was more confusion than astonishment, to be honest. I didn’t really think that it would’ve been fitting despite how close and similar both team leaders were. But I decided to bite the bullet and give it a try with reading a couple of Lancaster works.

I got bored.

I’m not so much angry whenever I hear about Lancaster as I am just not impressed by how much fanon works recycle many tropes and plot elements.

Ruby is secretly in love with Jaune.

Jaune does something adorkable or manly which attracts Ruby.

Ruby makes/attempts to make a move on him with some crazy or titillating way that, while in-character for her, has been repeated one times too many in this or other ships featuring her.

Jaune is generally being a good boi throughout. I like Jaune, but I feel that he’s put in too many fanfics in which he’s overly good and pure. Again. It’s fitting for him, but sometimes a bit of difference in fan interpretation is nice. Make him angry, have him lash out at his friends at times. Just don’t make him a “perfect” boyfriend.

Both dorks often have to hide their relationship because of the possibility of Pyrrha being jealous, Yang going apeshit, or other characters reacting the way they do which is often buzzwords in a fic like that.

Lancaster shippers, I am not attacking you since this is your thing. If so, fine. But it’s not mine as I am giving an attempt to give constructive criticism about some of the ships listed here while talking about ships I like to make these posts all about even ground.

I prefer to see Ruby and Jaune as besties. Hell. I prefer to see them more like siblings considering how much Jaune acted like a big brother to Ruby on the road to Mistral with how Yang was bedridden with depression in V4. I also think that Jaune needs a friend right now rather than a love interest. The same could be said for a lot of characters right now, but that’s a different topic.

My biggest criticism for LC is that while I understand the similarities that they share, it’s the whole “opposite-gender-leads-fall-in-love” trope. This trope can be done right *coughRENORAcough* but is put in so many works that I’m not one of those fans who’s impressed with it.

The ship isn’t original, but it’s nothing to make me wanna rage-post like I’m Keemstar on Red Bull or the like. And I know people who are into it, to which I tell them: Good for all of you. It’s simply not my cup of tea.

Rosegarden

would read a fic about it

meh

not really my thing

Oh god, how I wish it wasn’t harvest season!

Kidding. Kidding. Rosegarden is legit, and all my friends in the group who ship it are wonderful people.

Another ship that I can’t really get angry at since compared to other ships that cover things like young love or ships of people who were born differently (see my Nuts & Dolts entry), RG is pretty fucking harmless and I can tolerate it more even though I’m not into it.

While I understand why it seems hypocritical of me to share and repost stuff related to RG on occasion, this is simply because I have reason to share it based on how much I’ve interacted with shippers and how I’ve actually had productive discussions with them outside of their ship.

It’s the community which I like more than the ship because of how much more chill they are. But there’s also a big reason why I know that some people crap on this one.

Ozpin.

Dude, if I had a Dollar for every “RG-is-pedophilia-because-Oscar-is-Ozpin’s-puppet” fallacy that was posted I wouldn’t be needing a stimulus check. Let me explain to y’all why that’s bullshit.

(RWDE mode online)

Is Ozpin eons of years old? Yes. He’s from Humanity 1.0 and was thrown into the bodies of men in the modern world in his war against Salem. It’s a rough situation with a lot of baggage to any relationship he puts up or wishes to even build-up and I don’t think it should be swept under the rug because there’s a lot of stuff that should be brought up about the guy.

Is Ozpin intervening on any potential interaction between Ruby and Oscar? No. Canon or no, Oz has been a neutral party in whatever interactions the two kids have because it’s not really his business. Do you honestly believe that if Ozpin would be the kind to boss his host around that he would attempt to butt in on their friendship?

As an Oz critic, I can say that while I understand both interactions, I draw the line at this ship being considered pedophilia.

I mean, come on! The FNDM ships Ruby with villains like Roman, Cinder and Salem, who are adults when she’s a teenager! And suddenly it’s okay to claim pedophilia just because Ozpin is present?! ARE YOU HIGH?

If we’re going with that logic, fine, just have Ozpin ascend from his brain after Salem is 86′d, THEN we can have a development in RG’s friendship whether it’s romantic or not. But leave the fans of this pairing out of it!

(RWDE mode offline)

The reason I don’t ship Rosegarden is because I’m not a fan of the whole “young love” trope either. I wouldn’t mind it so much if Oscar wasn’t relegated to a support role due to being an Oz host and he had more screen time rather than the old wizard.

Maybe I’m just too cynical about stuff like this to really care. But the point is, I can’t get mad at this ship either and I’m willing to read up on it in small doses.

Strawbana

I ship it

CUTENESS OVERLOAD

the sexiest pair

we need more of it

underrated

Sun Wukong, you magnificent monkey bastard! You always seem to brighten my day whenever I’m looking through critical discussions related to this show.

Much as I love BlackSun, I’m definietly curious to learn more about other ships involving my homeboy here. Solar Flare, I also like. But Sun/Ruby? Thank you sir, may I have another!

Ugh. Can’t believe I just quoted Animal House to describe my love for this painfully underrated ship. Somebody get me some soap...

Other than their VAs being married in real life, I like Strawbana/Red Sun the same reason as Nuts & Dolts with this being a ship that features two extremely upbeat characters finding love in one another with just how much they kick ass for the reasons of just being good people.

Kinda/sorta the only straight Ruby ship I’m into just because of how much they could rub off on one another, and how much I’d love to see them interact more in canon material. Not just the show but any other tie-in stuff.

Next time, we cover Weissu.

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spirit-of-the-void · 5 years

Text

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 30

Author’s notes: Let’s keep it going, kids! Gotta love these time jumps amiright

Chapter 30

~Four months later~

(Vergil POV)

To say the son of Sparda was growing tired of fighting was an understatement.

He didn’t quite know why he was still down in hell with Dante, battling each other and demons alike hour after hour, day by day. The repetition had long grown tedious, numbing even. But there he was, slashing at repulsive creatures with the Yamato until the ground ran red with their blood. He thought taking this time reflect would perhaps help settle his head and give himself the time to gather back into who he was before. Distancing, coping. Those memories hung over him every moment, and his concerns only continued when his actions didn’t help in the slightest bit. The repetition of fighting was no longer a distraction due to how easy and mindless it was, and that left him open to thinking of the very things he had stayed down in Hell to avoid.

Things like you. And Nero. And the destruction of Redgrave city.

To have a child of flesh and blood was still startling to him, unthinkable. And to make matters worse, his memory was spotty of the moment Nero was conceived to begin with--was it due to his time as Nelo Angelo that those memories were faint? He was certain it had to be the case, because his time in Fortuna was spotty at best, flickering with images that told him nothing of who the boy’s mother was. Regardless, Dante had insisted it was so, as much as that was worth. But there was no denying the Yamato hidden inside Nero’s arm, ripped off by Vergil himself. He could remember that moment well at least, seeing it in a peculiar vision now that he knew of who Nero was.

Was that guilt? Perhaps, if he took the time to actually analyze the emotion. Which he stubbornly refused to do so. Where Nero was concerned he was uncertain at best, and downright baffled at most--taking the time to pick apart what he was feeling or should be feeling was just not something within his realm of capabilities. He was no father, no parent, and it was far too late to even begin thinking of trying to be so. But the white-haired boy had made it a point to push the issue, even calling him father when they had clashed months earlier. Vergil was unsure how that made him feel as well, it felt neither wrong nor correct. And that all in itself was a nuisance probing his already scattered mind.

And you were a far bigger issue.

He had hoped taking the time to blow off some steam, ripping apart demons and working his body to the point of exhaustion would help him shake the emotions concerned with you. But as before, there was no such luck to be found. You were a cloud lingering in his head, fogging his senses and bringing an unbelievable sense of confusion and conflict. Maybe staying in hell would help muddy those memories, distancing him from them and making them seem less like his own?

No no, things were never that easy. You were ever present, the image of you staring at him with that expression of agony burned into his retinas. Even now, clashing swords with Dante for what had to be a hundredth time, Vergil was thinking about you--he could remember your taste on his tongue, the feeling of your hands stroking through his hair. His, or V’s? But V was him in a way, a part of him. And the more he tried to piece that together, the more blurred the disconnect became.

It was madness.

His focus waned again, feet stumbling to the side and giving Dante an opening to kick him back. Vergil let out a grunt, taking the blow to the chest and skidding into a kneeling position a few feet away. Damn it--again with this. Why wouldn’t his mind repair itself, let these things go? He spat blood out onto the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of the hand while meeting Dante’s exhausted gaze. Speaking of the annoying devil hunter, he hadn’t spoken a damn word about leaving in any of the days the spent fighting. Not a peep. He had taken fight after fight without complaint, aiding Vergil in the killing of demons with nothing but a smirk and the occasion joke and jibe. When was the last time Vergil spent so much time with his sibling? Surely back when they were kids, those memories or fighting, sparring, and playing seeming so foreign now.

His lack of complaint was baffling to the older male. Surely he was tiring of the fighting, of hell itself? Didn’t he have better things to do than sit there clashing swords for months at a time?

Dante let out a low, heavy sigh when Vergil stabbed the Yamato into the ground and sat back for another moment. A break of sorts, time for both of them to catch their breath. It was in moments like these that Vergil found his thoughts most muddled, flickering between memory after memory in an attempt to clean up the mess. Not like it was working, instead it was bringing forth new, lighter images to the surface. It was getting so bad now that the son of Sparda could directly recall the texture of your skin, how it felt to kiss you. And with those thoughts came emotions, ones that Vergil could not make heads or tales of. He worried about you--had Nero kept to his word, taking you to safety once he had left? Were you recovering from what happened in the Qliphoth?

Foolish. Foolish.

You deserve this, That voice in the back of his head hissed, growing louder with each passing day, If anyone deserves the title of fool, it is you. Go back to the human world and face what you have done to them, to her.

Vergil gritted his teeth, rubbing a hand over the back of his head and letting out a heavy sigh of annoyance. His head truly was a mess, filled with self-deprecating thoughts that refused to go away. In reality...he knew, deep down. Knew that staying in hell was his way of hiding, of running away from the situation waiting for him if he were to return. He refused to admit fear in regards to anything, but with this...the uncertainty was stifling, leaving him more anxious than he had felt in some time and hesitating in this position without moving forward. And that was not in his nature.

You are a fool. A fool. This is not about you, it’s about them! It’s--

“You’re gettin sloppy,” Dante clicked his tongue a few times, drawing Vergil out of his contemplation and making his grey eyes snap to attention. Dante was sprawled out on the ground, laying like he was in a bed at home without a care in the world, “You’ve lost the last three times we fought. Finally outta steam, you stubborn bastard?”

Vergil narrowed his eyes, letting out a snort of annoyance as he looked away from his brother, “Nonsense. I won at least one of those times, you’ve just gotten lucky.”

Damn him for being right. Vergil was getting sloppy in his distracted state, of that he was incredibly certain.

Dante laughed lightly, putting a hand to his unshaven face and rubbing it down to his chin with a groan, “Don’t you ever get tired of fighting, brother?” He tilted his head, glancing at Vergil with a searching gaze as he continued, “Four months down here, and you’re still chugging along. You look like shit.”

“Surely you jest,” Vergil scoffed, waving away his brothers words with a flick of his fingers. He refused to admit Dante was correct in any capacity, not in a million years “Are you in any position to tell me of how I appear? You’re repulsive.”

Dante rose a brow, lifting one of his arms and taking one disgusting, experimental sniff of his own armpit. Vergil resisted rolling his eyes, he really did, but to no avail. Especially when Dante scrunched up his face in disgust at what awaited his nostrils, letting out a little cough and immediately flopping the appendage back to the floor. Disgusting. He had always been that way, lacking in class and proper hygiene. Vergil could remember Dante playing in the mud when they were kids, bringing in filthy frogs to show their mother or handfuls of bugs. She hadn’t approved.

“Ya got me there,” Dante chortled in a strained tone, wincing a bit as he shifted again, “I definitely need a shower, but then again so do you. Got a whiff of you back there during our fight and hooo boy--you are ripe, buddy.”

On any normal day Vergil would have been aggravated by his words, tempted to unsheathe the Yamato and stab him for such a remark. But instead...he thought of you, of a moment shared that he didn’t recall before. The day was somehow clear to him, the image of you and himself walking through a sewer system below Redgrave. Your elbows were scraped, thigh highs torn in some places. We had fallen through the ground, had we not?

“I...It’s strange. I guess I just miss the warmth,” The memory flickered through his mind, showing you walking and playing with a strand of your hair while you spoke about why you were so fixated on taking a shower of your own, “Showers are very comforting--I like the feeling of lathering my hair and decompressing. I just...haven’t felt it in a while.”

Vergil felt his body stiffen, eyes drifting away from his brother again as he pushed the emotions back. That dull ache bloomed in his chest, hand reflexively lifting to rub at the spot as if it would somehow make it go away. There was no such success.

“...Perhaps.” He muttered, but completely refusing to confirm Dante’s claim in the same way he had. It would be more than degrading to smell himself.

Dante chuckled again, but fell quiet after that. Oddly enough, Vergil wished he would keep up his useless chatter. Anything was better than leaving his own mind to its devices, because they drifted back to you and his guilt over Nero without fail. Vergil himself was not good at coming up with discussions to keep with his sibling, and he certainly didn’t like to be the one to initiate them. If he had his way, these thoughts of his would be easily tamed and avoided, allowing him to move on without any complaint. Instead...it was under his skin, you were. And worse, bottling it up inside made him feel on edge, like a ticking bomb waiting to tick off. This was behold his comprehension skills, beyond anything he was used to.

If he was willing to be honest with himself, he might admit that he was...worried. About everything, edging toward being afraid to try and return. What would you look like now? Would there still be that hollow, agonized look in your eyes? Would Nero still gaze upon him with anger and hurt as well? Vergil didn’t want to think these things, they were driving him mad and making him irritable to boot. Too long in his life had he ignored his traumas, his haunting memories in an attempt to make himself numb to it all, cold. Unfeeling. And yet here he was, awash with uncertainties and whirling thoughts that seemingly didn’t belong to him. Or did they?

This is your punishment for what you have done.

“...So,” Dante’s quiet voice, sounding a lot more serious and uncharacteristic of him snapped Vergil to attention again. He turned back, seeing his younger sibling now sitting up and staring at him with steady, grayish-blue eyes. There was patience there mingling with concern, seeming far beyond Dante’s years as he asked his older twin, “When are you going to talk about it?”

Vergil felt his spine stiffen, knowing exactly what Dante was implying by those meaningful words alone. For a moment, disbelief passed through him, adding to the irritation as he held Dante’s gaze. There was no way he was that transparent, was there? He had kept his composure, fought and killed demons with skill and precision like always. There had been no indication that he was struggling other than the occasion slip up, but even then that could be contributed to exhaustion. But even that was a first for the surly man--he rarely tired, and even when he did it never tended to show or slow him down. There was a will inside of him, a need to keep going and pursue power and greater things.

Only now Vergil was feeling a bit...off. After fighting for four months it was to be expected, but this felt different from exhaustion. More like...well, he wasn’t sure what it was.

“There is nothing to talk about,” He quipped, brain shutting down any notion of discussing things so personal with his brother. The Yamato was back in his hand a moment later, fingers gripping the handle tightly as he went to rise to his feet, “If you want to babble on about things unimportant, that’s your choice.”

She isn’t unimportant! And neither is Nero!

Vergil gritted his teeth, putting a hand to the left side of his temple when a dull ache passed through. He felt at odds with his own head, emotions far too out of control and bouncing all over the place. Untethered, unsteady. This was not like him, but what could be done about it? Guilt, affections, worry...He had always tried to stifle such feelings before the spark could even grow, but now they were a raging inferno eclipsing everything else. Had splitting himself in two really effected him that much? There was no place for things for fear and uncertainty in the son of Sparda, he had always told himself that.

But...when did those things seem to stop mattering? He had changed.

Dante let out a light snort at his aggressive words, rolling his eyes and flopping back again, “Still too much of a coward to stand up and hear the music? Thought you had at least taken a little of that stick out of your ass.”

Vergil most certainly didn’t like being called a coward. Especially not by Dante.

His fingers twitched on the Yamato’s handle, sending a phantom blade shooting right at the prone man--which was easily deflected by him tiredly raising his own sword. Honestly Vergil would have mustered more of an attack, but...he was more exhausted than he cared to admit.

“You shouldn’t be so presumptuous, brother,” The word was spat mockingly, Vergil’s bad mood tripling as he glared at the younger of the two, “There is nothing to speak of, so drop the subject or--”

“Oh come off it, Vergil!” Dante cut him off, letting out an exhausted groan as he sat up again. He wasn’t glaring as his brother expected him to be, but somehow that steady look of understanding was even worse, “You’ve been getting more and more off since we came down here. How long are you going to keep running away, hiding in hell away from your problems? That’s all this is, isn’t it?” He gestured broadly around, taking in all the dead bodies of disintegrating demons and slice marks from the Yamato, “A distraction, and a shitty one at that. You just don’t know how to handle anything--just like when we were kids.”

He’s right. You are a coward.

That clicked Vergil’s anger back into overdrive, flipping himself up with the Yamato already raised to slash at his sibling lying on the floor. God damn it--how dare he look at him with those condescending eyes, calling out all the things holding him down? More than anything, the Sparda was furious that Dante had nailed all his emotions right on the head, forcing him to mentally address them when he was trying so hard not to. That coping mechanism kicked in, spurring him to attack to try and pull them back into the cycle, the one that kept him from plunging back into the memories weighing down his shoulders. The movement was so fast, precise. Prone one minute then standing over Dante the next, sword raised above his head to stab him with it.

But Dante didn’t even flinch, nor did he move from that spot. He simply stared up at Vergil with calm eyes, ringed with exhaustion as he said, “Go ahead. Do it, I’m done fighting with you--I’m god damn tired of enabling this bullshit.”

Vergil froze in that position, sword raised as he stared down at the grizzled man with a heavy scowl. How dare Dante, the crass, loud mouthed devil hunter, try to be the more reasonable of the two? It was far more annoying than anything Vergil could think of. To make matters worse, that hesitation extended to every part of him, drawing forth another memory of talking to you. It was consuming him now, these fragments you and his human counterpart had shared together all those months ago. It made him close his eyes, fingers gripping the sword ever tighter until his own knuckles cracked with the force of it.

It was a memory of sitting by you, staring out at a landscape of destruction and tragedy caused by his hands. Moments before, he had kissed you, tasting your plump lips for the first time as if you were water after days of thirst. You had looked so soft, so kind, more than someone like him had ever...No, he shook his head at that thought, confusion filling him to the brim of his being. It was both clear and muddled, like a high definition image viewed through TV static. The warmth of your hand squeezing his own brought forth that dull, ever-present ache in his chest again and brought forth a longing to repeat the action again and again. Why? Why was this happening?

“It’s healthy to feel emotions, and it’s healthy to acknowledge them.”

“Vergil?” Dante’s voice sounded worried now, sitting up again as he registered the conflicted expression on Vergil’s face. Damn it, and damn him. Damn everything.

The elder Sparda let out a slow breath out from his cheeks, lowering the sword as he leaned back and landed on his ass to try and gather himself again. Your words were like spurs in his heart, digging in and reminding him of things that he hadn’t necessarily learned. His human half had been far more honest with himself, and that trait seemed to keep trying to bubble up to the surface again. Because in the end, who was this vicious cycle helping? Certainly not he, wallowing in convoluted memories and emotions every waking moment. And it wasn’t aiding Dante, who was looking like he desperately needed food and a shower. Thoughts like those were the most confusing to handle--since when did he ever worry about Dante’s well-being?

Now, apparently.

Vergil would have thought that Urizen’s memories would have been the most loud, but he was gravely mistaken. In fact, the memories of erecting the Qliphoth and all that transpired were incredibly dim. All he knew was that, in the end, there was no victory to be found other than his two halfs coming together once more, and the devouring of the fruit. Why was this the case? How had his humanity become so strong, thriving so much until it became this loud in his consciousness?

It was because of you.

“What is happening to me, Dante?” Vergil rasped, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He could feel his sibling staring at him, but didn’t dare turn to meet his gaze, “I cannot shake these foreign memories, no matter what I do.”

Dante let out a light snort at his words, scooting closer so he could get a better look at Vergil’s face while he replied, “I would imagine so, they are your memories after all.”

That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear.

“They do not belong to me…!” Vergil snarled in response, running a hand raggedly through his hair and sending a few strands draping over his forehead, “I do not know this girl, she is a stranger. And yet…” He looked at his fingers, feeling a strange disconnect between what was seen and what was felt. He remembered tattoos lining his fingers, black and swirling, but they were now gone, “I have memories of her, things that I should not have. Things that are...intimate.”

How awkward to admit, but he didn’t dare elaborate on such memories. His brother didn’t need to know he remembered having sex with you, nor did he need to what extent of emotion that stirred. He was being torn apart by it, the image of you staring up at him with soft pleasure and adoration and the image of you staring down at him in complete and utter anguish. Both caused by his humanity, him in a way. But...he didn’t know what to feel about that.

Dante let out a low whistle, clicking his tongue as he replied, “Boy, your human half didn’t do things halfway, that’s for sure,” He patted Vergil on the shoulder, tone taking on a kinder edge as he added, “Best thing I can tell you is to man up and face these feelings, brother. They are yours, afterall.”

Vergil scowled at that, muttering so quietly he wasn’t sure if Dante would hear it, “Are they?”

They felt like his memories, but it was so hard to accept them considering how mixed his consciousness felt now. It wasn’t in his nature to seek affection, to care. His humanity had been vulnerable, weak, easily succumbing to your kindness and eagerness to protect him. Acknowledging that something like that existed inside of him was something that he refused to admit, despite everything that had happened. But...that desire was still there, to be held, to hold you, to be loved and protected. To love and protect.

He had spent so many long years tampering such a feeling down, burying it so far down that he was sure that he felt no such affections anymore. All unraveled by you and his human half, leaving him feeling disorienting in the middle of it all.

“Those are your memories, Vergil, whether you wanna admit it or not,” Dante continued, leaning his arms on his own knees and meeting his brother’s gaze, “That human half is a part of you, and by proxy is you. Everything he felt, you still feel, and it’s time to stop running away from that.”

Vergil fell silent, looking off into the landscape of hell and trying to calm his thundering pulse. Could he even do such a thing, face these emotions and decide what to do about them?

“Why don’t you give her a chance?” Dante suggested, scratching the back of his head and letting out a gust of air, “Hell, why not try in both cases to make amends--with her and Nero? You keep fighting this human half of yours, but if you just accepted it things might improve. Y/N is a sweet girl, and if she loved V as much as it felt like she did...well, why couldn’t she also love the man he came from?”

Because I don’t deserve her, I never did.

Vergil bit down on the thought before it passed beyond his lips, eyes closing again with a furrowed brow. To seek you out felt selfish, especially after how much you had been hurt by all that transpired. And that was such a bizarre thing to feel--that intense want to put your well-being above his own, to distance himself to save you from more pain while also craving you like air and water. In the end...V was who you had fallen for, not him. He wasn’t like his human half, and after all the death he had cause and the type of person he was...why would he ever put your through loving something like him?

“I doubt the world works so easily,” He replied to Dante tiredly, shaking his head and pushing the loose hairs back in one fell stroke, “As for Nero, he has made his opinions of me quite clear, has he not?”

“Yeah?” Dante replied in annoyance, narrowing his eyes on the surly man with a disbelieving look, “You tried to disregard his feelings and settled on a fight as your first hello to your goddamn son. Maybe--now hear me out, this may be a doozy--maybe you should try actually fucking talking to the kid about why you weren’t in his life?”

Why oh why was Dante turning into the voice of reason in all of this? One would think Vergil as the younger sibling in this scenario.

He let out another puff of air, admitting with several layers of gruff reluctance, “...Perhaps. But does it really matter? I am no father, and he has grown up for years without me perfectly fine,” He sheathed the Yamato once more, scowling lightly as he added, “It seems like a pointless waste of time.”

“Well you could start by apologizing for ripping off his arm.” Dante suggested tersely, brows arching toward his hairline. There was an implied ending to his sentence, one that suggested his twin had no choice in the matter on this.

“...” Vergil didn’t respond, that annoying guilt prickling back up like thorns around his subconscious. There was no argument he should have made to excuse such a thing, but his mind still tried. He didn’t know who Nero was at the time, but even then would it have mattered? Desperation fueled the cracking, crumbling Sparda at the time, so he doubted that there would have been an ounce of hesitation even then. There would have been no other way to save himself from death, even if it had a heavy price. But...that didn’t stop his illogical guilt over it.

Dante let out another sigh at his stubborn refusal to reply, tone taking on a lower quality as he added, “Hell, why didn’t you just come to Devil May Cry?” He muttered, sounding a bit gruff and unhappy as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t have asked questions, could have found a better way to help you that didn’t involve putting Nero through that shit.”

Well now...that was certainly not what Vergil expected. He stared forward, trying to keep a composed expression while he thought over what Dante said, not quite sure what to make of the question. At the time, he never contemplated even thinking about his brother’s aid--why? Because he resented him with every part of his body, resented how their mother loved him more, resenting how Dante seemed to win no matter how hard he tried. He who scoffed in the face of their Father’s demonic power, instead embracing his weaker human half. It had seemed so shameful at the time, pointless. Pride kept him from asking for his brother’s aid.

“You know why,” He replied simply in return, turning his cold eyes back to meet Dante’s, “Asking for your help was never an option. Had I showed up at your door would you have truly offered me your hand? Or would you have blindly attacked me, as you did in the Qliphoth?”

“I would have fucking helped you!” Dante snapped, uncharacteristic anger entering his tone as he pulled himself to his feet. He then glared down his brother, letting out an annoyed growl as he continued, “You think after everything that happened, I wanted to watch my goddamn brother die again?”

Vergil blinked, taken aback by Dante’s fierce words as he held his gaze. Had he truly been affected by Vergil’s death, even after all the surly male had done to him? All the fighting, the harsh words, the conflict...There was no brotherly love to be found, he knew that much. But Dante, as always, shocked him.

“The reason I kicked your ass then,” Dante muttered after that brief pause, turning away as he registered the surprise in his brother’s expression. He looked tired, and a bit sad if Vergil was willing to see it, “Is because you grew a tree in the middle of a city in an attempt to gain more power. Do you have any idea how many people died? Families, innocent people now husks in the wind because of a fruit.”

That made reality set in even more, that blade plunged into his chest deeper and twisted until he would bleed from it. The Qliphoth was another thing he was loath to admit troubled him indeed. Again, it wasn’t his plan in the beginning to even do such a thing, but Urizen had gotten his own plans. But that creature existed inside of him, as did that greed and need for power. The pride, the rage, the disgust he felt for humanity as a whole. That was part of who he was as well, even in these times where his mind was scrambled and trying to balance the level of humanity he was feeling. If you had not come along, would Urizen have been the stronger factor? Would he be even more cruel and unfeeling for all he had done?

To contemplate it was a strange thing.

“I know what happened,” He replied flatly to Dante, tone low and bitter as he pulled himself to his feet as well, “And I won’t try to excuse what has transpired in the city. There are amends to be made, and the gravity of my choices is my burden to bear. I need not reminding.”

“Yeah you’re really tryin’ to make amends hiding down here in hell,” Dante snorted, heavy sarcasm in his tone as he braced his back and stretched. A groan rumbled from his chest, the sound of his spine settling make Vergil wince in disgust, “How about we finally blow this joint? I’m starving and I doubt you wanna deal with how smelly I am.”

That was less of a concern compared to what was waiting for him. Vergil paused, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the only item he had left of you--a single glowing, blue-filled vial of whale oil. He was surprised such a thing had transferred over when he turned back, but...it had. What a curious thing, to be holding something that came from a world he had never seen. The older twin remembered the moment you gave it to him, eyes filled with tears and worry before you went after Dante. A way to find him, a way to sense his location. He doubted you would be able to sense it all the way in hell, but it had remained on his person the whole time. Did you remember it? Could you even begin to think he had it?

That had been the first time you told him that you loved him.

Return it to her. Return. To. Her.

Would he be able to look you in the eyes without these stubborn emotions overtaking him? That fear was ever present, but was drowned out by that annoying voice in his head. More than anything, he was hesitant to see how this all had affected you, the damage done. That dull ache formed in his chest at the notion of you losing your smile, that kindness that drove you because of what he had done. And that was so uncharacteristic of the Sparda that he almost denied Dante’s request then and there.

But...He gripped the vial in his palm, closing his eyes and releasing a slow breath from his cheeks. There was only so long he could hide from everything, and more than anything...He wanted to see you. That voice in his head demanded it, the loneliness left over from you not being there so heavy he felt like drowning. That dependency was one he didn’t want, but there was nothing more to be done. He had his time to fight, to contemplate, and be found wanting. Any more time taken would simply be a foolish waste.

“Then let us depart,” He finally replied to Dante, unsheathing the Yamato with intentions to cut open a portal after months and months of holding back, “I’d hate to stand between you and actually growing into normal hygiene habits.”

Dante opening laughed at that, a smirk tilting his lips as he tried to defend himself, “Hey now! I have perfect hygiene! It’s hard to maintain with bills to pay.��

That made Vergil scoff, scrunching up his nose in disgust as he muttered, “Figures you would never learn how to balance a checkbook.”

“Like you’re any better!” There was definitely teasing in his tone, Dante clapping his brother a bit too hard on the back as he huffed, “How the hell would you know anything about managing money? Ever thought of becoming a business partner?”

Was that Dante’s offhand way of inviting Vergil to work at Devil May Cry? If Vergil was younger and more stubborn, he would have stabbed Dante just at the notion of working with him. Instead he tucked the vial of whale oil back into his jacket, rolling his eyes and shrugging off his brother’s hand. Things certainly had changed, hadn’t they? To even contemplate such a thing was so unthinkable he could have laughed. Yet...he was contemplating it. Where else could he go after this? There was no planning, no other goals to reach now that he was healthy and whole once more. All that remained was a mess, and no way to clean it.

“Maybe if you could learn to shut up and listen when I ask it of you,” He replied shortly, whacking Dante’s wrist with the Yamato’s sheath and earning a light yelp, “I will ponder the offer.”

That earned him a hefty snort, one that was quickly followed up by a snarky, “Bold of you to assume I’m giving you a choice in the matter. Can’t let your crusty ass run around growing more trees.”

As if he would. Vergil had no desire to deal with something like the Qliphoth again, it had caused far more issues than it was worth. If anything the four months in hell had taught him, it was perhaps less was more in his future endeavors for power. His human half, the demonic half...they were both the proof laid out at his feet that a choice had been made that wasn’t in his favor. And that carelessness had caused a ripple effect that had killed more people than he thought possible.

No...there would be no repeating.

He lifted the Yamato, steeling his resolve with intentions to cut through and make a portal back to the human world for them to cross through. He decided that if need be he could busy himself with working at Devil May Cry, easing himself back into a normal life cycle as a means of keeping that distance from you and Nero. This was still a step forward, but a calculated one. A careful one, he hoped. As it stands you were now living in Fortuna with Nero and his fiance, so the son of Sparda saw no need of seeking you out if it was something you did not want.

But that thought caused an avalanche of consequences.

A wave of nausea hit him in the next instant, arm holding the Yamato faltering and dropping the blade with a loud clang. Vergil stared at his now empty hand, breathes coming short and confused as he felt an intangible sense of wrongness spread through his entire form. What? His vision swayed, the landscape of hell tilting until Vergil realized that he was no longer able to stand up. Unsteady, unbalanced, light-headed. What the hell was happening to him? He had never felt such a sensation before, unable to register where it was coming from as he fell to what knee and had to fight gagging and a torrent of sickness.

“Vergil…!” Dante noticed right as he fell, rushing over and putting a hand to his back as he exclaimed in annoyance, “Hey! What’s the matter with you?!”

He couldn’t even answer. His vision was fading, body tilting to the side against his will and leaving Dante to grab him and try to hold him steady. The elder twin could hear him yelling, but there was no energy to answer. This was not exhaustion, this was something more. An urgency, like fire in his lungs clawing to get out and pounding on his skull with fists. To say Vergil was unnerved, confused, and shocked was an understatement. He who was a poised, pillar of control and discipline forced to collapse and have no control of his body? It wasn’t right, he had made yet another mistake that cost him his stability. Only this time, he knew what was causing it.

That voice came back in his head as his consciousness faded out, somehow louder than Dante yelling in his ear.

For every moment you hurt her, is another moment I destroy you.

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Tagged: @silentwhispofhope @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress @shaelin444

#devil may cry v #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dmc v #v dmc #V x Reader #v x self insert #spirit writes fanfic #fanfic #chapter 30 #ebony and ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 30 #vergil #dante

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suney · 5 years

Note

Ripules n 12 cuz shy losers?

12 - things you said when you thought i was asleep [1/5] next →

Amanda is standing at her workbench heaving on the end of a crowbar the first time it happens.

“Just give me a second! I’m nearly- there!”

“What the hell are you going on about now?” A barrister pokes her nose into the workshop, observing the unfolding events from over her glasses. “I know you like your own company and tend to have these ‘stern’ discussions with yourself, but yelling at no one is actually pretty fucking weird, Amy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Ripley fires at her with a dangerous glance, wiping away horrific spatters of tin scented fluid, it’s tang reminiscent of aluminum on fillings. “Also, I was yelling at you for being an impatient ass on my comms.”

“Mm, no, I wasn’t.”

“Who else could it have been, Nina?”

She hums, squinting down at the screen, an insistent banner flashing white and grey along the top.

Eat… 18:30.

“My God you’re an idiot, Ripley. That’s not a message, it’s an alarm.”

“What? I don’t have any alarms, not for this time of day.” Amanda brushes the device off the table and into her bag on the floor. “And name calling, really?”

“I was joking.” She holds her shoulder, crossing her ankles to lean fully on the other woman. “But since you’re already distracted, come and sit down. I bought lunch.” She gently touches the cold wrist of a synthetic, laying motionless on the table. “If that’s alright by you, Samuels? Because I swear, even you won’t be able to make me give her mouth to mouth if she faints again.”

“He won’t be able to make you do anything until he’s fixed, Taylor.” The engineer rolls her eyes and follows the heavenly smell of curry wafting from the crib room.

“You really think you can?”

“I have to…”

The next time it happens she had fallen asleep using a bicep of the deactivated- the temporarily dead- android as a pillow. Her chair up as high as it will go and his hand in her own.

Sleep… 23:59.

“W’the fuck is going on?” Amanda mumbles into the synthetic’s side, lazing her arms over his chest to look at the screen. She wonders if she had installed a dodgy app, or if there had been a bug in the last batch of updates.

She yawns, swipes at the alert, and decides it probably had the right idea anyway.

Goodnight.

“Goodnight… I guess.”

Over time, the alarms had become progressively more specific. Mentioning conversations she’d had in private, even alone. Offering her advice, greeting her, wishing she had a fabulous day or night. Shockingly even to her, she never thought it was creepy, going back through her downloads to determine they had in fact been from the phone, to the phone. It was sweet. Familiar in the way it was worded like an old friend.

“Hey.” Taylor, as had become routine, appears at her door for visit one out of three today. “I bought coffee.”

“Oh my God, you read my mind.”

“I do, everyday, at exactly seven in the morning.”

“Yeah and what time do you call this?” Amanda gratefully trades the cup for a pair of soggy tin-snips and takes a drink, her fluid covered hands sticking to the paper as they swap back. Her friend holding it by the lid at an arms length.

“Late. Late is what I make of it. I’ve been at work since five absolutely snowed in with paperwork. So, fend for yourself for lunch? And don’t stay up all night, I know you’re excited, but get some rest and do it properly. Please. You only get-”

“One shot.” Amanda nods, pulling at a creamy tube full of metallics. “I know.”

Her phone blares once, and then again.

“Are you still getting those?” Nina asks indifferently, unable to counteract the hand over her upper stomach attempting to hold her bagel down as out of the chest comes what looks like an organ, attached at the base by colour coded wires.

“Yah."

“Aren’t you going to check it?”

It rings one more time in a different tone and Amanda supposes she should. The advice it offered had sometimes been handy, telling her the microwave had gone off, or the ice had melted in her bourbon and coke. This, however, was eerie.

Pay attention.

Please don’t cut the red wire.

Do not cut the red wire.

It vibrates a final time.

S-Exec Repair Manual, p 138: preventative measures for fuel cell ignition.

“Holy fuck.” Amanda flips a page on the next table over, quoting from it. “‘Disconnect from power source before removing fuel cell… red wire last… prone to violent combustion…’ Holy fuck."

“Someone’s definitely watching over you.” Nina breathes a sigh of relief.

“I might- yeah, I might sit down for my coffee today.”

“Good idea. I’ll leave you to it.”

Amanda nods her goodbye with a quick hug and regards the synthetic at a safe distance. It isn’t until hours later that she moves, or even speaks again, shocked into silence by the fact she could have killed her friend and less importantly, lost an arm in doing so.

Your drink is definitely cold. It has been for six hours.

She glances at the screen as it wobbles on her jogging knee. “So, I’ve been thinking,” she starts out of nowhere, “if I didn’t know any better, which I do, I’d agree with Nina and say you’re looking out for me. Which is ridiculous because all the evidence points to you just being a device, but I think somebody is behind this. Whatever this is."

I am here.

“Yeah, I feel that. Maybe I’m going insane, because that’s kinda likely… but I think you want something from me too.”

What might that be?

“I don’t know. I don’t even know who you are, let alone what you could possibly be after.”

It would be nice if you stayed intact.

Amanda huffs her way over to disconnect the trickle charger from the terminals in Samuels’ chest. “A real Samaritan.”

I am being honest. I want you safe. I…

“You what?"

Nothing.

“Okay buddy, maybe it’s best to pump the breaks before you freak me out. Don’t get me wrong, you’re cool, whoever you are, and if you ever show yourself we can go for a beer or something. But I’m kind of… committed elsewhere.”

Committed?

“Yeah.”

Oh.

“Problem?”

Not at all. I'm… happy. For you. Pause. Anyone I might know of?

“Probably not, we haven’t been on-site very long.”

Nina? A familiar sass bleeds through this notification that Amanda can almost hear.

“What? Fuck no. I care about her too, but it’s definitely someone else.” She wipes hydraulic fluid from her hands on an old rag. An old rag that happened to be a shred of Samuels’ favourite semi-melted shirt. He looks disgusted by her actions even in his sleep. “Do- do you really think I’d be investing so much time and effort into fixing this synthetic if I didn’t- care about him? A lot?”

Yes, you would. Because you are kind.

Amanda fights to urge to inform the stranger that she’d had to kill people before. Murder at point blank range. Leave some to die. Use human life as distraction. Instead, she turns up the radio.

“Blue Öyster Cult. Burning for you. What a solid song.” She looks over the slightly charred synthetic before her. “I’m not being at all ironic.”

Home in the valley, home in the city;

Home isn’t pretty, ain’t no home for me;

“You know it?”

Obviously. The text is no different than usual but rings like a pompous English accent. It is a classic, I rather like it. And Bat Out Of Hell.

“Oh, my friend. You are after my heart.”

I hope so…

“Keep hoping.” She laughs to the ceiling, tapping a hex key to the palm of her hand. “When I finally get this guy up we’re going to Earth and we’re just- just fucking hitting the road. Getting outta Dodge, or y’know. Luna. We can sleep in shitty motels and in the back of the car and I can pick up work in garages as we go. And I know I’m going to absolutely torture him with this kinda music, he’ll hate it, but I’ll find ways to make it up to him.”

I do not think he’d hate that at all. I think he’d love it, actually.

“I don’t think he loves anything. I don’t know if he can. But here’s hoping he’ll be fond enough of me to stick around after he’s back in one piece, and out of The Company’s grubby little hands.” She realizes the irony of her words, hesitating to brush his hair back with grease stained nails. “If he doesn’t it’ll be enough knowing he’s out there somewhere. Alive, even though I miss him. Fuck, I miss him.”

The device falls silent as she presses her lips to his forehead.

“Goodnight, Samuels. Keep ‘em crossed for tomorrow. It’s the big day.”

Her comms device vibrates in her pocket as she flops down onto the cribroom couch. Her eyelids droop, brain shutting down for the day. She decides she might just check it in the morning.

(Goodnight, Amy. I miss you too.)

#ripuels ask fic

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samsterham · 4 years

Text

The Fuckening, Entry # 1

Despite the novel covid-19 being around for a pretty hot minute now, I have only been self-quarantined about 6 days. There have been several confirmed cases in my county, and today the county had it’s first death.

If it’s not apparent by the title, I’ve decided to officially from here on out refer to this entire debacle as The Fuckening. I will swear. A lot.

I figure it might be somehow lucrative to record my experiences throughout the pandemic, at least as it is pertinent to my country & area. Aside from broader, more public events, it might be interesting to someday look back on my day to day & how we dealt & felt & what we did. I should have been keeping a diary of my life anyway & had intended to despite never making it a priority. Now is as good a time as any.

Anyhow, I anticipate this being a rather disjointed project, variable in moods, topics, formats, etc. & rife with grammatical errors. I haven’t decided how revealing of my identity & location I would like to be, I suppose that’s something I’ll decide as I go. All I’ll reveal for the moment is I live in the U.S. in Pennsylvania.

Recapping what I can right now:

I’m in about day 6 of self-quarantine. All schools have cancelled regular classes and have gone exclusively online, as has happened pretty much everywhere else. My community college also followed suit along with probably every college & university at this point. I’ve had a little over a week off for faculty & staff to prepare for the shift. Class resumes this upcoming wednesday online for the rest of the semester. Curious to how they’re going to structure & grade our biology lab credits.

Bars & restaurants have been state-mandated to shut down except for take-out. Now the liquor stores have shut down as well. Somehow the beer distributor down the street is still open however...

Me & K (boyfriend) haven’t gone nuts with preparations, but we did have 1 significant shopping trip before the state officially began recommending social distancing. We got enough non-perishables for several weeks. We’ve made a couple mini trips for things like milk & fresh veggies.

I also have a few immunocompromised friends who I’ve gone shopping for. I expect to continue doing so as needed. One such friend has a bitch of a rare disease which is frankly on the verge of killing her if she sneezes or coughs too hard. There is so, so much more to it than that, than I dare go into here for privacy reasons but I have spent the last month as one of her actual medical advocates. She is partly the reason I would like to focus my education and eventual clinical research on rare diseases such as hers. Anyhow, despite it being flat out unsafe, she was discharged from the hospital yesterday as my city prepares to get slammed with covid-19 cases.

Both my cats got a stomach bug just 2 days into self-quarantine. It began with Crowley puking, then what looked like bloody emesis & trip to the emergency vet. Sent home with stomach meds & instructions for supportive care before jumping into more than basic testing. He was fine within 36 hours, just in time for Aziraphale to become a little vom-bomb. This lasted for 3 days, with many debates as to when we should finally get her poor little fuzz butt medical attention. She thankfully healed on her own, just as I was about to break down & take her to the vet.

Not to make light of the fact that they were sick, but Zira’s throw-up noise is THE FUNNIEST sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It begins with that usual choppy but also deep guttural *hork hork hork* followed by a very abrupt & very loud scream “rrRAAHH!” as things made their way up & out. I couldn’t help but kinda lose my shit as I pet her & cleaned up the mess. I’m probably going to hell for this.

Me & K have enjoyed spending more time together during quarantine. We have only had 3 friends over since, all being of our regular weekly crew of Sarah, Greg, & Amanda, & all of who are otherwise self-quarantined. Sarah & Amanda came over last Saturday, Sarah made “Quarantinis,” a goddamn delicious cocktail of vodka, lemon, honey, & crystalized ginger. Us girls & K got quaran-trashed, ate dinner together, played Cards Against Humanity, & watched Waking Ned Devine.

We have been making the FUCK outta some food. This is easily the healthiest we’ve eaten in a long time. Thank God we both can cook.

The weather has been fairly forgiving & the two of us have made efforts to get outside as much as possible while it’s nice. K works from home with some good flexibility & I was fired about a month before corona shit hit the fan. We’re enjoying the local parklette & the humongous cemetery in walking distance from us.

Yesterday was mostly blustery & rainy, save for a 2 hour break in the weather where it was sunny and around 70 degrees. We trekked through said cemetery. As we were on our way out, we rounded the bend of one of the long paths, along the side of a large grassy hill. From that initial perspective of the hill, there was a large pile of indiscernible objects about halfway up the hill. As we came around, we noticed the pile was next to a grave very freshly covered in dirt. Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the “pile” was actually a man wrapped in blankets, with one arm stretched over the dirt of the grave. On the road at the bottom of the hill was what I assumed to be his car. I don’t know who he was, I don’t know who he lost, but they’re burned into my memory forever. It was one of those sights that breaks your entire heart. I cried a little & held K’s hand a little tighter as we made our way toward the gate. K kissed the top of my head & gave me a loving squeeze.

I didn’t get fired over anything serious; my chronic migraines plus a personal failure to obtain intermittent FMLA in a timely manner resulted in termination. My bosses didn’t want to let me go, but you can only fight HR of a corporate health system so much. Oh well. I wasn’t happy there anymore anyway. After 3 years I was bored, having trained up as much as possible without my degree. Some toxic personalities made their way onto our floor staff in the last year which made some shifts absolute hell despite my efforts to avoid them & remain utterly professional. Aside from running out of money, I’ve been incredibly relaxed since being let go. I’ve even lost 4 pounds in the last month. My hair is currently a weird ginger-pink, the result of a failed self bleach job, but it’s not entirely embarrassing so I’m going to let it recover before I try it again & go teal.

I never got around to watching Breaking Bad when it was popular, but last night I finally saw the first episode. K has seen it before, it’s one of his favorite tv shows & he’s ecstatic to watch it together. One episode legit got me hooked already. I know the premise of the show & I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

The political fuckery around this has been.... ugh. I wanted to say “staggeringly defunct” but what else is there to be expected from this current administration? I have designed most of my tumblr to be apolitical but that will change with these specific entries. I’m politically outspoken on Facebook & Twitter & I wanted one or two platforms that could just be fun and neutral. My current politics are very leftist, a head-spinning 180 degree turn from my upbringing & early voting habits. The last four years have sent me purposefully, intentionally & determinedly headlong into the progressive movement, feminism, and hunger for democratic socialism. The only conservative thing left about me is my stubborn remaining infatuation with firearms & gratitude for the 2A. Counterintuitively I’m very pro-sensible gun control, but having the discussion with either side of the issue mostly leaves me wanting to knock heads together.

I digress, the administration’s response to the pandemic has been unsurprisingly subpar, yet somehow not as awful as I expected. Trump went from “not a big deal” & “liberal media hoax” to “oh shit, I actually better get my shit together for this” real quick. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an election year or if there’s actually a shred of competency that’s been hiding under the comb-over but I’ll take what we can get from him, including that $1000 check. Getting unemployment has been a bitch. None of this however, changes the fact that Republicans have known about the crisis since December & instead of preparing the public, decided insider trading was a better idea. This doesn’t change the fact that the DOJ is trying to invoke indefinite detention as a “crisis response” and the only thing standing in the way are House Democrats. And it doesn’t change the fact that our hospital system is overloaded & underfunded, and the Republican controlled government would still rather bail out large corporations as we plunge into an inevitable recession.

I’ve spent too much energy fighting ignorant shit sticks on the internet over all this, including people I know in real life. I gotta keep remembering that all I can do is my best, that you can’t change the world but you can make a dent. On that note, I finally introduced K to Danny DeVito’s cinematic masterpiece Death To Smoochy.

Today I finished reading Darker Than Amber by John D. MacDonald. Quick, fun read, definitely a product of it's time.

That’s all I have in me for today. My neck hurts. Sleep sweet and WASH YOUR FILTHY PAWS.

#covid19 #covid_19 #corona virus #coronavirus #quarantine #social distancing #wash your damn hands #diary #journal #the fuckening #the fuckening diary #death to smoochy #pandemic

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starburd · 7 years

Text

UT Universes Memories

Universe One: Canon Verse

First Timeline: True Pacifist. I was a ghost within Frisk’s body who had very very limited control and ultimately narrated for the most part. There were a couple accidental monster deaths, due to my own anxiety and PTSD causing me to lash out through Frisk, but they reloaded to the Save point and corrected it. Approx 2-3 weeks after getting to the surface I decided I wanted to be a part of this, and ended up waking up on the flower bed in the Ruins. Don’t remember if Flowey was there.

Lived with Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, and Frisk for... maybe a month?

We DID find Sans’s workroom--I managed to get Sans’s BS time traveler secret codeword after telling Frisk “wtf he’s being vague go back so we can get him before he runs off”, but we didn’t know yet how much of the time travel stuff he’d know, yet.

After some time on the surface, Frisk and I decided together to RESET and try to see if we missed some way to save Asriel.

Second Timeline: True Pacifist. Frisk and I did everything we could to try to save Asriel, but ultimately couldn’t find anything new. When we visited Sans’s workroom and found the photo of everybody, Frisk and I freaked out a little. When we got to the surface and I got a body again, I told Sans about the timelines, and that we probably wouldn’t have done that if we’d known things would get left behind and stuff.

We told Sans we’d probably go back one more time, but we wanted to warn him in advance, and he made me promise to tell him in the next timeline what we were doing.

Third Timeline: True Pacifist + Floweypot. When we got to the “date” with Sans at Grillby’s, we told Sans about the Resets, and that we’d promised to tell him. He didn’t like it very much and was pretty wary but the fact we told him what was going on meant he didn’t constantly give us the side-eye. This was meant to be the last Reset.

When we got to the Surface, and I got my body in the Ruins, Frisk showed up very shortly after, to bring Flowey with us. But when Flowey got to the Surface with us, he tried to kill Frisk or Sans. Can’t remember which. I threw myself in the way and uh. I was pretty stupidly smug about that. Beat u Flowey. I WAS PRETTY PISSED AFTER THAT

Sans and Frisk made a very quick decision for Frisk to Reset.

Fourth Timeline: True Pacifist. BOY WAS I STEAMING WHEN WE WOKE UP. I no longer considered Flowey and Asriel the same person at all and I made Frisk agree that we’d stop trying after this.

When I woke up in the flower bed, I threatened the SHIT outta Flowey and scared him into staying in the Underground.

We reached the Surface and planned to stay there.

Universe Two: Canon Verse

Timeline One: Geno Route. I woke up again as a ghost in a person and it WAS Frisk, but it was a different Frisk, and they ignored me completely when I suggested sparing. They killed everybody and BOY I was pretty upset about it all and disassociating for the most part. The higher their LOVE got, they less grasp they had on their SOUL, so when we got to the Sans fight, and they went for the final blow, I took over the entire body before they could cheat. But I couldn’t take over the SOUL and do Resets yet.

Sans was confused as hell when I started talking to the body like it wasn’t mine and was just ????? and eventually at least let me get a pause to try to explain wtf was going on. I also told him who I was and he at least recognized I was the first Human and wasn’t Cool with this. I told him I couldn’t control the soul and Reset yet, and I was sorry but. It was gonna take a couple more deaths.

He got the gist. He liked it about as much I did (not at all), but he took note of everything we discussed, and I told him what I planned to do. I was going to make an offer the human couldn’t refuse.

When we reloaded, I did the final blows to so the human couldn’t have the satisfaction. I destroyed the world and told them I’d only remake it if they gave me their soul. When they finally did, I remade the world.

Timeline Two: Soulless True Pacifist. I was in full control of the body and soul and acted like the Frisk I knew from Universe One. The human was kind of present, but very angry and very shoved in the background.

Boy did it hurt when Asriel was like “you aren’t Chara. They’ve been gone a long time” but. I dealt.

Sans still had the notes from the Judgement Hall fight and made sure it was me early on. I let him know the human wasn’t in control. We were chill.

I tried talking to the human on the Surface, when we were in bed one night. They agreed to pay more attention and try to be better. I Reset.

Timeline Three: Soulless True Pacifist. We split the control for the most part, but I always snatched it back and Reloaded if they did a violence. THEY WERE A WORK IN PROGRESS.

They related to someone a lot. Not sure who. Flowey?

Timeline Four? True Pacifist. I let them take control. We finally came to an agreement.

Universe Three: Underfell

Timeline One: True Pacifist. There weren’t any flowers when Frisk fell, even though this Universe’s branch from Canon was after Asriel and I died. Because there weren’t any flowers, Frisk ended up mostly dead, and I was actually in control of the body. I stayed in character tho, up until we got to Snowdin. Frisk spent the entire route healing, and instead of Saves the soul (which was mostly mine) would Refuse.

When we got to Snowdin it took a bit of time to get Papyrus to listen. Sans wasn’t scared of him but he didn’t like fighting him, and Papyrus only really stopped fighting when he brought our HP to 0 and the soul Refused. There wasn’t a point then. We spent a LOT of time in Snowdin and lived with the brothers for a while and I spoke to Papyrus a lot without revealing who I was.

Before we got the Asgore I talked to Flowey a lot about what we needed to do, what the plan of action would be. When we GOT to Asgore I was supposed to keep him distracted until Flowey got the souls, but I LOST my TEMPER and revealed who I was and yelled at Asgore a LOT. Because Asriel and I didn’t die for this? And Asriel never wanted this? And you forgot me in your vow to kill humans? Thanks. But when everybody else showed up and overhead me being pissy, it was a messy reunion.

Flowey took everybody’s souls and I told him to tear the universe apart, where Gaster was waiting. Because of the nature of the void (?) I got him to help me pull the LOVE out of everybody’s Souls, because this was a pretty shitty burden monsters were NEVER supposed to deal with, and it was my fault. I took the pieces of the souls where the LOVE was and put it in my own soul cos I’d learned to deal with it from the previous universe.

After this happened, we completed the timeline to get everyone to the Surface.

Timeline Two: True Pacifist. With everything corrected, the flowers were back in the Ruins and Frisk could be in charge again. The timeline was nearly identical to the canon, except the aesthetics were still red, black, and gold. Turns out that had very little to do with the monster violence. Frisk and I completed the run.

Universes ????-????

Uncertain how many other universes were visited, though I know I visited at least a few where the skelebros were abused, and showed them how to cope. At least one where versions of Gaster hadn’t fallen yet. Had to deal with his LOVE too.

At least one universe where I stayed with the skelebros as a parental figure until they were grown.

Never did an Underswap, and don’t know if I saw Frisk again.

Continued to collect monsters’ LOVE so they could at least feel guilt for the deaths they caused.

Had to deal with Flowey TOO many times.

Judgement

Took place somewhat in the void. Was judged by the souls of the six fallen humans, because I had been the cause of their being killed, and Sans from the original universe. Theeeey didn’t like me that much, but Sans convinced them I was deserving of..... something. Nobody told me wtf was going on.

He appealed to their own SOUL traits and shown that I had acted in all of those traits over the multiverse. They finally agreed and he was like “cool. then we’re in agreement?” “yeah” and STILL nobody would tell me what was going on.

when i bugged him right at the end, he told me “first you gotta get those soul bits cleaned off. they’re no use to anybody all covered in LOVE.” and CONTINUED to be vague when he knocked me off the podium.

I fell somewhere. looked like the flowerbed? again, void-y. had to deal with.... myself, duh. had to deal with my self loathing and the fact I DESERVED to be happy.

Final Universe: Return to Original Canon

Timeline: True Pacifist, final. Woke up at the beginning of the timeline with Frisk. I thought it was a new one and acted like I would with a new one but it was my original Frisk! They had reset after I disappeared. Barely any time had passed for them.

I didn’t tell them all of the universe I’d seen yet. I was trying to figure out what was going on and what Sans had meant about the soul pieces. We continued the timeline as normal

Right at the end, while Asriel was hugging Frisk, I figured it out and was SO EXCITED and I couldn’t show it. I told Frisk, after the fight, to go back to the flower bed (they’d done so in the previous timelines and knew what was there). When they did, I forced myself to get my body back there and then with Frisk and Asriel watching.

All of the soul pieces I gathered that had had LOVE cleansed from them were enough to make a whole Soul which I gave to Asriel so he could maintain his form and join us on the surface.

And that’s all of them! This doesn’t include stuff we did on the Surface after the runs, OR my time with Gaster before I met Frisk.

#a music box begins to play #A LOT OF STUFF HERE #this is MOST of the memories that have to deal with universe jumping

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