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shijiujun · 4 years

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“you know you’re singing to your headphones out loud, right” au for moshang plz sqh singing modern songs that mbj doesn't know and being hella confused 🥺

Featuring karaoke-loving Shang Qinghua who gets a bit too drunk at a Cang Qiong mountain gathering, and he goes all out.

Or when Mobei Jun wonders why Shang Qinghua is singing about another man called Liang Shan Bo.

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Sometimes, he thinks about his old life before he ever had the misfortune of landing in a world of his own creation, with an annoying gaming AI system of sorts hounding his every move (in the beginning) or turning up at the most inopportune times just when he thinks it’s finally gone and left him alone (more recently).

Shang Qinghua remembers not having many friends when he was still Shang Qinghua, when ‘向天打飞机 Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ was still merely his writing Weibo account moniker and when he had millions of people looking up to him for his crucial contributions in writing this amazing story about his son Luo Binghe and the way he overcame all odds to become a success with a harem of gorgeous women at his feet (damn you, Peerless Cucumber bro!).

Back in those days, he lived off cup noodles and instant coffee. If he didn’t have to leave the house, Shang Qinghua would simply curl up in front of his laptop, either writing for his novel or watching shows (clears his throat) - actual shows! Chinese period dramas were his favourite, where a skilled and intelligent consort in the harem would outwit all the other women to be with her one true love, the Emperor, who falls irrevocably in love with her.

And when he got bored, he switched from the laptop to his television to engage in his second most favourite hobby - Chinese karaoke. Going out to a karaoke bar would require some level of socializing, and also a few friends so he gets more bang out of his buck from what he pays for the room, but at home?

With advanced technology and a tiny ass microphone in either shining gold or silver, Shang Qinghua’s home entertainment system was his very own personal karaoke room, His tiny mic even had that echo-y effect on.

Shang Qinghua has a thing for classic Chinese songs - ‘The New Butterfly Dream’, ‘Liang Shan Bo and Juliet’, The Moon Represents My Heart‘ - and contemporary karaoke must-haves, like Wang Fei. For an embarrassing few days, the Chinese version of Baby Shark was a veritable earworm as well.

After transmigrating into his own story set in ancient times, where he lives without technology, Shang Qinghua would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the Internet. Laptops would be incredibly handy, and so would switches for lights, definitely indoor plumbing for toilets, and induction stoves. Phones too, that would be nice, rather than having to ‘send word’ with letters.

Of course, there is no karaoke bar or machine for him.

Not all is bad though. At least he transmigrated to Shang Qinghua in this world as a baby, so it’s not as if he was surviving on Internet and technology one day and left to do everything manually the next day since someone was always taking care of him. Peerless Cucumber bro, of course, wasn’t as lucky, but the man has definitely taken to this world (and his son!!) like a fish to water.

And as for himself, Shang Qinghua does not need to envy Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe either, because somehow, he has gotten the man of his dreams too, even if said man was a little cruel and rude to him in the beginning.

He has the love of his life (coughs coughs) and they’re stuck in this world for the rest of his life. What more is there to want? Not to mention how his cup of instant noodles betrayed him at the last moment, resulting in his death! It is slightly safer, ironically, to be in this world instead.

All is good except... well...

===

Shen Qingqiu marvels at the sight before him, torn between wanting to step in to stop Shang Qinghua, or watch this farce unfold.

He sometimes forgets where he, or where Shang Qinghua, who has been in this world longer than he, came from. They don’t always talk about the past when they meet, and aside from the occasional meetups, Shen Yuan is a part of him that doesn’t surface, not when he is with Luo Binghe.

Shang Qinghua, on the other hand, grew up here, and aside from referring to Shen Qingqiu by his Weibo account name, he seems otherwise well-adjusted, no hint of modern online writer Shang Qinghua in sight. It doesn’t feel as if he misses their original world either.

This evening, however, memories of modern times slap him in the face, quite literally.

“Shizun!” Luo Binghe calls, frantic, tugging him back into his embrace out of Shang Qinghua’s way. Once Shen Qingqiu is safe in his arms, his eyes narrow at the bumbling, drunk idiot causing a scene in the dinner hall, “Shang Qinghua...”

Shang Qinghua stops where he is, and then before any one can stop him, he picks up a pair of chopsticks, brings it to his mouth, and begins bellowing his way through-

-Jay Chou’s Hair Like Snow.

“Shizun, are you alright?” Luo Binghe fusses, his hands coming up to cup Shen Qingqiu’s face when his Shizun doesn’t so much as respond to him. “Were you hurt? Did he hurt you? How’re you feeling? We’ll go back home now-”

“What is he singing?” Qi Qingqi frowns in disgust.

They all wince when Shang Qinghua attempts to hit a high note, but fails miserably.

Fuck me, Shen Qingqiu thinks, his eyes impossibly wide, who knew Airplane bro was such a karaoke fanatic?

“... maybe he is possessed by a malevolent spirit? Or perhaps this is an unidentified curse?” asks Ming Fan.

“Or is this some new form of cultivation?” asks Ning Yingying, curious.

Yue Qingyuan, seated at the front of the dining hall, cannot help but be concerned for him as well. “Shall we call Mu-shidi to take a look at him-”

They’ve gathered for their annual meeting - a condition that Yue Qingyuan has set in place a few years ago after Luo Binghe ‘stole’ (married!) him away from Cang Qiong Peak - and although Shang Qinghua said he didn’t mind that Mobei Jun was unable to accompany him today, he spent most of the dinner drinking alcohol while in a melancholic state instead.

Who knew that Shang Qinghua was a singing drunk?!

Hence their current predicament.

At the Sect Master’s words, Shang Qinghua suddenly turns around and looks at Shen Qingqiu. HIccuping twice, he then beams, “Cucumber-”

Shen Qingqiu has never moved that fast in his life. Within a fraction of a second, he has his hand pressed over Shang Qinghua’s mouth, holding onto him from the back.

“Cucumber?” everyone choruses in confusion.

“I believe your Shang-shishu has had a little too much to drink,” Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, nodding at everyone else. “We should... send him back to Mobei. Isn’t that right, Binghe?”

His disciple, his husband, still has on an affronted, murderous look for how Shang Qinghua almost brained Shen Qingqiu with his flailing arms in his drunken fit. The moment Shen Qingqiu asks, however, his expression morphs into something so soft and full of love that everyone who sees it chokes.

“Of course,” Luo Binghe smiles, devotion apparent in his eyes. “Anything Shizun wants.”

===

The words that are tumbling out of Shang Qinghua’s mouth are entirely incomprehensible, and so are the tunes he’s humming into his ear.

Mobei Jun thought he had gotten used to Shang Qinghua’s eccentric mannerisms, and also thought he knew everything about his husband, so many years later. Shang Qinghua is mumbling Chinese alright, but none of the characters put together make any sense.

Who is Liang Shan Bo? And who the hell is Juliet?!

His mood taking a turn for the worse, Mobei Jun hoists Shang Qinghua up further on his back.

After getting so drunk, the idiot had the gall to demand for a piggy-back from the throne room to their bedroom. Mobei Jun has never once suffered such indignity in his years of living. A bridal carry? Of course, anytime. A piggy-back? As if he was some beast to be tamed?

Well this definitely has to be a first.

While he was stewing in his thoughts, Shang Qinghua switches from that song to another one, and a stream of ‘du du du lu du lu’ emerges from his lips... AND something about... a sha yu? What the hell is that?!

Shang Qinghua lazily lifts his right hand as they approach their room, balls it into a fist and puts it to his mouth, as if he’s holding something, and whatever monstrosity Shang Qinghua is singing, his voice gets even louder.

Mobei Jun tosses Shang Qinghua off his back unceremoniously and onto the soft bed. Interrupted, Shang Qinghua blinks, his vision blurry, and is about to catch his breath and start singing again when his husband climbs in after him. Trapping Shang Qinghua with his entire weight, Mobei Jun seals his lips with a kiss.

“... My king...” Shang Qinghua murmurs in a daze, when Mobei Jun pulls back a few minutes later, his breaths coming out as short, harsh pants. “My king...”

“That’s right,” he says with a glower. “I’m your Da Wang, your husband.”

Mobei Jun doesn’t know who Liang Shan Bo is, but he’s going to make sure no other man’s name ever leaves Shang Qinghua’s lips again when they’re together.

And when his husband finally sobers up, he’s going to have a lot to answer for.

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Songs Mentioned (YouTube Links in Comments):

The New Butterfly Dream 新鸳鸯蝴蝶梦－ A Chinese classic, sung by Huang An but done beautifully by legendary god of singing Fei Yu Qing and singing partner for the song A Yun Ga

Liang Shan Bo and Juliet 梁山伯与朱丽叶－ A Taiwanese contemporary classic of sorts by Genie Zhuo, most Chinese millennials would definitely have sang this at a karaoke once in their lives - Song is inspired by Liang Shan Bo and Zhu Ying Tai, the Chinese version of Romeo and Juliet to some extent - They both die in the end and become butterflies, so they’re also called the Butterfly Lovers.

The Moon Represents My Heart 月亮代表我的心－ ANOTHER CLASSIC CLASSIC!!!

Baby Shark (Chi. Ver) － ˆThe baby shark hype did move to China, and it’s pretty hilarious LMAO and in Chinese, shark is 鲨鱼 (sha yu) but I’m assuming that in this world, there isn’t a shark kind of animal of sorts? So Mobei Jun and everyone else except SQQ wouldn’t know what a shark is or looks like?!

Hair Like Snow 发如雪－ By Jay Chou, another classic that all Chinese millennials would have sang in a karaoke bar

Wang Fei 王妃－ Jam Hsiao’s version is known best, and it’s pretty epic, not that anyone can reach any of the high notes in the chorus, but does that stop us from trying?!! Hell no!!!

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Notes: My first Moshang?!! That didn’t really have a lot of Moshang time?! But thanks anon, hope this sort of works?!

#svsss #scumbag villain #穿书自救指南 #渣反派自救系统 #scumbag system #moshang #bingqiu #mobei jun #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #everyone else is somewhere there except my bb lqg #and anw karaoke sqh!!!!

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davidfarland · 3 years

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I Get By With a Little Help

Very often, I get asked, “What can I do to support my child/spouse/family member as a writer?” Of course, each writer’s needs are different, but here are some things you can do to help the writers in your life.

1. Give Them Time to Write

When I was young and newly married, I used to sit down to write, and my wife would immediately think that “since you’re not doing anything, let’s have a conversation.” That’s a frequent problem for those who work from home. It might not look like I’m busy, but sometimes I really am busy.

In order to write, I have to get into what I call my “writer’s trance,” a state where I’m vividly dreaming about my world (with my right brain) while composing and analyzing my prose (with my left brain). So I have to work with full mental capacity, and it can take about ½ of an hour to get into that state deeply enough to get some good work done. So, if I’m in the groove, don’t bother me. I need time to focus completely on my work.

However, you might be interested to know that both halves of the brain are not always awake and functioning clearly. I do my best work in the mornings now. (When I was young, I sometimes worked best at night.) For some reason, the right side of the brain, the creative side, shuts down at about mid-day and takes a nap. I literally can’t compose most of the time at mid-day. At about two in the afternoon, my writing skills tank, so that’s a good time to talk to me.

The point is, you need to learn the biorhythms of your pet writer, and try to allow that person to be productive.

2. Let Your Writer Out of The Cage

Very often, we think of writing as a completely solitary art form, and it can be. If I’m deep at work on a novel, I will often try to isolate myself. I don’t talk, go to parties, or go to movies. I’ve known some writers who literally become hermits.

But recognize that writing isn’t just about composing works. Writers need to get out, do research, study, and mingle. In other words, part of the pre-composition phase of writing requires that your writer get out once in awhile.

Sometimes that means that I do pretty exotic things. In researching novels, I’ve stayed out all night in the bayous of Louisiana, castle ruins in England, and walked the Great Wall of China. In fact, I got stuck on a novel years ago, and I told my wife, “You know, if I’m going to get past this part of the story, I really need to go to Shanghai and work on a screenplay with some other fantasy writers.” A few weeks later, that opportunity came up, and my wife said, “Go to Shanghai for three months.” It turned out to be a great opportunity.

As far as research opportunities go, sometimes I just go to the library or bookstore and browse. I might pick up books on writing, costuming, or life in the Middle Ages. But at other times I may want to take a writing course, which may require travel. My wife has sometimes questioned why I would want to take a course when I already know so much about writing, but I like to hear the latest theories and discoveries of those who apply original thinking to the craft.

In the same way, writers often get fired-up by attending writing conventions or conferences. Going to them allows your writer to meet like-minded people and explore new ideas about how to run their career. So make sure that your writer attends.

3. Think About Your Writer’s Physical Health

Writers tend to get chunky from sitting in their chairs all day. They scarf down cola in order to stay awake. Their health habits are often terrible. Make sure that you take your writer out for walks on a regular basis. Force him or her to help around the house, or take them to the gym. After all, you’ll want the writer to support you in your old age.

4. Let Your Writer Make Friends

Writing can be a very lonely profession. I write lots of dialogue in my tales, but sometimes I get tired of talking only to myself. Very often, writers will find that writers’ groups help give them a connection to the world, or that a particular writer friend 60 miles away is helpful to talk to. Don’t be jealous if you’re writer makes friends.

5. Keep Your Writer Comfortable

This might sound silly, but having a good writing space—a decent room, a comfortable chair, and a computer equal to the task—is all pretty essential. When I was young, I used to work in a dusty basement. My allergies made me sick all of the time. I used to have a chair that made my back ache. I got rid of it. I still have problems. I don’t have a little table next to my chair to hold my diet drinks. Someday, someday. . . .

Not all writers need the same thing. I used to like to listen to music when I write, but over the years, I’ve changed and now find it distracting. So I don’t need a stereo in the room like I once did, and if I do want a little mood music, I put in my earbuds. Some writers like inspiring vistas. I tend to look inward, not outward.

The point is, some people think that you should have to suffer for your art, but I don’t get any more work done by suffering for it. When I was in China, my back got so messed up from bad chairs that I had to walk with a cane. Did I get more work done? No. Did I get better work done? Not at all. I was in constant agony, and as a result, I’m sure that my work suffered in quality.

6. Your Writer is Insane

Remember that your writer spends a great deal of time in a dream world, talking to imaginary people, visiting places that don’t exist. Shakespeare often lamented about his poor mental health, wondering if he was a genius or a nut. He was obviously both. I once heard a psychologist say that “most writers are provably borderline schizophrenics.” I know that I am. I’m a science fiction writer, and being spacey is a job hazard.

If you’re writer is very lucky, he’ll also be paranoid, too. It proved a great boon to Lord Byron, Philip K. Dick, and Theodore Roethke.

So help ease your writer through his or her mental problems.

7. The Sex Lives of Writers

…is best not discussed in detail. It can be creative, shocking, wondrous. Of course with dull and unimaginative writers, it’s no better than sex with an accountant.

Beyond that, the care and feeding of writers is pretty mundane, much like the care and feeding of humans in general. Your writer will need to be washed, groomed, and pampered–just like any other exotic pet.

Happy Writing!

David Farland

On Saturday September 11th, M. A. Rothman will be speaking about “Making a List Run” – Hitting the bestseller lists as an Indie. Live and past record calls available at www.apex-writers.com!

#writing #writers #writing tips and tricks #writing coach #writing mentor #writing lessons #writing advice #writing help #author #editor #creative writing #writerblr #writeblr #nanowrimo

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dappercritter · 3 years

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Once More Unto the Bre-er, Black, I Guess:

Quick Thoughts on that Pacific Rim Anime

Having given into my curiosity, I have decided to start watching Pacific Rim: The Black.

While, I am still skeptical of the significantly darker tone and how much farther they’ll take it before it becomes unwatchable, I am pleasantly surprised that that’s not all there is to it. The series is going to some bleak places, make no mistake, and this will no doubt turn off those who want lighter and more uplifting fare from their Pacific Rim content. But I was pleasantly surprised to see that the series has a good dose of heart and wit—with colour to boot! So far the series feels like an enjoyable blend of the pathos and heart of the first movie, with the escalated stakes and saturated colour and sense of humour of the sequel.

In a way it feels like a welcome change of pace and a course correction of sorts: It learns from the mistakes of Uprising while building on the foundation the original set in place.

The characters and story already have me engaged. Right from the get-go, you get a sense of how dire this fight is, being plunged right into the action at its most intense. You feel the stakes even before anything that serious has happened yet. The Travis family already shows a healthy balance of resolve, charm, and angst that even at it’s earliest, you can’t help but care for these folks. Hayley already strikes me as my favourite for her spunk and her soft-heartedness. Taylor is a bit rougher around the edges and can feel bit like a jerk at times, but he’s got just as much of a heart, and you quickly learn why it’s hardened. Loa is already stealing the show, as you can imagine a snarky mecha AI would. The first training scene gets special mention just for how hilariously inspired it feels.

When the tragedy does strike—and believe me, friends, it strikes fast here—you will be caught off-guard. I won’t ruin the surprise because I don’t want to overhype it or spoil it for anyone who wants to watch it too, but in short, you are lulled in a sense of secure tranquility. You get the feeling that things aren’t so bad where the story starts off. You get to know the other characters just a little bit, but you get a real sense of connection between everyone. Then just as when things seem to be getting fun, things take a drastically dark turn. There is a shocking loss, that while sterile in some ways, makes it clear right off the bat, that no one is safe in this world and it sticks.

Ordinarily, I’m not one for tragedies, but after Polygon’s last giant monster-based sci-fi tragedy, the infamous Godzilla Earth anime trilogy, it feels like a drastic even welcome improvement. In Gen Urobochi’s controversial high sci-fi take on the King of the Monsters, you got a barebones story where everything was either inferred, vague, or explained in an almost unbearable level of technical detail. You never got to see things at their best, or got an idea of what there was to care about or fight for. There was virtually no sense of connection between anyone, or a feeling that this universe was lived in. The characters had no real personality, defined almost entirely by their archetypes and positions, and some looked almost indistinguishable from one another. Here, the writing, art direction, and character design, all come together to create an undeniable sense of life. That’s right: not only is this an improvement over a Pacific Rim movie, but it’s an improvement over three whole Godzilla movies from the same studio. (Although having a Western writing team who is more accustomed to character tics and interactions probably helped in that regard.)

That said, the art and animation do leave some things to be desired. Again, while Polygon is clearly improving in some areas, this is pretty standard fare for them. While the character designs are nicely made and the cinematography easy on the eyes, with some shots looking beautifully rendered that I mistook a CG character for a 2D one at least twice, there are still some framerate and composition problems that stick out like sore monster thumbs. While only momentary, I did notice that sometimes the framerates for character movement would jump from smooth for a shot or two and then return back to Polygon’s normal stiff one immediately after, and while the backgrounds are beautiful sometimes it easier to tell there are CG characters walking on 2D pictures than others. Especially when it looks like the they are literally walking on a flat service at an angle.

Moreover, while the kaiju and jaeger design continue to impress in Pacific Rim fashion, they do feel like they suffer from similar problems as Uprising had. The jaegers you see in the opening and the main jaeger, Atlas Destroyer included, continue the trend of smoother and more vibrantly coloured mechas in the vein of Striker Eureka and G Danger/Avenger than the more characterized, robotic designs of the original, and if not for Atlas’s striking colour scheme and unique status as an unarmed training jaeger, probably would not stand out from any of the others. The kaiju are all looking good—and come from rifts that open on the mainland rather than the ocean this time—with distinctive new outlines and even new species for some added peril, but they do lack the monstrous alien aesthetic of the original movie’s monsters in some places, but not enough so to bother you. Although you will be wondering when the Precursors (or whoever made them, because Boy, does this show raise some questions fast) thought straight-up giant shrink-wrapped Dobermans were they way to go when it came to picking off humans, or when they decided to experiment with their colour palette. Most jarringly though, while the show does it’s best to regain that sense of weight and scale Jaegers had in the original film, they still feel lighter and faster like in Uprising, but with Polygon’s suddenly fluid framerate and stiffer range of motion, it might just stick out more here.

The music is alright. I’m not a fan of the subdued opening title music. I get it supposed to set the mood for the dire and dramatic tone and while it does, it also feels strangely too serious for a show from a franchise with as much punch as Pacific Rim. The main titles themselves are alright too, but they’re nothing too special. There’s some cool imagery and the stills of kaiju fighting jaegers remind me of the opening and end credits of the first movie, but some of looks less rendered than other parts and a lot of it feels just bland. (In short, my thoughts have improved since I first saw it, but not by much.) The series soundtrack itself is fine—it has a somewhat similar feel to the films’ scores but it’s also has some stock cues sprinkled throughout. So not much to talk about at the moment. The end theme is pretty good, since it reminds me the most of the original movie’s main theme. Hopefully we’ll get more of that.

I think my biggest gripe is one that simply cannot be overcome. The name: Why is it just “The Black”? Race-related jokes and unfortunate implications aside, it is just dumb. Bland. Uninspired. It reeks of trying too hard to seem nuanced and dark, but it just makes sound like it will be generic grimdark pretentiousness. Which is especially damaging when that is clearly not the case here. Even in the story, it makes no sense. From what I can tell about the plot and world so far, there was literally nothing stopping them from calling it “The Blackout”, which would have just been so much more appropriate. And don’t tell me “Pacific Rim: The Blackout,” wouldn’t sound even cooler.

(Or perhaps “The Mucky-Muck,” but maybe that’s just my Tenacious D fan-brain speaking.)

TLDR; the show definitely has it’s flaws and I’m concerned how far they’ll take the darkness with the series, but it’s pleasantly surprised me in a lot of ways. I look forward to seeing where it goes.

#pacific rim #pacific rim anime #pacific rim the black #pacific rim loa #hayley travis #taylor travis #atlas destroyer #kaiju #jaeger #mecha #monsters #anime #netflix #ramblings of the critter

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fast-food-fish · 3 years

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Supernatural, Brain Rot and Why I Just Can’t Get into it Right Now

Honestly, this isn’t what I intended my first post to be, but then something unfortunate happened.

This doesn’t actually start on November 5th. The origins of this post go all the way back to last April when I was heavily considering watching Roswell New Mexico against my best judgement. It’s actually quite ironic that that’s what caused me to get to where I am now, in the exact same place just with a different show. Basically what happened was last April a very polarizing? Offensive? Bad? (all of the above) Episode of Roswell New Mexico came out (you know the one). I followed a blog, then November 5th happened and they decided to start rewatching Supernatural and post about it. Now my brain is rotten.

I have a very underwhelming relationship with Supernatural. Originally I told myself I would never watch it. Mostly because of the queerbaiting. I was worried that I would be too attached to the relationship and it would never go anywhere, but it also isn’t something I would watch normally anyways. Now, and especially when I was younger, I watched a lot of teen dramas and that just isn’t what Supernatural is. But I decided to watch it for some reason and I figured that because I already knew Dean and Cas would never get together I didn’t have to worry about becoming invested in their relationship. I was wrong.

I only watched two seasons, and I don’t remember why I stopped, but obviously I never saw Cas and therefore never had the chance to become invested. After that I just wrote Supernatural off as being a bad show, until (and I know how insane this makes me sound) I watched like three days worth of CSI, which I would not ever recommend doing. It quite literally melted my brain. I’m sure that it was actually inevitable, and the real reasons I started actually wanting to watch Supernatural came later, but, now I’m invested; just not in the actual show, but the version that everyone on here talks about, the secret version that’s actually good. I became invested in Supernatural through posts analyzing elements of the show that I don’t think were even intended to really mean anything. But what really gets me, what really rots my brain is what it could’ve been. And I think that’s a relatively universal feeling. I see post after post analyzing every aspect of the show and like I know it’s not good, most of the people posting and reading said posts know it’s not good so what’s the point? Why this show?

It’s easy to just write all of it off as a severe case of brain rot, which is initially what I did for myself but I think it goes deeper than that. Now what initially got me interested in Supernatural wasn’t November 5th or even really Destiel at all, I mean like it was but it also wasn’t. What really happened that made me want to actually watch Supernatural was that I finally saw its potential. As I said before, I wrote the show off as bad, I never thought about what could make it good. And now this also ties into the final part of the title, the issue with Supernatural having potential is that I’m going to think about that all the time. I read this post and like I can’t get into it. Like seriously I can’t allow myself to think about what Supernatural on HBO would even be like because it would fully consume me. I think about that post alone like at least once an hour and it kills me every time. And there are so many other things like it, so many parts of the show that indicate there being something more, so many layers to every element of a scene, whether it was intentional or not. There’s so much to look at and read and there’s so much that could be done with these characters that just wasn’t.

I like to think there’s like three different versions of the show, the version that the writers wrote, the version that they accidentally wrote (ft jacting joices), and the version that fans have made. And like having actually looked into it now I see what makes Supernatural so appealing, I understand why people project onto Dean, I even project onto Dean. A lot of the things he goes through I have also gone through, just without all the monsters and shit obviously. I know what it’s like to raise your sibling and feel responsible for them and even if that isn’t something that everyone in the fandom has gone through there are so many other aspects of him to relate to. His repression caused by his trauma, his awful relationship with his father. His belief that he ruins everything he touches, that he is a bad person who can’t stop others from suffering. And that’s just with Dean alone and like I’m sure there’s more for him, my very limited knowledge of his arc comes from things my sister has told me and things I’ve read in posts. And I really don’t even think I could fully get into Castiel, like the idea of an angel who falls in love with a man is such a good concept, like just the fact that he defied his orders for Dean and like the line “the very touch of you corrupts,” it kills me. I don’t know what to do with it. Like the show has so much potential and that’s what kills me and that’s why I can’t get into it.

Like in all honesty Supernatural doesn’t so much interest me but perplex me. It’s like an experiment gone so completely wrong. And I apologize that a lot of these thoughts are half baked, as stated in the title I just can’t get into it right now. Prior to this I haven’t allowed myself to fully put time into thinking about Supernatural because I know it could consume me, but the more stuff I read and watched the more inevitable that actually felt. It really was only a matter of time before the brain rot kicked in.

#please feel free to add on to this and tell my why you like supernatural #what makes you so invested in the characters #or like send me some analysis of the show #i love reading long posts about it like it's all just so fascinating to me #as someone who's just starting to watch the show now #but also thank you to anyone who took the time to read this #i really appreciate it #supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #my writing #long post

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akumageist · 4 years

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I would die for Hitori Uzune. RIP to Kazuaki, but I’m different.

The Hatoful fandom consists of 13 people and a paperclip. It always has. Unfortunately, it probably always will. Where this is cause for some perks, it’s also some of its faults. In example, it’s still an anime game, made by a Japanese woman, and attracts weebs. Weebs tend to like to think of characters 2-Dimensionally, breaking the character down to what they think is their core personality traits. Hitori is no stranger to this, and is beaten down into this heartless, manipulative, selfish bastard. But I believe Moa is saying “anyone, even the best of us, is capable of becoming a monster if driven to it.” Let’s roll.

2162. Hitori was born into a world of war and hate, plopped into an orphanage at just 2 years old. This can be found in Moa’s canon spin-off manga, where Hitori at about ten years old is caring for the other war orphans along with the other older birds. Luckily for him, he was a genius. He was able to go out and get jobs tutoring birds and support his rag-tag family at his young age.

With that, we know Hitori was not originally cold and heartless, despite how the world may have birthed him. Especially when Nageki arrived frail and sickly. Hitori and the other birds were happy to put in overtime in an attempt to pay for the poor dove’s medications, even in his protest.

Then, 2180 happened. Imagine what sort of toll that would take on Hitori. he was absent. He was at work, unaware of the jeopardy that befell his family. What kind of horrible, mind-rattling survivors guilt must rack this bird’s brain, knowing he wasn’t there as his family was massacred one by one?

“What did we do? We had nothing. Our parents and homes had already been stolen by the humans. All we had left were each other.”

We can gather from this same scene Hitori blames himself for not being there. For not being able to protect his family, or even Nageki. Even though had he been there, he would have died alongside everybirdie else, and left Nageki to succumb to his illness alone. Something of this magnitude would create anxieties and trauma unfathomable to those who did not deal with it.

In Hitori, this manifested as full-blown helicopter mom. He can’t help but think of every little nit-pick detail over Nageki, terrified one feather out of place will kill him. The fandom is good about this side of his character! And of course, so is Moa. This may be the Summer Vacation Drama CD: Hitori The Worrywart (which takes place in MIRROR AU), but I love it’s portrayal of the anxious quail.

Hitori continued to care and ache over Nageki’s declining health. He was desperate. Begging doctors, even though deep in his little quail brain he knew Nageki was a lost cause, and that he was dying. But he couldn’t think of a life without Nageki, and did all in his power to try and keep the bird as well as he could. We can see a great example of this love in words you might not think of.

“How about this? From now on, ‘I’m fine’ is not allowed.”

I’ve always imagined Hitori getting mildly heated at Nageki in this conversation.The quail is on his last strands of stability, and the dove he cares endlessly for is trying to hide the very thing he ails himself over. The genuinity in his words shines through- telling Nageki he’d rather hear he’s bad and hurting.

So, in this desperation, Hitori carted Nageki off to some strange doctor in some strange prestigious school. And how couldn’t he? A doctor who claimed to know of the virus eating away at Nageki’s life, and how to cure it. Hitori’s beacon of hope in a sea of darkness. The only bird in the entire universe he had left to love, the one he had arguably always favored and adored, was dying. He would do anything in his power to keep the one thing he loved alive, no matter the irrationality or cost. No matter the very dying bird’s own lips saying “I… don’t want to go.”

Whether or not you ship these birds, I firmly believe Hitori is in love with Nageki in a romantic sense.

“I can no longer love another creature // I think we meant more to each other than anybirdie else in the world... // The love I felt soured into resentment // I should remember the beautiful face I knew, not… a photo covered in scribbles”

Not to mention admitting he can’t bear to live without the dove in BBL. And, in his route, Hiyoko goes as far as to refer to this bird as a female, which means he’s speaking so fondly she’s assuming it was a lover, and therefore a woman. Hitori’s stopped any sort of love at the idea he can only love Nageki post-mortem. That is canon. And well… that’s not very brotherly, no matter how good of a relationship you may have with your sibling (I speak from experience).

Okay, okay, this persuasive essay is NOT for convincing you of this ship, that is another essay for another time. I’ve only mentioned this opinion because I need you to understand his irrationality for the one thing he has left, and the fragility of it. And why it might drive anybirdie to… Hitori-level madness. Moving on.

2183. A mere 3 years after Hitori had lost the majority of his family to human terrorists. Nageki sends a coded letter, and… we can see Hitori’s anxieties outright.

“It’s happening again. Nageki needs me, and I’m not there.”

This is… a very powerful line in the game. We’re seeing just how vulnerable Hitori truly is. This is a traumatized individual in a panic attack- realizing the love of his goddamn life is once again faced with something horrible, and Hitori is once again absent from the scene.

And just like that, he’s gone.

The only thing. The only one Hitori had left in life to love. To live for. Taken from him without so much as a second chance. This is painful to write. This part of Hatoful is, without a doubt, the most agonizing. I know how it is to lose something so dear and feel as though maybe it’s not worth going on without them.

This is the peak of Moa’s tragedy writing ability (and yes, I’m including Holiday Star). But this is my point, is it not? Though his kanji may be “sun bird”, the actual word for his name “Hitori” quite literally means one, alone, solitary. He is now all alone in the universe, no family left. How can anybirdie even remotely remain in charge of their faculties (as Sakuya would put it) by now? You wouldn’t.

Hitori is now a husk of his former self. Anything he’s ever cared for is gone, he has nothing left to live for. He goes- my favorite coined term for him- absolutely batshit. He gets what we call “trauma-induced psychosis”, and begins to hallucinate very vividly, a form that he refers to as “Nageki”. We all know him of course, as Shadow. Shadow, from the little information we’re able to gather from BBL, is tormenting Hitori ruthlessly.

Shadow is easily misunderstood, because Moa made him fathomable, so the reader was able to understand exactly what was happening. What had become of Hitori Uzune. Shadow in all his simplicity- is Hitori. It is an introjection of Nageki, manifested to validate Hitori in his self-hatred. Don’t you get it? He hates himself just as much as you hate him!

Anything Hitori thinks of himself, Shadow is there to back up. He’s taunting him day in and day out, reminding him that he killed Nageki, and every ounce of Nageki’s suffering life was the fruit of Hitori’s inability to protect him. But again, it’s his own brain, telling him exactly what he wants to hear. What he truly believes. Telling himself what he’s done, and how he deserves this. ...And to seek revenge.

Hitori lost his mind. He had nothing else to lose, after all. He became obsessed with Nageki even moreso than he was in life, because there was no level-headed dove to calm him and tell him to stop worrying so much, or keep him at least reasonably held together by simply being there.

He listened to his psychosis, and when he made a friend (Moa gives evidence Hitori and Kazuaki were friends prior to Hitori’s ill-intentions), his psychosis got in the way of that, too. As he travelled down this relationship (which Moa herself says is pretty much romantic), we can assume he realized just how unable to love he was. He had Kazuaki around because, let’s face it. He wanted someone like Nageki who was incompetent so he could nurture and care for them. And for a while, it worked. But it didn’t. Hitori didn’t love Kazuaki. He couldn’t. He was too busy looking for Nageki.

So, you’re reading this in english. You speak english. At least a little, right? So maybe you played the english (and localized) version of the game. Well then you may not know the following. Please pay attention! This gets a bit rocky, and a bit more “Hitori...!”.

In the English version, Hitori disguised as Kazuaki is “tired”. In the Japanese version, he’s “sleepy” or “dreamy”. I’d describe him as ditsy, for sure. He kind of acts like an airhead who knows absolutely nothing, and his students don’t take him seriously. In the Hatomame Sweet Blend Drama CD, there is a track that follows Kazuaki on a little adventure of his narcolepsy, and going to Shuu for help.

In and out of comatose, Hitori, as himself, is there in his dreams as a separate bird.

“This bird with a face I had never seen spoke to me in a voice I had never heard, and this is what he said.”

“Nanaki-sensei” is clearly denying his own identity.

“I’ll sleep, just a little, and then leave… good… night…”

“But sleeping is my job… You still have a little longer. Tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”

This is dream Hitori telling himself that he has to continue his alias until his revenge is fulfilled. The quail that was once Hitori must remain dormant until he is reunited with Nageki again, and can be happy again. As a metaphor for depression… don’t you feel like you’re a shell of your former self?

So, going off this information… I believe Hitori has repressed himself. This is due to my own knowledge on psychology but-- Hitori doesn’t want to be Hitori anymore. It’s too hard. Hitori the war orphan. Hitori the lone survivor. Hitori the murderer and identity thief. It’s him not wanting to deal with his trauma in a healthy way, and instead locking it up and becoming somebirdie new and undamaged.

He killed Hitori.

This falls into the other delusion- that Nageki is somehow not completely dead and gone and ash- but still trapped, somehow, somewhere, and Hitori needs to find and get him. To kill Isa and the researchers who “killed” Nageki, and bring “Nageki” home. Whatever he believes Nageki is. In BBL, we see this quite literally varies! He tried to cut Ryouta open and steal his liver!

“Sir, Nageki would have never wanted this…!”

There is no difference between a serial killer and someone in a court room screaming for the serial killer to be murdered in turn. That mourning mother is then one in the same with that killer, is she not? She sees him, and wants him to die. She wants him to die and suffer. She believes that will bring her a sense of justice. Even though she knows it will not return her son to her. Hitori, is that mourning mother. He sees Isa, and all he can see is the man who murdered his dove.

I know the biggest aspect as to why the fandom hates Hitori is the sole factor that Kazuaki is #relatable. He’s a depressed college student who thinks he’s better off dead. Then, Hitori tricks him. But you’re not reading Kazuaki right. It’s okay, he’s easy to misread from Holiday Star’s plotline.

Holiday Star was written with Kazuaki as the villain, do you forget? A grey villain as well, but a villain nonetheless. He told his tragic sob story death in such a way, you can’t help but to cry. He’s the victim! I’m not saying he’s not. But he was written specifically to be pitied in Holiday Star, and as you continue on, you begin to see he’s actually just anti-self help. He doesn’t want to face his fears. He doesn’t want to leave his safe egg and take the risk he should have.

Kazuaki is meant to be pitied, yes, but just on the brink of annoying with his helplessness and self-deprecation. He’s, forgive me, a “sad sack of shit” who does nothing to help himself. Don’t come after me for being “ableist” or whatever- Moa literally wrote him this way.

This is also depicted in “Kazuaki-kun’s Book”. Now, this book takes place in the MIRROR AU, but it tells of how Kazuaki met Hitori. Moa starts the manga off by explaining Kazuaki had a great chickhood, a healthy life, and an easy, happy time. But then, he flunked his college exams and didn’t even get into his safety school. He lazed around, grew depressed, and let his apartment rot. He played video games until his online friends got jobs, and wasted any money he had on them as well. The only thing that scared him out of it is when his next door neighbor was found dead, having rotted into his own futon.

So imagine Hitori, who has worked so hard and lost everything he had done so for. Tirelessly, through his horrible, fucked up existence. Nageki, who had his short and miserable life robbed from him, had to die. Had to kill himself. And this random quail has the audacity to bitch and moan, thinking he’s got it bad? He’s a waste of space that could have been filled with Nageki. This is what Hitori’s brain is thinking. Hitori’s only ~20 years old when Nageki dies, after all.

I’m not saying this is cause for murder and identity theft. Don’t you dare misread me on this. But as I’ve stated prior- Hitori’s completely lost it. But you ship him with the chukar that literally ruined his life. Hitori’s a grey villain but holy fuck why would you want him to fuck the partridge that tortured and drove his only loved one to suicide?

It was wrong to trick Kazuaki. It was wrong to insult him as he died. It was wrong to steal his identity. That’s obvious and a given. But you all seem to look at that factoid alone, chalking it up to ‘preying on a poor mentally ill man” but not taking into consideration Hitori is mentally ill himself. ...Just not #relatable enough for you.

Hitori is suicidal as well. He’s been suicidal presumably since Nageki died. Don’t you dare say Hitori isn’t at least a little in the same boat. I don’t care if he’s not as soft and uwu and cuddly as Kazuaki. Mental illness is not rainbows and butterflies and emo hair (though Kazuaki is not portrayed this way).

Holiday star bears all the answers. I raise you important points, so pay close attention. The first key component is Hitori, found upside down in the pudding. He’s crying. Why is he crying? Because he’s lost his name? Oh, but think deeper.

“I’m Nemo”.

“Nemo” is latin for nothing, and his name translates to “nothing” in every language of HoliStar. The King has vomited him up in his kingdom, and robbed him back of what he stole from him. His identity.

But it goes even deeper than that.

“I’ve lost something, and so, I think I might cry.”

From this phrase alone, it’s painful to play this game. Nageki is right in front of his beak. But what did he do? He ate his own eyes. Hitori, in his refusal to identify with himself, has robbed himself of quite literally seeing the very bird he adores and sought after. Then, he is renamed his own identity by that bird (the only identity he accepts). How surreally real.

The second key component is when everybirdie is being rescued, but Leone warns Yuuya the quail is clearly falling more rapidly into a coma, and may not be able to awake. Why is this? Because Hitori wants to die. He’s fine with it, and Kazuaki is more than happy to keep him. When Yuuya finds him, Hitori is not at all alarmed as he should be. He seems passive, and simply wants to fall back to sleep. He’s to the point of trying to strangle Yuuya in attempt to let himself fall into eternal slumber (even if he thinks Yuuya is… Kazuaki..?).

Heed these next words carefully. When Yuuya asks if The King did something to him, Hitori replies-

“...No, all The King did was close the door.”

I am a firm believer this is Hitori indirectly saying “Kazuaki did nothing wrong, and I do not resent him for hating me.” Especially since Hitori shows signs of knowing it’s Kazuaki, and repenting.

“He said I need to be punished. Apparently I did something bad… and I think I know what it was.”

This is confirmed in my next point, so bear with me.

Hitori, in this same conversation, is admitting he wants to die. The only thing that stops him- as morbid as it may be, is remembering this takes place before the events of BBL. He hasn’t fulfilled what he believes is his “something I need to do”. Which is seek revenge, and bring Nageki home, as per Shadow’s orders.

Lastly, at the bitter end of Holiday Star when everybirdie is plummeting through the air from the false star, Hitori is still blind and confused. Suddenly, The King erupts from behind Hitori, and appears to be talking to him.

“Oh, is that right?”

“...I know, I know. ...but it’s still too soon. That’s right, I’ll be along soon. I’ll catch up with you. Someday…”

This is arguably my most prominent point in the entire essay. This is Hitori, admitting not only does he still plan to kill himself, but that he intends to keep his promise and reunite with Kazuaki in the afterlife. These are not the words of a heartless quail. These are the words of somebirdie who knows they’ve taken advantage of a friend, but is continuing to do their best to keep their promises and make amends. This is Hitori telling Kazuaki he still cares for him.

Hitori is the result of trauma and hardship beyond compare, and his inability to cope. He is not meant to be hated. He is meant to have shock value, yes. What he has done his disgusting, but you want to love him. Because he raised the sweetest bird in the entire game who would rather kill himself than hurt others.

Grey-villains are difficult, and because you can’t love them for being purely evil, you end up hating them for being a good person who’s done bad things. Hitori is a cracked window. Not quite shattered, but no longer whole, with a faulty image. Hitori is not just some heartless, manipulative, selfish bastard. He’s quite literally a bird with a broken wing (or entire ribcage more like), trying to… well, Live, and be happy.

#hitori uzune #uzune hitori #hatoful boyfriend #hatoful kareshi #hatoful #hatoful boyfriend bbl #kazuaki nanaki #nageki fujishiro #hatoful boyfriend holiday star

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singswan-springswan · 4 years

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Guys wait wait so I’ve been thinking. You know the Chosen One prophecy? How this one person with no biological dad would bring ultimate balance to the Force? Well we all know it was Anakin Skywalker, right? The whole “there was no father” “literally conceived by the midi-chlorians” thing was kind of a dead giveaway. So if Anakin is the chosen one, him killing Palpatine and then himself dying was supposed to make the siths go extinct and restore balance to the Force. At least, that’s what all the Jedi seemed to think. It’s one of the last things Obi-wan says to him on Mustafar: “They said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them!”.

ONLY THAT’S NOT WHAT THE PROPHECY SAYS. If we are to go word-for-word, nowhere in the prophecy are the terms “Sith” or “Jedi” ever mentioned. Only “ultimate balance”, and that is left to the interpretation of the reader. Now, we know how the Jedi would interpret “ultimate balance”. They clearly meant for it to establish the complete end of the Sith, and all aspects of the Dark Side in the galaxy. But then would that really be balanced? The entire galaxy on the side of light? Now, that’s kind of a tricky question, so let’s clear a few things up.

The Jedi have established concepts of the Force to fit their ideology, separating it into two distinct personalities: the Light, and the Dark. But I don’t think they did this because the Light or the Dark was exclusively good or bad. Their interpretations of the Light side are some of the most strict understandings of the mind and its nature. Order, peace, selflessness, rational thinking, detachment, discipline, humility. Some of these things are good, and all of them are easy to comprehend from a pragmatic point of view. Each aspect of the Jedi code is designed to translate simple, reasonable parts of the Force into something that people can embody by dedication and choice, and subsequently use to harness power. On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have “Dark” qualities, or concepts that are harder to wrap your mind around. Passion, fear, anger, worry, vengeance, sadness, pain, and any kind of strong emotion. Are these things bad? In their own time, yes. But can they also be good? Absolutely! Passion for your work, fear of something that can harm, anger at injustice. These feelings are misused more often than not, however, and so have become associated with bad character and evil deeds. But if you really want to break down the difference between “Dark” qualities versus those of the “Light”, the former are simply more difficult to rationalize. Think pathos versus logos.

I’m pretty sure this is the reason the Jedi began discriminating against certain qualities and their “Dark” nature. It was hard to reason, and hard to understand, so they categorized them with darkness, as something obscure and unknown. In doing so, they created an imbalance in the Force, focusing only on half of the aspects of the mind, and nurturing only one half of a character, teaching that their emotional, unpredictable side was evil and needed to be subdued. They taught that anything causing emotion, such as relationships or victories and failures must be regulated closely, or completely purged from one’s life. They forbid strong feeling of any kind. If a young Jedi had any “negative” emotions, such as anger or fear, they were trained to stamp it out instead of acknowledging the cause and dealing with their problems. I don’t know about you, but I find that pretty toxic. To take away emotion is to deprive a person of part of their nature. It’s in our nature to react and respond to things with intensity. We’re physiologically, biologically, and mentally designed this way. Instead of denying this aspect of what it means to be a person, it’s far healthier to learn to guide feelings and emotions. They aren’t something we can switch on and off; they’re assets of the mind, and they need to be treated as an equally valid resource as the ability to puzzle and analyze.

I’m not saying that emotions should dictate all of our actions and thoughts. I’m not saying that just because you feel something, it’s right. What I mean, is that instead of suppressing this key part of a person like the Jedi did, it should be trained and carefully pruned so that it can inform and help process, as it was meant to.

Okay, sorry for the long rant. Now that we have that out of the way, can it really be said that “ultimate balance” is the destruction of the “Dark” side and absolute reign of the “Light”? I say no. I think balance comes when the purest aspects of both sides come together in a way that seeks to eliminate real evil, and bring true good through harmony in the Force. That being the case, does this mean that Anakin fulfilled the prophecy when he chucked Sheev down a reactor shaft and electrocuted himself to death? Again... I don’t quite think so.

Obviously Anakin died, bringing about the end of the Sith in his time, but the Jedi had also suffered a heavy blow when Order 66 happened, and all their teachings and history became extinct (sort of. Yoda and Obi-wan didn’t exactly train Luke in the strict ways of the Jedi. They adhered more to the teachings of the Light than anything). So even though Luke then tried to bring up a new generation of Force-sensitive children in the ways of the old order, it didn’t quite work out. Why? Without compounded years of the Jedi’s indoctrination, their beliefs and teachings fell flat. Because you can’t deny yourself the need to feel, and to be felt. It’s who you are. Suppressing half of your brain’s function doesn’t work.

This in particular was something I really appreciated about the sequel trilogy. Over the course of the three movies, Rey learns that not everything is black and white. That both sides have taken something good and twisted it to their own devise. We as an audience learn that both things cannot be ignored as part of our being, and that we need to acknowledge both in a healthy, proper way. What if the struggle that Vader experiences in the original trilogy was his indirect expression of the dissatisfaction he’d experienced on both sides? He hated the Jedi for taking away his right to love, but being a Sith didn’t fill the void in his heart, even for all the unlimited power he had. Luke can recognize it easily enough, but the only way he knows how to put these things into words is by using the terms he’s been taught by dead Jedi masters. Make no mistake, I love Yoda and Obi-wan, but they pass on flawed concepts that still discriminate against feeling of any kind. Didn’t they tell Luke not to go to Cloud City even if it meant saving his friends—to let go of the people he loved?

It all eventually comes to a mount with Rey, actually, who seems to be the first to realize that she can get the best of both worlds without hurting herself or anyone else. Literally in her first official battle with Kylo-Ren, she reaches out to the Force with her emotions, and that’s how she wins. But not with anger, or pain, like her opponent does. She uses fierce loyalty, and countless different kinds of love. Rey builds off the mentorship of her mother-in-law and uncle to get a foundational understanding of what it means to be connected to the Force, but then through her own adventures and findings, she learns the rest on her own. It helps that she has good morals. And that her character arc is almost a direct parallel to Luke and Anakin’s. Somehow, she makes it work, and finally, eventually, when everything comes full circle and Rey accepts the last piece of who she is—her name—there is finally balance. Not just within her. Throughout the force.

Finally, the last of the twisted teachings, cults, and practices have been extinguished, and the Force is simply the Force again. It isn’t Light or Dark, it just is. Rey just happens to connect to it—that’s all. And this, I think, is where the prophecy is finally fulfilled. It’s a little strange, you say, because Anakin wasn’t the one in Rey’s position, but it’s understandable that it took so long, because the Sith and the Jedi and everything in between had lasted for thousands of years. And Anakin did have a cornerstone role. He was the first to really challenge the concept of Light versus Dark. He was the first to take aspects of both and use them for good. And of course, he started a family that literally shook the foundations of the galaxy and eventually led to Rey (not to mention he was a Force ghost for the entirety of the sequel series, able to interact with the physical world as well, and no doubt being able to influence the senses and experiences of some more direct characters).

Anyway, wow. That was a really long rant. Thanks for reading; I’m sorry if I bored you. I just really needed to process a bit myself lol. I mean I complain about writing papers for school but—anyway. So yep! That’s my breakdown of thoughts on the prophecy, and Anakin’s involvement and all that. I hope you enjoyed, and once again thank you for coming to my TedTalk *insert lenny face*

#the force #anakin skywalker #chosen one #star wars prophecy #light side vs. dark side #jedi #sith #i wrote an essay instead of working #rey skywalker #luke skywalker

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desiree-harding-fic · 5 years

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Broken Engagement Au (Chapter 1???)

“I’m not going to write another long fic while I already have a WIP,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to do it it’s a stupid decision and I’m not going to do it.”

So @fandomsnstuff is to blame for this and I can say that because she’s an incorrigible enabler, but here’s 1500 words of broken engagement because I can’t get over it.

CREDIT: Taako’s last name has been shamelessly stolen from Bureau of Badass by Chemicallywrit and miceenscene on Ao3, and @bureauofbadass on tumblr. Because it’s been my modern au name for Taako ever since I read that fic the first time, which, if you haven’t read it, drop everything and I’ll see you in a few days. Now that’s some writing.

Check the #broken engagement au tag on my blog for more snippets!

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“Angus?” Taako says mildly from behind his desk.

“Hmm??” The kid hums from where he’s hanging upside down off Taako’s ratty classroom couch in the corner. His glasses are half falling off his face, but he’s got a book held up a few inches from his nose anyway. The thing is, the book is right-side up.

“Whatcha doin’ there, kiddo?” Taako asks, marking through another sentence on the paper in front of him with a frown.

“Well, sir,” Angus starts in that tone that always makes Taako bite down on a grin, “I read them too fast right side up. I think my comprehension is suffering because the words go by too fast.”

“Bullshit,” Taako says, ignoring Angus’s language, sir! “Your comprehension is fine and you know it. You’re just a show-off nerd,” he teases.

“Says the one who had a powerpoint about LGBT influences in 16th Century literature ready last week for the eventuality that someone in your class called Mercutio ‘kinda gay,’”

“Hey, that was a good lesson –” Taako starts in, but the kid sits up abruptly on the couch, putting the book down and picking up his phone. Taako can hear another buzz of a message coming in as the kid is scrolling through it.

“My dad’s here, sir,” he says, “he’s on his way to the room now.”

“About time.” Taako puts the essay back in the section folder, slips it into his bag to grade when he gets home. The grading is endless. One of his least favorite parts of the job. Who needs grades anyway? All his kids are smart. Seems dumb to hold them all to the same arbitrary standard.

“I’m sorry for keeping you, sir,” Angus says, and he’s moved over to the desk he threw his backpack down on when he came into the room almost an hour ago. He looks a little unsure, and Taako curses himself silently in his head.

“It’s ok, kid,” he says, trying to make sure he sounds like he means it so Angus won’t feel bad, “I told you, it ain’t no thing for me to stay after a bit to talk to your old man.”

Angus is… a special case. Taako’s never had anything like him in a class before. Kid’s only just turned 12 years old and he’s already starting high school. A real whiz-kid, but it’s a tough world out there, high school being full of teenagers of all shapes, sizes, and personalities, for a literal kid –

Hence Taako.

He’s been teaching at Neverwinter Academy for almost four years now, grateful every second of the time that anyone deigned to give him a job (and thank the gods for Principal Davenport), much less at a premier private school where he’s largely allowed to make his own curriculum with only a few guidelines. It’s a good job. Taako likes it. It’s stable and it’s safe and no one’s going to die from Taako’s lecturing and he actually kind of has a knack with the kids, weirdly enough.

Hence Angus and Taako.

Neverwinter Secondary Academy has a mentorship program. Kids who seem to struggle a bit academically get paired with a faculty adviser to help see them through. Well Angus is anything but struggling – he’s gotten straight As on every assignment Taako’s given thus far – but all the same, Taako was contacted at the beginning of the year about the kid. He was placed right in the program anyway, not for academic reasons for once, but for social.

You have a knack for getting close to the students, Davenport’s email had read. While I see no reason why Angus shouldn’t succeed at NSA, he might have some difficulty adjusting socially. His parent originally contacted us about the idea, and I have to say I agree that giving Angus an extra support figure can only be beneficial.

Taako had agreed, of course; how could he say no? And meeting Angus had really cinched it. Kid’s only been in Taako’s class a little over a month, but he’s already maybe one of Taako’s favorite students, like, ever. Not that Taako plays favorites. He likes all his students just the same, thank you very much.

(Angus is definitely his favorite.)

It didn’t help that the kid’s a goofball smartass nerd, either, which is the exact archetype that makes up like… 98% of Taako’s family and close friends. It doesn’t help that he’s got a single parent keeping everything together at home based on the school records and the email chain back and forth. It doesn’t help that his dad, who he mentions about as often to Taako as people talk about like… the weather, seems like a really genuine guy who’s trying really hard based on the email chain they’ve had going. Angus’s dad set up the parent/teacher conference, even, to check in on how things are going, one-on-one with Angus’s adviser. It’s almost disgustingly practical and good and loving and it seems like everything in this kid’s entire life has been engineered to make Taako fuckin’ love him.

It’s really not fair. He teaches like 90 students. He’s not supposed to have favorites.

And yet.

There’s a knock on Taako’s door and they both look up, Angus smiling immediately, which definitely isn’t cute, Taako, Christ, and Taako gets up from his desk and smooths his shirt out. He dressed normal today and everything. He knows the kids like his… eccentric style, but parents? Parents are always a different game. And knowing he was about to meet Angus’s dad today gave him pause that morning. Still. The soft blue button down and slacks are a touch rumpled from a day’s work. He could look better.

He gets up and goes to the door, Angus trailing along behind.

*****

Neverwinter Secondary Academy could be a maze for all Kravitz’s skill navigating his way to Angus’s classroom, which is of course the farthest from the front office that any in this place could be, surely, and he’s already late after being kept at work, and he’s sure that Angus’s teacher is at the very least unimpressed with him and more likely annoyed, which is just what he needed -

He finally finds his way, sees the sign reading T. Peynirci, and he takes a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in his jacket from the day (which of course does no good because it never does), before he raises his hand and knocks on Mr. Peynirci’s door.

And Taako opens it.

“Ah,” Taako says, and then nothing else, his hand hovering in midair where it was clearly extended for a handshake -

“Dad!” Angus says, “this is my adviser and English teacher, Mr. Peynirci,” and there’s a little bit of a sneer in it that Kravitz doesn’t know the context for, “Taako, this is my dad.” And it’s exactly how an introduction should go, all crossed t’s and dotted i’s -

And Kravitz’s brain is on high alert, emergency sirens blaring.

And his first thought, infuriatingly, is how good Taako looks, now, still, after all this time. Which is ridiculous because Kravitz can hardly recognize him (he’s wearing glasses, for Christ’s sake) and also because he hasn’t seen Taako in over twelve years and he’s supposed to be past those thoughts by now -

The second thought is who on Earth entrusted Taako with the care and keeping (and the education) of a bunch of impressionable teenagers, much less his son’s mental, emotional, and social well-being -

The third thought is that Angus is right there and Kravitz has been staring blankly at Taako for what is likely about to become a second too long -

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Peynirci,” he says, reaching out and shaking Taako’s hand, though he doesn’t want to touch him, does he? (He does, he does so much.) Nice to meet you, he says, and he shakes Taako’s hand, and he can feel his grip, too tight, can see, perfectly, the moment Taako’s eyes go from shocked and awed to empty, except for a spark, just a spark of malice, right there. He regrets everything.

“Likewise, Mr. McDonald,” Taako says, releasing Kravitz’s hand, and Kravitz nearly winces from it. Because it was one thing, wasn’t it, to make the decision to pretend that Taako was a stranger, but it’s another to be on the receiving end of it, to see Taako introducing himself as though he’s going to trip over Kravitz’s very name, as though he’s never had to say it out loud before this moment. As though Taako didn’t spend years falling asleep and waking up beside Kravitz, didn’t spend years going out and pressing himself against Kravitz in dim bars, tipsy and warm. As though he didn’t spend a year wearing a ring Kravitz selected for him, and sized to fit just so. As though he didn’t almost take that name and make it his own.

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Taako says, and he smiles without any of his teeth.

#taz balance #taako taaco #kravitz #taakitz #broken engagement au #my writing #thanks laura

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tobashiarg-blog-archive · 5 years

Text

Turns Out Being a Super Hero Is Actually Really Gay! - Chapter 5

Hey kiddos, I’m back! Your main bitch here has NOT been in the best mental health as of late :) My boss at my current job is driving me up a wall and I may need to find a new one since he might not be able to pay me for the hours I do, my depression is kicking my ass, and my dog was going to have puppies but then had a miscarriage and it turns out she can never have puppies again or risk dying next time. Soooo yeah, I’m probably not okay, but that’s okay because we are back with another chapter of your fav spiderbois! Again, huge thanks to @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil for their wonderful au! Also shout out to @khadij-al-kubra for helping me appropriately write Logan and his family! They gave me some awesome advice and insight into Muslim culture and you should totally check out their blog and read their Thomas In Wonderland fan fic, it’s super cute! Anyways, now with that out of the way please ENJOY!!!!

Master Post

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The boys collapsed on to the couch in Thomas’s living room in one heaping pile of uncoordinated limbs and groans. They were absolutely exhausted, aching joints and sore muscles which they were careful to move slowly. Thomas, meanwhile, leaned over the back of the couch, suit still intact but mask off, smiling amusingly at the tired teens.

“So, third day of training went well,” Thomas snickered, the boys groaned in response causing the older man to laugh again “yeah, you’ll get use to it eventually. Just because your muscles are stronger doesn’t mean they aren’t prone to getting tired when worked out.”

“I take back every nice thing I said about you,” Virgil murmured, face down across the couch “you are the absolute worst and I’d rather take Ms. Green’s Saturday day classes.”

“I ache all over.” Patton whined.

“The body takes about a week or so to get used to routine work out,” Logan groaned out “but as you do you adjust it so that you don’t get used to it and extend your bodies limit. But even so this training fucking sucks!”

“Agreed,” Roman grunted “I have so many regrets.”

“Toughen up boys, you all wanted to be super heroes,” Thomas tutted “besides, we haven’t even gotten to the hard parts yet.”

“The worst!” Virgil hissed “Terrible mentor! Zero out of ten!”

Thomas chuckled, “If it helps, you all are doing great. I’m really proud off all the effort and hard work you’ve been putting into this. Now, weather that’ll stay throughout the entirety of your training is to be determined but I have faith in you all.”

The boys stayed quiet for a long while, faces flushed red though it wasn’t from the intense work out they just had, mostly. They’ve all been doing their damnedest to show how serious they were about becoming heroes, wanting to prove to Thomas and everyone else that they weren’t messing around. And even if it’s only been a short while it was nice to know that Thomas had faith in them and wanted to see them succeed. It was pretty fucking sweet to know that your hero and now mentor had your back.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too sappy, you still suck.” Virgil grumbled, but the blush on his cheeks plus the smile he kept trying to hide told a different tale.

“Oh well, if I’m the worse them I guess you guys wouldn’t be interested in any of the ‘after work out’ sandwiches I made,” Thomas said innocently, turning to walk towards the kitchen “plus, a banana and strawberry milkshake but it’s probably not that great cause, you know, I’m the worst and all.”

The boys were silent once more before suddenly jumping off the couch and racing after Thomas towards the kitchen.

“Best teacher! Twelve out of ten gold stars!” Virgil called out.

“I’m not all that achey!” Patton said, a slight wince in his step.

“Well really the body shouldn’t ever get used to a work out too much,” Logan informed “and the routines you’ve set up for us will really balance out our bodies.”

“Best decision of my life! Absolutely, no regrets!” Roman cheered.

---

The boys lazed around in the kitchen, chatting as they ate their mountain of sandwiches and delicious milkshakes and Thomas couldn’t help but feel kind of domestic. He didn’t usually have much company besides Joan and Talyn and even then, he was sometimes too busy to properly hang out with them. But they understood, even before they found out about him being Rainbow Weaver Joan and Talyn were always supporting him and Thomas will forever be grateful for that. But there was just something about having a room full of people, chatting and laughing, with a mutual understanding of each other’s situation that made Thomas feel…less alone.

‘Welcome to parenthood fucker!’ A voice in Thomas’s head, that suspiciously sounded a lot like Joan, cackled.

“Shush.” Thomas mumbled quietly as he shook his head to silence the voice before returning to the conversation at hand.

“The whole movie is basically a promotion on Stockholm syndrome!” Virgil exclaimed.

“She stayed on her own accord so she could save her father!” Roman shot back “Plus he did let her go after she went into the forbidden room only SAVE her when she was in danger! She could have left after he passed out but no, she went back again WILLINGLY to nurse him back to health!”

Roman and Virgil had been arguing about the story line of various Disney movies for the better part of an hour now. Thomas, Logan, and Patton sat as the audience, occasionally throwing in their own opinions but staying out of it for the most part. Even if the debate seemed intense it kind of looked like the two were having fun in their own strange way. Currently they were discussing the elements of Beauty and the Beast.

“Yeah, because it’s either get mauled to death and freeze in the woods or be trapped in solitude!” Virgil quipped “She just chose the better half of a bad situation that would provide her with food and shelter!”

“But they fell in love!” Roman cried.

“Yes, because a prisoner falling in love with their capture is totally healthy and cool if you add bunch of dancing silverware!” Virgil snarked.

“Ugh! You are impossible!” Roman groaned “How is it you claim to like Disney but have all this bad to say about it?”

“Because it’s literally the whole reason I like it in the first place,” Virgil snorted “there are so many dark elements to it that people over look. Especially if you read the original fairy tales that inspired them.”

“You just want to make everything dark and edgy,” Roman grumbled “not everything has to have a dark side.”

“Everything does have a dark side, Sir Sing-A-Lot.” Virgil smirked.

“Ha, I like that nickname and I’m gunna use it!” Roman huffed.

“Not that it isn’t great that you two are getting along,” Logan said sarcastically, finishing his milkshake and grabbing another sandwich “but me and Virgil got to get going or we’ll be late for dinner and I would rather not endure my mother’s wrath.”

“Oh shit, that’s today?” Virgil asked as he began to pack his stuff.

“What’s today?” Patton asked curiously.

“My brother is coming over for dinner,” Logan replied dryly “we haven’t seen him in a while.”

“You don’t seem too excited.” Thomas said.

“It’s not that I’m not excited to see him after so long it’s just…” Logan paused, fidgeting over uncomfortable feel of emotion running through his brain, wondering if he should even bother discussing this any further. Eventually, he chose not to, “Nothing, it’s just, you know, tired from all the training and…stuff.”

Thomas knew there was something more to the whole situation, as did Patton and Roman, but out of politeness nobody said anything. They instead looked to Virgil to see if he could clue them in on something, they were missing but the purple clad teen only shrugged and shook his head. So, they were quick to change the subject.

“What are the rest of you doing this evening?” Thomas asked.

“My brother Alex said he was gunna take me and Georgie, my other brother, out somewhere,” Patton sighed, rolling his eyes “that’s usually code for he wants to impress a girl by showing what a ‘cool and caring’ brother he is and will fail miserably. But hey, I’m not gunna look a gift horse in the mouth, usually he takes us to cool places.”

“My mom and sister are working late again so I have to pick up and babysit the twins,” Roman replied before suddenly remembering something and turned to Virgil “Virgil what are you doing?”

Virgil paused, giving Roman an odd look, “Uh, besides dinner at the Quinn’s, nothing much afterwards. Why?”

“Good, because you need to come over so we can finish up that stupid essay due on Monday and I can’t have you over on Sunday because we have church and a baby shower to go to.” Roman said as he casually munched on another sandwich.

“Shit, that’s still a thing,” Virgil groaned, looking to Logan for help “have you even started on that?”

“Oh yes, me and Patton finished it recently.” Logan replied coolly.

“We video chatted since me and Lo had other stuff to attend to and couldn’t come over to each other’s houses.” Patton added.

“That’s why you flaked out on movie night yesterday,” Roman said in a moment of realization before pouting “you chose a study date with your boyfriend over me?”

Logan choked on the sandwich he was still munching on whole Patton squeaked and flushed a dark red. Virgil snickered as he went over to pat Logan’s back until he stopped coughing while Patton blubbered and waved his hands around, shrieking how “it’s not like that Roman, you know that! We just- we study a-and – we aren’t, uh…” Logan was soon to join in once he got the proper amount of air in his lungs, face just and red and sputtering just as embarrassed.

Thomas bit back a laugh while Roman and Virgil, the little shits, out right smirked in that smug way all best friends do when they see each other suffering. It was painfully obvious that Logan and Patton a “thing” for each other but were just too shy and awkward to acknowledge it. It was easy to push their buttons and was also extremely entertaining to watch. Still, Thomas was merciful and kindly decided to redirect the subject again.

“Well, while you kids enjoy your evening plans, I’ll be out on patrol,” Thomas said, stretching out a bit “so if you need to contact me and I’m a little slow to respond you’ll know why.”

“Might pass by that ally way again while patrolling?” Virgil asked innocently, though the devious smirk on his face was a dead giveaway “You know, just to make sure there’s no one in danger?”

“Yeah, like a certain cute barista?” Roman snickered.

Thomas’s cheeks colored pink and he regretted his previous act of mercy because those little vipers turn head so fast it’s as if they planed it. “You know we could just spend a whole day doing laps next training day?”

“We could, but that still wouldn’t erase the fact that you’re too gay to function around attractive males.” Logan smirked.

“Aw, but wouldn’t it be cute if they went out on a date?” Patton gushed, his comment was genuine but that didn’t make Thomas any less flustered. “You should try and talk to him, like for reals. Maybe ask him out on a cute little coffee date?”

“I am like flashing back to so many Coffee Shop Au fics it’s not even funny,” Virgil laughed breathlessly “anyway, Roman, text me your address and I’ll swing by after dinner. See ya gays later.”

“Don’t you mean guys?” Patton asked.

“I know what I said.” Virgil replied as he and Logan made their way out of the kitchen.

Roman shrugged, “He isn’t wrong though.”

---

They arrived at their apartment building in record time, Vigil having informed his parents before hand that he’d be at Logan’s for dinner before heading out to Roman’s to finish up the essay. Though at the moment neither of them were in any hurry to get to where they were going, taking a dramatically long time climbing up the stairs instead of taking the elevator.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along with you and Morgan after dinner?” Virgil asked for the tenth time that day “I really, really don’t mind flaking out on Roman.”

“As much as I would like that you really do need to finish your essay,” Logan sighed “it counts as a major grade for your science class.”

It wasn’t that Logan’s brother was a bad guy, on the contrary he was actually really cool and easy to talk too, but the constant comparisons made between them by their parents made Logan kind of resent him, just a little. Don’t get him wrong, Logan loved his older brother and wouldn’t mind spending more time with him but as of late the closer Logan got to graduation the more his parents…“pushed” him to follow in his brother’s footsteps. He couldn’t even mention about applying for colleges around them because then they’d go into a spiral about all the colleges Morgan got excepted to at his age and how he should apply for those and go for this program that Morgan did and maybe he could study abroad like Morgan did. It’s not like they did it on purpose, Logan knew his parents loved him and were proud of him, they only wanted what’s best for him so that he could succeed and gain opportunities that they couldn’t when they were young. But sometimes it just…got a bit much.

“Come on, let me procrastinate,” Virgil whined, though it was more to make Logan laugh then being serious “I don’t want to spend my whole afternoon with Roman.”

“It’s not my fault the teachers chose him as a partner for you,” Logan chuckled “at least he’s willing to do work and not slack off like others. Plus, better him then Dolion.”

“Mmh, true,” Virgil grumbled “but stiiiill! The only reason you’re not complaining is because you got to be all buddy-buddy with Patton and make heart eyes at him all day.”

As expected, Logan was a blushing, sputtering mess, “I-it’s not like that!”

Vigil continued to tease his best friend all the way up until their destination, then everything got tense again. Logan took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he went over the most likely scenarios that would happen during dinner, none of them were good. But Logan just had to get through dinner then an awkward night out with his brother and after he could just sulk in his room the rest of the night. His train of thought was broken by a gentle hand squeezing his own and he turned to find Virgil smiling at him sympathetically.

“I got your back if that means anything?” Virgil shrugged.

Logan gave him a tiny, appreciative smile, “It means everything.”

“Great,” Virgil turned towards the awaiting door in front of them “let’s face Hades together.”

“You know, Hades wasn’t an evil god,” Logan began to explain “he was just god of the Underworld and-”

“You know what I mean.” Virgil scoffed as he opened the door to Logan’s apartment.

Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Quinn were in the living room enthusiastically entertaining their special guest of the evening, Morgan Quinn. Looks wise, Morgan and Logan looked pretty similar, tall lanky build, neat trimmed hair, and thick square glasses. Personality wise, they couldn’t be more different, Logan was always the more serious of the two while Morgan tended to be the more goofy, social butterfly. Despite being polar opposites, they got along pretty great, Morgan was the one that introduced Logan to his love of space and it was that mutual love that formed an incredible bond between them. They’d always go up to the roof and look at the stars through their telescope, read up on NASA’s latest discoveries and plans, or just binge watch a bunch of space documentaries. But lately, Logan’s been looking at the stars less, it’s been moths since he’s looked into what NASA’s been up too, and he’s kind of been avoiding space documentaries all together if he’s honest.

“Lolo!” Morgan exclaimed excitedly as he rushed to hug his brother “Salaam alekum!”

“Waalekum salaam,” Logan replied, a small smile appearing on his face despite his internal conflict “welcome home.”

“Geez, you sprouted up like a bean stalk,” Morgan laughed as he pulled back to look over his little brother “what are Ummi and Babá feeding you?”

“All required nutrition regiments,” Logan quipped “though I can only assume your stunted growth is due to the college dietary restrictions of coffee and instant noodles.”

“Quit exposing me,” Morgan chided playfully before turning to Virgil with his arms open wide for a hug “Virge, salaam alekum!”

“Waalekum salaam,” Virgil replied, tentatively accepting the hug though Morgan knew he wasn’t one for physical affection so he didn’t linger long “how you’ve been?”

“I’ve been great, tired but great,” Morgan chuckled “and you still haven’t grown? I though Ummi was stuffing you down with the same thing she’s been feeding Logan?”

“Gunna take a lot more then forced self-care to make me into a functioning human being.” Virgil smirked.

“Speaking of eating,” Mrs. Quinn cut through the chatter as she made her way to the kitchen “I made your favorite Morgan, kufta and rice. Shall we eat now?”

“Please,” Morgan half begged “I’m a starving college student.”

They family plus Virgil gathered around the table, filling their plates with the lamb meat balls, rice and side salad put in place. It was all pleasantries at first, catching up on each other’s lives and reminiscing on the past and how it compared to the present. It was nice, laughter and chatter filled the room as other’s ate to think of more conversation topics.

Then Mrs. Quinn asked, “How has your internship been at Oscorps?”

And so it began.

“Oh, it’s been amazing,” Morgan gushed “I’ve been learning so much about bioengineering and genetic research. There’s been so many advances made in the medical field and it’s just fascinating to see the behind the scenes of everything.”

“You know, Logan and Virgil went on a field trip to Oscorps this week,” Mr. Quinn said, unknown to him that Logan’s eye began to twitch waiting for the inevitable “I would have hoped they’d see you there in action.”

“Oh no, I’m usually in the back with the researchers,” Morgan explained before looking to his brother “but if you would have texted me earlier, I could have given you and Virge a secret tour of the latest project we’ve been working on. It’s awesome, you would have loved it Lo.”

“I, um…” Logan began, fiddling with the food on his plate.

“Logan, I thought we told you to call your brother and ask about the internship requirements?” Mrs. Quinn asked.

“I forgot.” Logan said lamely.

“Babá you can’t afford to be forgetting these things,” Mr. Quinn scolded gently “you have to build up a good college resume and a company like Oscorps will get you accepted into any school you want.”

“Yeah, I know.” Logan mumbled, having stopped eating all together and was now just staring at his plate.

“Well, he’s still just a junior in high school,” Morgan cut in before more could be said by either of his parents “an internship like this is not easy to come by. Some people are on a waiting list for years and even then, they might not get accepted.”

“But didn’t they offer you a position when you were in high school?” Mrs. Quinn asked “Surely if Logan took an extra class or two, he could have one too.”

“What they offered me was an errand boy that made print outs and got coffee,” Morgan explained, secretly watching as the tension in his brother’s shoulders relaxed just a bit “they’re not gunna let a high schooler into a research lab no matter how smart he is. Maybe once he hits college but even then, he could get a much better offer from somewhere else. I hear the robotic engineering program in Carnegie and Brown are real buddy-buddy with Stark Industries.”

Logan smiled, just a little, tentative and quiet, “Really?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Quinn butted in, and just like that the tension in Logan’s shoulders returned “Stark Industries is sketchy at best, especially with all that Avengers mumbo-jumbo going on. Besides, wouldn’t a job in the medical field be more secure financial wise? All I ever see that Tony Stark do on the news is make new toys for him to play with and destroy the city.”

“Saving the world from an alien invasion and government corruption,” Morgan explained “pretty sure that’s kind of important Ummi.”

Mrs. Quinn shrugged, “I guess so.”

“But what about that whole mess with the Avengers?” Mr. Quinn asked “Or whatever’s going on there? There’s always some kind of conflict with them.”

“It’s been cleared up now,” Morgan informed them “plus I hear Stark Industries are partnering up with a famed research facility in Wakanda. They’re supposed to have technological advances years beyond us. I’m sure Logan will be snatched up in an instant.”

Mr. and Mrs. Quinn seemed sort of swayed but they surely still had more questions and probing statements to say. Thankfully, Morgan was quick to jump in and change the conversation. “So Logan, Ummi and Babá were telling me how you, Virge and some friends made a club together, how’s that been going?”

Not a topic Logan wished to discuss in great detail but he’d chose that over the previous one. “Uh, great, we’ve been making excellent progress.”

“And what of the other guys in your group?” Morgan asked, genuinely curious “How are they like?”

“They’re…great,” Logan chuckled awkwardly “just two classmates from our school, Patton and Roman, we all head a group project together and we got discussing on some issues and of course one thing led to another.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool,” Virgil added “and we’re getting…stuff and things done. It’s small but nice.”

“That’s good,” Morgan smiled “I hope to meet these new friends someday, I’m getting kind of tired of just Virgil at our house all the time.”

“You know we all thought the same thing with you,” Virgil rolled his eyes but gave an easy smirked “thank god you left for college.”

Morgan laughed, “Geez, Virge, tell me how you really feel. Also, I heard you guys were being sponsored by Thomas Sanders, unless Ummi and Babá got the name mixed up?”

“Yeah, we didn’t believe it either at first,” Logan chuckled nervously, him and Virgil sharing a knowing look “but the school district recommended him and he accepted so it was only logical of us to accept as well.”

“How hard did you and Virgil fan girl? Be honest.” Morgan teased.

Logan pouted (though he’d deny it till his dying day) and promptly returned to his dinner, “Suddenly, I don’t remember the details.”

“It’s like it never even happened,” Virgil added dramatically “Thomas Sanders who? What club?”

“Aw, come on guys!” Morgan chuckled, playfully shoving his brother’s shoulder “I’m only kidding…mildly, though seriously how hard did you fan girl? Cause I’m pretty sure Virge has a fan about him that’s just as big as Rainbow Weaver.”

“You know what, go back to your internship and shove your head in a toxic waste tank,” Virgil quipped with flushed cheeks “nobody wanted you here anyway.”

“Hey, you never know, I might gain powers like Rainbow Weaver,” Morgan smirked triumphantly “then I’ll be the one meeting him.”

Logan smirked mysteriously, “Doubtful.”

---

Roman had just finished cleaning the last of the dishes when a buzz was heard throughout the apartment. He was quick to wipe his hands as he moved pasted the kitchen table where the twins were doing homework, ruffling Marco’s hair in the process. The younger gave off an annoyed whine as he swatted his older brother’s hand away who chuckled to himself as he reached the buzzer box and pressed the call button.

“Who is it?” Roman asked.

“It’s Virgil, buzz me in.” The voice responded.

“Sure, give me a minute,” Roman replied, pressing another button before heading off towards his room to retrieve his backpack and set up in the living room. He did not for the life of him trust the twins by themselves, little demons could get into loads of trouble the second you look away from them.

“Who’s that?” Jenni asked, inspecting over her macaroni art project.

“A…friend?” Roman said tentatively “We’re gunna do homework, that’s all you need to know so keep the noise down to a minimum when you guys are done, okay?”

“Is it Patton?” Marco asked excitingly, he always liked when Patton came over, Patton usually spoiled the two with homemade treats.

“No, it’s not Patton.” Roman said, rummaging through his back for the notes Logan gave him.

“Then who is he?” Jenni asked, curiosity finally pulling her away from her glittery macaroni art disaster. Roman groaned at the thought of having to clean that up later.

“Just, uh, guy from a club I’m in,” Roman explained begrudgingly “we have to do a project together, that’s all.”

“Why didn’t you pick Patton as your partner?” Marco asked, half disappointed he would be getting sweets but also curious as to who this new person was.

“Because the teacher chose them for us.” Roman responded bluntly.

“Why?” Jenni asked.

“Because the school system is a dumb-dumb.” Roman said tiredly.

“Why?” Marco asked.

“Why are you guys so invested in this?” Roman snapped, he didn’t mean to but he was already on edge as it was. Virgil and him had a rocky relationship as it was, they were co-workers at best after the whole spider power thing, but even so he had no idea where he stood with him. He knew exactly where he stood with everybody else; Patton was his best friend, Thomas was his mentor and Logan was a nuisance though still fun to poke at. Virgil was just a wild card, sometimes they got along and sometimes they didn’t, it was a weird line they walked and Roman had no idea what step was the wrong step and which one was the right.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jenni sang, Marco giggling beside her as Roman’s face lit up in red hot flames. “Absolutely not!”

---

Vigil found himself once more taking his time climbing up the stairs when there was a perfectly functioning elevator. The realization of what he was doing and where he was going finally hit him after seeing Morgan and Logan out after dinner. He was going to Roman Marigold’s apartment, Roman Marigold, quite possibly the most annoying human being in the entire school next to Dolion.

It’s not that Roman seemed like a bad guy, he was actually pretty decent when his giant ego was in check and wasn’t jumping off buildings unexpectedly. But for some reason he just got under Virgil’s skin and knew what buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. Though he had no ide if he was doing it to be mean or it was just this weird thing between them. When Roman fought with Logan you always kind of got this vibe that they…not liked each other though it seems like they had mutual respect. But when he and Roman fought it varied on what the situation was, sometimes it could be Disney banters, playful bickering, full on heated debates, or just poking insults. It was weird and Virgil had no idea what to do with it.

He finally reached the door and just as he was about to knock, he heard giggling and a high pitch screech. “Absolutely not!”

Maybe this was bad time, he should probably go back, Virgil didn’t want to be caught in the middle of any family disputes if this was what it was. But he didn’t move to leave, nor did he move to knock again, he just stood there frozen in perpetual confusion and panic, listening to the conversation beyond the door.

Tiny voices sang in a jumpy school yard tune, “Roman’s got a boyfriend! Roman’s got a boyfriend!”

“I do not!” Came the embarrassed reply that Virgil could only guess was Roman.

Virgil clasped a hand over his mouth so as to repress the giggle threatening to slip. It was absolutely hilarious to hear the pristine ego maniac that is Roman Marigold get flustered and loss his cool due to, what sounded like, a bunch of little kids taunting him. Even so it wasn’t very appropriate of him to be eavesdropping on people’s conversations, no matter how hilarious or ridiculous they may seem, so he made quick work of knocking on the door.

It opened almost immediately, a red cheeked Roman staring intently at him, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I buzzed you like five minutes ago, remember?” Virgil smirked “We’re you talking to someone?”

“No! No, just…you know,” The flamboyant teen made a vague gesture with his hands “things?”

“Things?” Virgil echoed with an odd look.

Roman nodded and it was suddenly quiet for a long time. Virgil awkwardly standing in the hallway while Roman fidgeted against the door frame, both staring intently at each other without blinking. Finally, a cough from behind Roman snapped them both out of their stupor. They turned to find two smirking children peeking out from behind the living room couch, no doubt Roman’s siblings, they were practically mini carbon copies.

Roman glared at them while Virgil gave a shy wave before asking, “Can I come in now?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Roman stuttered, quickly stepping aside to let Virgil in.

---

Morgan had gotten them tickets to the planetarium viewing of Dark Universe at the American Museum of National History as well as general passes for the rest of the museum. Logan was admittingly excited to go, it’s been a long time since he’s been to a planetarium especially one as grand as the Hayden Planetarium. But on the other hand, the awkward silence between Logan and his brother during the entire taxi ride here was very heavy and uncomfortable. Not that Morgan wasn’t trying to make conversation it’s just that Logan was snubbing them out as quickly as he was thinking them.

Dinner with other people was one thing, an outing by themselves was another. There weren’t other people to buffer out the awkward when things got slow or stale. They use to go on outings together all the time, talking endlessly for hours and hour far into the night, discussing the universe, life, and anything else they could think of. But that was then, this was now, and as of now they haven’t hung out properly in a long time plus Logan’s parents weren’t really helping him warm up to the whole situation. Regardless if Morgan was able to diverge the conversation near the end or not there was still that…tension.

“So…have you ever seen Dark Universe before?” Morgan asked as the lazily walked inside the building, the display of planets across the outside of the planetarium quiet distracting. There were two entrance into the museum, at the front where the famed t-rex statue was displayed and the back where the Earth and Science exhibits were.

“They were going to take us last year for a school field trip but the bus broke down and we missed the showing.” Logan shrugged, looking around at all the displays of planets, stars and solar systems.

“Ah, well that means it’ll be a first viewing for both of us,” Morgan said cheerily, dramatically raising a fist in the air “a bonding experience we shall never forget!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at his brother’s weird display who in turn shyly put his hand down, “Uh, anyway, how’s life? How’s school? How’s that club you got going?”

“It’s fine,” Logan said simply “everything is functioning as it should, it’s only the beginning of the first semester so nothing much has happened. Well, except for…a complication.”

“Yeah, mom and dad told me what happened,” Morgan sighed, a bitter sneer on his face “I still can’t believe there’s jerks like that out there.”

“Indeed,” Logan nodded “but it’s nothing to get worked up over, it’s not like it was the root of the whole ordeal. I was merely…defending a friend from certain public humiliation.”

“Who were they anyway?” Morgan asked before clarifying “The friend you helped out, are they in that club you made?”

“Uh, yes,” Logan said bashfully, a light pink dusking his cheeks “his name is – Patton?”

Logan froze in his tracks, his brother taking a second to notice, because there near a display of Halley’s comet was Patton Foster. He was wearing a stunning high waist space print skirt, black leggings, a soft looking baby blue crop top sweater, and black boots. He also wore sparkly silver star droop earrings and a matching moon neckless, as well as glittery silver clips in his hair. Patton had yet to notice Logan staring, too enraptured in reading over the little facts beside the display, and the genus will forever be grateful for that.

“Who’s that?” Morgan asked, snapping Logan out of his daze.

“Uh, no one,” Logan said much too quickly “l-let’s take a short cut another direction, I think I saw a map that showed the way.”

Morgan smirked deviously, “They don’t look like no one, you obviously know their name.”

Logan was screwed.

“H-he’s just a friend from school, I don’t want to bother him,” Logan sputtered nervously “let’s just go somewhere else so we won’t disturb his evening.”

“Hey, there’s no harm in saying hi,” Morgan chuckled, grabbing onto his brother’s arm so he wouldn’t scurry way “plus, he’s looking this way already.”

“What?” Logan squeaked.

True to his word, Patton had seen them and was now waving at them with that big, bright, beautiful smile of his. Morgan, the devil, waved back just as enthusiastically as he dragged Logan along with him because he’s was half certain Logan was frozen stiff. As they got closer Patton seemingly decided to meet them half way, bright eyed and springy as ever.

“Hey Lo, I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Patton smiled, he looked to Morgan curiously “is this your brother?”

“So, he does talk about me,” Morgan joked and Logan died “all good things I hope.”

Patton giggled, a pleasant bell to Logan’s ears, “Only in passing conversation but being that your brothers I can only assume you’re just as smart and amazing as he is.”

Morgan smiled big and wide, leaning down near Logan in an exaggerated whisper, “I like him, keep him around.”

Logan wasn’t a violent man by nature but annoying sibling could just so easily get under your skin and drive you to murder. “What brings you to the museum Patton? It was my assumption you were on an outing with your brothers.”

Patton pouted, blowing out a huff of air, “Yeah, Alex went to flirt with receptionist lady and Georgie left to drag him back. Alex won a raffle at work and won tickets to this show at the planetarium called Dark Universe. I’m honestly kind of nervous, I don’t really know what it’s about and the title doesn’t seem too pleasant.”

“No need to worry Patton,” Logan assured “it’s simply a documentary displaying the wonders of our universe while providing commentary. Nothing scary or abnormal, I promise.”

“Oh good,” Patton sighed in relief “I was worried that-”

“Ahk, Georgie! Put me down!”

“Stop behaving like a child and I’ll think about it. Where’s Patton?”

“I think he’s over there? Hey! Hey, Pat! Yhoohoo! We’re over here!”

Patton’s face morphed into something between embarrassment and annoyance as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be actively avoiding making eye contact with the two squabbling giants heading towards them. They looked to be the perfect size for professional football players or basketball players or both, point is they were huge compared to petite Patton who landed just under Logan’s nose. Then again, Logan was pretty tall though not as tall as those two…where were they?

---

Out of all the places and times to run into Logan outside of school and/or hero training this would have been the perfect place but it was simply just the WORST time. Patton didn’t mind evenings out with his brothers, he liked spending time with them and the outings were usually fun. Their antics, specifically Alex being troubling making dork while Georgie forcefully drags him out of trouble and Patton watches helplessly by the sidelines, were amusing at best but annoying most of the time.

Don’t get Patton wrong, he loved his brothers with all his heart but sometimes they (*cough*Alex*cough*) had no shame what-so-ever. Great for Georgie who wasn’t afraid of a few staring eyes when pulling his brothers out of trouble, not great for Alex who is such a drama queen he makes Roman look tame. Outing with his brothers were not meant to be witnessed by anyone but the strangers of Manhattan who they’ll never see again, NOT cute boys that Patton kind of sort of had a crush on.

Patton gave Logan and his brother his best smile, though it was very obviously forced, “Excuse me.”

He quickly whizzed around to face his brothers, forced smile still displayed on his face, “I heard you the first time Alex, everyone could.”

Alex, who was hazardously draped over Georgie’s shoulder like a sack of flour, simply pouted as he wiggled out of his elder brother’s grip, “Just making sure, you seemed distracted. Who’re the nerds?”

Georgie smacked Alex across the head, “Be polite.”

“Ow, geez,” Alex whined, rubbing his sore skull “you can kill someone with those hands Georgie. Like in that movie Green House!”

“Green Mile.” Georgie corrected cooly.

Alex snapped his fingers, “That’s the one, anyway, back to the nerds.” Another smack “Ow, hey! I didn’t mean it, it was a joke! See they ain’t bothered!”

Patton took a deep and steady breath as he turned back to the Quinn brothers with an embarrassed smile, “Logan, Morgan, these are my older brothers: Georgie and Alex. Georgie and Alex, this is my friend Logan and his older brother, Morgan. They came to watch the space show too.”

Georgie nodded while Alex gave a false salute, “Sup.”

“How do you do?” Logan said politely as he and his brother stuck out their hands to shake.

Georgie was quick to shake both their hands as was Alex but he paused when he got to Logan, leaning down to intensely stare at him. Patton wanted to scream, truly he did, but that would just let Alex figure everything out that much quicker as well as cause a scene.

“Logan, huh,” Alex hummed as he leaned forward and Logan visibly gulped as he leaned back “where have I heard that name before? I know you ain’t related to that Paul guy from YouTube because you actually look respectable.”

Patton slapped a hand over his face, “Oh my god…”

“He’s one of the boys in the club Pat’s help make.” Georgie said helpfully, not at all fazed by his brother’s borderline interrogation on poor Logan.

“Oh yeah,” Alex nodded, finally letting go of Logan’s hand and giving him proper personal space “you guys made that, uh…what’s the politically correct term for this? I don’t wanna offend anyone.”

“To late.” Patton mumbled grimly.

“LGBTQ+ Youth Group.” Georgie provided.

“Jesus that’s a mouth full,” Alex sighed before pondering once more “nah, but other then that I swear I heard Patton mention that name before just…can’t remember.”

Patton sighed in relief, Thank god!

“Wait I know!” Alex exclaimed.

Shit!

Alex became giddy with excitement, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that just spelled doom for Patton. “He’s that bo – mmhf!”

Georgie was swift yet casual as he slapped a large hand over Alex’s mouth and began to drag him away, “The show is starting soon, we should grab seats together.”

Internally Patton was crying, Georgie was a saint and he definitely deserved a special cake baked in his honor. Externally Patton sighed tiredly once more, giving Logan and Morgan an apologetic smile. “Sorry about them, well, mainly Alex. He’s…a lot sometimes.”

Morgan shrugged, “Brothers, what can you do about them? This guy was a terror when he was younger, he would use his diapers as – oof!” Morgan groaned in pain as Logan elbowed him in the stomach, eyes shut in annoyance and left brow twitching.

Patton giggled, glad not to be the only one being teased by his older brothers, “Older brothers huh?”

“Quite unfortunate are we, huh?” Logan chuckled breathlessly.

“Seriously, what are mom and dad feeding you? I almost puked my guts out!” Morgan wheezed.

---

This was a terrible idea! This was a terrible, awful idea! Why did Thomas think this was a good idea? Why was he even listening to Patton’s advice, he was pretty sure the kid was mostly joking? But here her was at that same damn alley way, in civilian clothes, looking across the street into a familiar little coffee shop with a familiar red headed barista taking down orders behind the register. Thomas groaned, scrubbing his heads over his face, he looked like a fucking stalker, seriously!

He had convinced himself to take a quick brake before heading out on patrol again, maybe grab a cup of coffee to wake him up a bit. It wasn’t his fault the shop just so happened to be near by and hey if that cute guy just so happened to be working there at this time it wasn’t like a big deal. It wasn’t like he knew who Thomas was so he could just be casual, order a coffee, strike up a conversation, nothing big. But now he was here across the street and he saw the guy smile and laugh at something his co-worker said and Thomas just got weak in the knees.

“Why am I here?” Thomas groaned, leaning back against the grimy alley wall “I don’t even know his name! All I know is that he can’t seem to stay out of trouble!”

He looked back into the coffee shop, it seemed to be a slow day, only three or so customs lounging around in the sitting area as cute red head wiped down the counter. Okay, so the good news was there wasn’t much people so Thomas didn’t have to rush when he inevitably stuttered out his order. Bad news was he still had to muster up the courage to go in and talk to him and that was never gunna happen.

It was then he noticed a shady looking guy walk past him and across the street, his hood flipped up and shoulders scrunched in. He looked like the typical grumpy New Yorker that only seemed threatening but Thomas is spidy sense told him otherwise. Plus, he was definitely not hiding that gun, which was tucked in the back of his jeans like some stupid idiot wanna-be gang member, very well.

Thomas was quick to sprint across the street without the hoodlum seeing him, just beating him to the door by a moment. Thomas swung the door open at about half strength smacking the criminal right in the face. An audible crack was heard sending the criminal falling backwards with a bloody nose and maybe a minor concussion. Thomas made sure to ham up his clumsy civilian act.

“Oh gosh man! I’m so, so sorry!” Thomas gasped, helping the man up right with the intention of sneaking a hand around to disarm the gun “Are you alright?”

“Do I fucking look alright you stupid idiot!” The man snapped, much to distracted with the pain of his face to notice the faint clicking noises behind him. Talyn had shown Thomas how to dismantle a gun with one hand their freshman year of college, he doesn’t know why they know that but he’s thankful for it because it makes his job so much easier.

“Sorry dude, can I do anything to help?” Thomas asked in an artificially sweet voice.

“No, fuck off!” The man growled, quick to turn head with his tail between his legs, embarrassed by job never done.

Thomas watched him leave down the alley way, depositing the bullet clip he swiped into a nearby trash bin before heading inside. He noticed the speckles of blood on the glass door as he entered and grimaced with guilt. Once fully through Thomas finally noticed that the red head was staring at him and it dawned on him that he probably witnessed the whole ordeal and though he was a clumsy oaf.

“Uh, sorry about the door,” Thomas said, rubbing a hand behind his neck “If you got some paper towels, I’ll, uh, clean it up for you guys if you want?”

The red head’s eyes were wide with shock, steel blue eyes piercing into Thomas is soul, “That guy was gunna mug us.”

Thomas sputtered in response, “Uh, he – um…”

“I saw him across the street openly stalking the café all day today,” The red head scoffed “he wasn’t really subtle about it. He was probably waiting for us to wind down for the night.”

“Wait,” Thomas squinted suspiciously “if you knew he was gunna rob the place why didn’t you call the police?”

The red head rolled his eyes, “We did, but to them he wasn’t doing anything wrong until now. Stupid cops…” He smiled charmingly “but you came down here pretty quick and practically bashed his skull in. What are you, some sort of vigilante?”

“N-no!” Thomas gulped “I-it’s just I…I saw his gun and I couldn’t just stand there!”

“Well, you could have gotten yourself hurt too.” The red head countered.

Thomas gave a breathless chuckle, “Trust me, I’m not as defenseless as most people think I am.”

The red head giggled, placing his chin to the palm of his hand, “Oh yeah?”

“If it helps, I disarmed his gun before anything?” Thomas said bashfully, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

The red head’s eyes went wide again, “What, did you do it with one hand?”

“Yeah?” Thomas said hesitantly, this guy was way more observant then Thomas previously thought “If you wanna check, the gun clip is still in the trash bin.”

The red head laughed joyously, a beautiful melody to Thomas is ears, “You really are something! So, what can I get my hero tonight? On the house of course.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to bother-” Thomas began only to get cut off by another joyful laugh “Bother all you want, you just saved my ass from being mugged.”

“It was no trouble,” Thomas shrugged, a goofy smile surely on his face “it-it really wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well it was a big deal to me, practically saved my life,” The red head smiled, grabbing a large cup and a sharpie “so what’s your name Tiger?”

Thomas’s stomach filled with a million butterflies at the mention of the familiar nickname before clearing his extremely dry throat, “Uh…Thomas…Sanders.”

The red head paused a moment, sharpie delicately poised over the edge of the coffee cup as he chewed over his bottom lip in thought. A ghost of a smile formed across his face, that seemed very familiar now that Thomas thought about it, giving out a breathless laugh. “Thomas Sanders, huh?”

“Uh, yeah?” Thomas knew that he got recognized often but by fans but it was usually by his face not by his name. Not to sound vain or anything but a lot of times he didn’t need to tell people who he was for them to recognize him. But this guy didn’t seem like he was a fan…still, he looked vaguely familiar.

“Well, I’m MJ, in case you didn’t notice.” He pointed to the name tag on his chest that Thomas was now just recognizing because he was too gay to look at anything else but this guys cute face.

“What does that stand for?” Thomas asked curiously.

He paused again before that same smile returned to his face, “Matthew Jones…Watson.”

“Matthew Jones Watson,” Thomas said aloud, rolling the words of his tongue as if testing out how they sound in his voice “MJ…I like it.”

And obviously that was a stupid thing to say aloud because it made him sound like some sort of weirdo who goes around judging names. But MJ giggled, light and airy, with a smile that could light up all of Manhattan. “Thanks…I’m glad.”

Tags: (sorry if it doesn’t work, Tumblr is stupid)

@immortaldystopia @metaphoricalpluto2 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @misunderstood-shadow @fairytailtwists @0callmevirge0 @blenderkit17 @galaxy-lilies-main @lumi-1 @paint-in-flames @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @superwholocked-for-life @generalfandomfabulousness @oakskull@scarletnoiryt @softnic @asiagotea3890 @enteryourfandomhere @saltwithrandomfandoms @ninjago2020 @average-human @hecksupremeart @teepee-honesty @perfectly-precautiously-gay @a-weirdo-with-a-computer @itsashtronomy @khadij-al-kubra @maryjanewolf @icequeenoriginal @ocs-and-chapters @lilyfond @palepanfandomtrash @always-in-a-fandom @boxofsushi

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders side fic #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #prinxiety #spiderverse au #tobashiarg!

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heavensentgohansrage · 5 years

Text

Sunflower Marimo

PG-13, 4958 words

Fluff and Crack, Magical Seeds

AO3

So in this post on my main blog I gushed over this adorable work by @kingofalltsunfish and sorta made a promise to write it for her lol

It may have happened almost over two years ago, and the art itself is even much older than that, but I knew I had to do it.

Even if the outcome is all over the place for so many reasons, it’s better now then never.

Sanji has been howling with laughter for the last half an hour, as he keeps understanding more and more the reason behind Zoro’s strange behaviour.

Ever since returning back to the ship at almost the middle of the night, Zoro has refused to leave Chopper’s infirmary, where he has spent the night instead of the boys’ quarter. Then, all throughout breakfast, he proceeded in arguing with Nami about his mysterious need to turn the Sunny against the location of the sun - or, in words of people who actually know how direction works, to turn west - even though the Log Pose is directing to north-east.

Nami eventually agreed, even though he refused to give any explanation whatsoever. Then, it was only when he checked - through more than one window, because, you know, safety first - that the shadows outside were stretched in alignment with the ship’s structure that he rushed from the galley and through the short way that the infirmary created to the backside of the ship.

The crew’s excitement as they followed right after him was short, though, as it turned out he simply had to pee. Looking at each other, the group asked Franky to check if there was something wrong with the ship - although it did not explain Zoro’s secrecy about it - but he quickly found out that everything was just fine.

It was just then when Zoro finally went out, but slowly so, as he opened the door way too carefully, and even then took his time to look around, clearly making sure the ship was still facing the same way as he had asked for. Weirdly enough, it suddenly was not good enough for him to get out, but just shouted that they could now turn it back.

Before Sanji could tell him once more that Nami-san is not one to order around like that, though, Luffy stretched his hand all the way to him, assuring that he would make it quicker for him- and pulled Zoro’s shirt back to him without sparing him a moment to object.

Zoro, as usual, crushed right at Luffy and most of the rest, like Robin-chan, who Sanji had the utmost pleasure to pull away; but as he was bathing in the delight for having her thanking him that, suddenly he heard Zoro grunting.

The instinct to stand guard for his Nakamas overcoming any other nature of his as usual, Sanji cut his blessings off right away and turn to the Marimo-head, who was gritting his teeth and shaking with effort, although there was nothing visible to be affecting him.

Usopp and Luffy were arguing with one another, seemingly sensing nothing themselves, but Sanji activated his Haki anyway, in case some Devil Fruit power was casting on him from afar.

“What are you doing, dumb Cook?”

Sanji blinked back at Zoro, who, weirdly enough, looked completely fine as he was standing quiet and still. Had he seriously stolen his attention for nothing? Was it all just about some stupid bet he filled, considering Zoro never backs down from a promise he makes?

Sanji frowned. “You gotta be kidding me- you weren’t okay just a second ago! Just what’s wrong with you today that you’re acting more weirdly than usual?!”

There was a flash of realization in Zoro’s eye, and suddenly he was giving him the kind of smirk he always has when he uses Sanji to his advantage, although usually it is only for his amusement. “Me? I’m completely fine. You’re the one who imagines things. See?” He stretched his arms to the sides and walked backwards, as though to give Sanji a better look of his entire body.

But then he walked right into Nami, who had returned from the helm on the front of the ship to their side.

“Not only you didn’t watch your mouth that entire morning, but now you don’t even mind crossing others’ paths?!” She rebuked him.

“Yeah, how dare you running into Nami-san so carelessly?” Sanji followed with a yell of his own.

Zoro tsked and scratched his head in annoyance, but Sanji cared even less than the indifferent he would have been anyway about him being sandwiched between the two of them.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She demanded, holding Zoro’s sides and turning him to her.

Zoro grunted again, this time like she was straining all the muscles in his body just by rotating him on his axis. Startled, Nami let go of him- but simply realizing her hands was like letting go of a swing that was spun 180 degrees, as in an instant he was turning his back on her, facing against the backside of the ship.

Everyone silently stared at him for a while, until Chopper started freaking out of the blue.

“Is it- Could it be- Th-that’s bad! Where’s the doctor?!”

“Calm down Chopper and tell us what’s wrong!” Usopp entreated him tiredly.

“Ahh, sorry!” Chopper circled Zoro, who still did not bother to change his position back, to be able to face him. “Zoro, yesterday when we split in the island and you wandered by yourself, did you come across sunflower seeds, or something similar, while exploring the island?”

“Yeah, I helped some old lady carrying her groceries, then the garden kept leading me to her backyards where there were flower plots, so it tempted me to try some. Why?”

Sanji felt a squeeze inside his stomach, but just like every time Zoro’s words affected him like that, he made himself to ignore it. He should know better than react that way to such an idiot who would not admit he got lost in a porch, for fuck’s sake.

“Then it is serious!” Chopper squealed and put both paws on his face.

Sanji patted him on his head, trying to soothe him as much as he could. “What it is then?”

“I’ve noticed the sunflowers here are a rare species of a clan-type.”

“Clan-type?” Robin parroted him with an inauspicious voice.

Chopper nods. “It is kind of plants which try to make other living beings to become like them instead of naturally reproducing. Luckily, this species is too weak to actually make a human into a flower, and maybe this is why the locals allowed themselves to grow them for their beauty. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t succeed to leave any effect at all.”

“Eh? But he still looks normal!” Luffy wondered as he searched for anything outstanding all over Zoro’s body, who was losing his patience by the minute.

“Didn’t you notice? As long as he sees it, Zoro can only face the sun!”

Sanji cannot help himself but losing it.

For the following days, Zoro spends even more of the day in the crow’s nest. He even stops looking for booze, too, as he has to make sure he drinks just as much as his body needs to deal with the amount of sweat he perspires during his workout, so unlike the first morning he will be able to hold it until the sun is down, when he finally can go out.

Since Nami asked Sanji so, he prepares breakfast for Zoro earlier than everyone, just before the sun is up, and delivers him lunch while everyone eats inside the galley.

Sanji understands it is serious, especially as out on the sea, the next battle can happen at any given moment; not only everyone will have to have Zoro’s back, the proud bastard will not even let them cover for him that easily himself.

In the meantime, though, he still takes advantage of that to make fun of Zoro every time. He cannot be blamed for not being able to stay quiet with a - now literally - moss-for-brain guy, who could not even figure out himself that the sunflower seeds he has eaten just before it all started were the reason for it.

As the sunflowers act the way they do because they know what is best for themselves, even without consciousness, that man is officially dumber than a plant.

“Enjoy your meal- unless you’re already full by photosynthesis,” he wishes him the first time he brings him lunch.

“It’s exactly noon, so make sure to warn us when you sense a Knock-Up Stream, South Bird,” he cheerfully remarks another time as he brings him a snack.

“Maybe you should consider renaming this one after Thousand Sunny instead,” he notes at one of the time he comes back to take the dishes, while Zoro was practising the movement of the 1080 Pound Ho technique with weights.

For the last bad pun Sanji actually has to dodge an attack directed at him, and each time it is still worth it. After all, if he has somehow spent the entire first day under the effect of the seeds facing the sun, which allowed him to find the right path back to the ship even later than usual, without getting his face burn- then at least Sanji can amuse himself by attempting getting his face red himself.

Although while not finding it as cute as it is amusing, of course. Not at all.

At any case, the rest of the crew takes their part in toying with the current member to get into an unfortunate situation, so Sanji is afraid he will soon run out of original good material himself - only Usopp, for example, has used up anything clever you could make with a comparison to the Sunlight Tree Eve - but that until Chopper gets concerned about the lack of vitamin D Zoro will soon suffer from, as it is not clear when the effect will go away, and orders him to take his naps outside.

Luffy and Usopp get bored of it quickly, as the sun moves too slowly for the direction Zoro’s head leans to noticeably enough, but Sanji still manages to entertain himself with trying to guess the time according to the direction Zoro’s head is tilted to.

But that also means he stares at him more as he sleeps, and perhaps Sanji does more damage to himself than good while suddenly noticing how beautiful Zoro’s face are, once he is too peaceful to distract Sanji with some sort of annoyance. It even exposes some of his soft side he usually does not show, well hidden behind the stiffness the usually carries himself with.

Sanji is reminded of one of those rare times, where they got stuck with each other as circumstances made them split together from the rest of the crew; as they walked by a small waterfall, Sanji’s eyes caught a small rainbow it created. He got closer to make it illuminate over his hand, and only by luck Zoro was still not that far away once he raised his head to look for him. He called him, intentionally to warn him to not drift away- but was then surprised when the swordsman not only was marvelled once he noticed Sanji’s his finding, but was interested enough that he got closer to take a better look, touching Sanji’s hand in the process. Sanji somehow avoided jerking away, but it did make his gaze to lock on the full exposure of Zoro’s long, moss-green eyelashes as he was looking down. The way their arcs were as perfectly round as the sincere, more unalloyed than his katanas smile stretching beneath them caught Sanji’s breath. He had seen him smiling astonishedly like that before, like when they arrived at Water 7, but had never thought he would have ever care to share it with him.

Then the singular hazel eye looked back at him, which may have carried less variety of shades than a rainbow, but the natural phenomenon still had nothing in comparison to the depth and strength of the overall tone.

Okay, that is it, he should stop wasting time on bittersweet memories and focus on important issues, especially those which will actually grant him happiness, like making drinks for the ladies.

He manages to actually lose those previous thoughts in his new occupation, that he even manages to not pay attention to Zoro as he leaves a drink beside him, and passes him to Nami and Robin- the only targets that should matter.

And that is why it takes another whole day for anyone to notice that he became the one according to whom Zoro’s body changes the angle it is facing, overcoming even the sun’s position, whenever he is near him.

“Best. Development. Ever!” Usopp cries, rolling on the ship’s lawn while holding his sides.

“How the hell having our Swordsman losing control over his body is a good development?!” Nami scolds after him.

Luffy, who has been crossing the grass back and forth just like Usoop, suddenly clashes into the other- but it does not stop the two of them to bark out in yet another wave of laughter.

“We should find a yellow ball on the next island to throw at the Marines so he could fight them,” their Captain finally suggests.

“Great idea, so very helpful,” Nami sighs as she walks up to the duo to give them their justified punches.

Sanji has never had any special thought about his hair, really - unlike someone else’s, it is actually a completely normal one - but that situation makes him to actually wish it was not yellow.

Not that it means he plans to dye it to anything else, of course.

“Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?!” Chopper waves his arms helplessly, and jumps for a good effort. “It can’t be about Sanji’s hair resembling the sun!”

Zoro groans. “Either way, Cook- why don’t you go there too so I can give them a piece of my mind too!”

“Tch, good-for-nothing Marimo.” Sanji lights up a cigarette as he remains standing. “Now I won’t be able to stand close to either Nami-san or Robin-chan, for who knows how long, in case you’ll hurt them accidentally.”

“Won’t happen as long as you don’t give me a reason to try going after you, Ero-Cook.”

Sanji jumps in front of Zoro at once, pressing him against the wall with his foot on his chest. “You mean you actually won’t even try to control yourself when you have a lady in view?!”

Zoro holds his leg and tries to shove it off of himself, but that also means he has to try incline to another way; as he is physically not able to face a point even a little skewed from the one Sanji is at, an attempt like that is clearly utterly impossible- or at least looks to be as painful as trying to twist one’s hand beyond its maximum flexibility point.

Sanji smirks triumphantly. “Well, at least you finally won’t be able to ignore the truth anymore while it is standing right in your face.”

“What truth? That your women-obsession is a much more ridiculous sickness than mine?”

“What was that - ?!“

“ - Didn’t you hear me? I told you to stop it!” Chopper, in his grown Heavy Point form, comes to stand aside them and force Sanji to step back. “I finally figured it out- it’s adrenaline!”

“Huh?”

“His body can't absorb light, so it searched for the next closest thing- something that drives itself to accelerate energy creation through cellular respiration, and I think it found it in the rush of adrenaline Zoro has been triggered to experience during all the times you angered him recently. You’ve teased him more than everyone when you came every day to bring him his meals.”

“That might be true,” Brook comments, “but when we tried earlier, Zoro was back to being attracted to the sun whenever Sanji was gone out of his sight. Even while searching for alternatives, it still doesn’t solve the original problem.”

“That’s true,” Chopper nods, “but I still think that it’s still progress. Soon his body will understand that the best way to get energy is through food alone, and will teach itself to get over that added instinct, just like there are a lot of instincts the human body forgets as we grow up.”

All the while they discuss this, Zoro has his eye closed so he will not have to stare directly as Sanji, who knows that he will not be able to get on with it for long himself. While he is currently not the one to be stuck in a state he cannot get away from, it can soon be him if Zoro will start finding things he could use to his disadvantage, like that time he caught him off-guard by the waterfall.

“Anyway, I’ll go hang back at the galley, where I better keep staying out of the zone of staring creepers,” he declares as he starts making his way back to the kitchen, even though it is too early for any dinner preparations.

“Like having to look at your swirly eyebrows the entire day doesn’t creep me out,” Zoro murmurs as his body spins in accordance with Sanji’s advance, which Sanji senses on his back way too well. Another roar of laughter commences, but is cut short as Sanji finally closes the door behind him- living the two boys in the direction of the sun fully exposed to the Swordsman’s range of attack.

Sanji puffs out smoke in relief. Being away from a compassionless eye constantly following and judging him, now he can finally think clearly: while he does not turn down Chopper’s speculation completely, Sanji still has a feeling there is something else that Zoro’s instincts connect between the sun and himself, even if not the shared colour.

Going over any association he has about the sun which he can somehow be also linked to him, he finds quicker than he would think an idea with a considerable possibility, and he is not happy when the solution he comes out with intensifies it on his face.

Unless he comes out with a better idea, though, or somehow he will be miraculously proven wrong even before that- he knows he will have no choice but to try it.

He waits until the next day’s sunrise, since the last dinner’s attempt has proven that Sanji still affects him even after the sun has sunk completely below the horizon, to the point the cook had to go out of his own kitchen to let him eat in peace.

While Zoro technically can get around with his eye closed whenever Sanji is visible to him, his lack of sense of direction for sure will take a disastrous turn.

Chopper volunteered to carry his next meals - Luffy tried to too, but everyone was too smart than letting him touch food that is not on his own plate - and Sanji hopes that it will not be the only excuse to not have to see Zoro, well, just about ever again in case he is wrong.

Sanji takes his morning preparation slower than usual, but inevitably, the time eventually arrives.

Despite peeking inside his pack of cigarettes, to make sure it is not empty, he throws the one he has smoked until that moment without taking a new one; he will have to face this situation head-on.

Getting out, he moon-walks his way to the crow’s nest.

Probably sensing him in advance, Zoro is standing where he can match the line of the sun, shining through the window, while having his back to the entrance when Sanji makes its way through.

“There’s no need to test it again every day, so just leave,” Zoro asserts.

Sanji sighs, as he for once wants to listen to Zoro so much. “Not before I try something I’ve thought about.”

“And since when do you have good ideas?”

Sanji crosses his arms. “When I rescued you from Crocodile’s cage? When I delayed Enel’s ark by attacking his engines before facing him? When I opened Enis Lobby’s Gates of Justice? Starting to find a pattern yet, human-plant? ”

A few beats pass, but finally Zoro’s shoulders slump with a sigh. “Fine, you have good strategies, but only when you’re unseen. Isn’t that part of the pattern too?”

“There’s no point if I don’t return to the light again, as much as you hate it.” Sanji rounds Zoro to meet a suspicious, unwelcoming eye that hopefully only hides the truth he has once witnessed from it, back at the waterfall. “Supposedly.”

“Eh - ?” Zoro opens his mouth to utter, luckily, and by that makes the task easier for Sanji, as he can immediately use it to grab his face and meshed his own mouth to his.

Zoro tries to hum something, but Sanji has to make sure he acts as thoroughly as possible before he is thrown away through the window, and with each press of lips tries his best to make a profound contact, so the instinct holding Zoro captive will not be able to miss it.

Once overcoming his initial surprise, Zoro starts to react back with just as much force, not willing to let him take full leading so easily.

Instead of relief, like any normal person would feel for the cooperation, Sanji actually enjoys it. Thanks to becoming breathless, though, he does not have to face the painful temptation stretch it further than needed.

He somehow remembers then that he should check the results, as it was nothing but an experiment, and start jumping between different spots around Zoro.

“What the hell?” Zoro gasps, his head moving back and forth as he tries to catch a glimpse of him.

Grinning, Sanji stands right behind him and shifts him around. “It worked!”

Zoro blinks, but then stares out of the window he is now facing, which is finally not the wrong one to him, but just another window. A smile that only a free man can make is slowly drawn across his face, and he even releases a rare laugh that pulls at Sanji’s stomach much more than it should.

“How did you know what to do?” Zoro asks him.

Sanji slowly lets go of Zoro, eyes darting elsewhere. He clears his throat and lights up a cigarette, at long last.

“Unlike what Chopper said, I don’t think I annoyed you to the point your instinct will see me as a trigger to create energy, but that your body made it figure out that this is a human body, and you need the sun mainly for warmth- although it is something you get more effectively by a contact with someone else.” Sanji walks over to a window, although not one where the sun is seen; he is not that cold. “I’m the one who happens to touch you the most, during our quarrels, so I figured that was the reason you fixed on me, so I wanted to make sure you felt my warmth as effectively as possible.”

“Body warmth, huh…” Zoro mutters behind him.

They fall into silence, which Sanji desperately wants to get away from, but has no idea how to get out. Going near Zoro, ironically, has become intolerable.

“No, it’s both,” Sanji suddenly hears the other man says behind him, following by footsteps coming closer.

Sanji takes a long drag on his cigarette, and closes his eyes.

“Whether I liked it or not, you’ve been central in my life on this ship. All the times you got me to heat up, you influenced me to train even harder. I don’t depend on it, but by this point, it is almost as vital for me as the sense of Nakamaship I’ve developed."

Sanji huffs. “The point was that you’re a muscle-brain anyway.”

“Shut up, dumbass. I’ve simply persisted to one specific path - ”

This time, Sanji snorts.

“ - which made it hard for me to see alternative ones,” Zoro finishes explaining his insight, although a bit too annoyed for someone who has experienced one. It is not like Sanji want to ruin this moment for Zoro, but he has to get back on track, right after messing with their status quo.

This is how they communicate, and this is how it shall stay. Being able to fantasize a much more meaningful future with him than with anyone he has ever attempted to attach himself to does not matter.

“But since you keep trying multiple ones for no reason,” Zoro suddenly continues, “maybe combining to find a balance it will make you finally stop pretending like another person is better than you just by being born with the right set of milk glands.”

Sanji snaps his eyes open at that, forgetting all about his discomfort he has felt until just a second ago and coming forehead-to-forehead with Zoro. “Oi, just because you don’t appreciate that doesn’t mean you can talk about it like its speciality is unadmirable like that green head of yours.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is- you can keep pampering women, if it makes you happy like cooking for anyone regardless of gender. But you can’t let this cost your self-worth.”

The smoke from Sanji’s cigarette blocks his view, so he takes it out of his mouth for now. “Well, you did help to raise it during the last few days while I was constantly reminded of that stupid mistake you’ve done on a whim that I’ll never do, and I don’t see how cherishing women is beneath that. Then what do you suggest?”

“Blocking your path and see what you do about it.”

Before Sanji knows it, Zoro’s palms are on the back of his head and he is being pushed forward until their lips meet again, though this time for something simpler that still leaves the both of them frozen to their spot for the few seconds it lasts.

Shocked, Sanji tries to connect the different points that brought them to this- because if he has kissed Zoro to help him break through the seeds’ effect, Zoro has to have his own legitimate reason for this. He may not be dumb enough to force him like that to stop his so-called women problem, but it is too surreal for him that it could be what it looks to mean. How could anyone want him and yet trust him so much that they will not care about his admiring attitude toward others?

But Zoro’s eye, while not looking at him as tenderly as one would expect from someone with sentimental meanings behind this kind of action, is assuring it in his own way by staring at him with his frank, unreserved expression.

“Finally it looks like I'm the only one who was warmed,” Zoro smirks as he trails his fingers on Sanji’s burning cheeks.

“Shut up, shitty bastard,” Sanji murmurs as he flicks his hand away, but ultimately let Zoro’s fingers to comb some of his shiny hairs.

“Same to you, asshole.”

~~~

Finally able to enjoy the sun properly, Zoro thinks back to the period of his life as a wanderer, where many times he had to walk under the warmth of the sun with hunger eating him from the inside.

Later, soon after joining Luffy’s crew, not only he did not have to worry about that- but he could actually build muscle more effectively, with no worry that his body would resist it- all thanks to one pesky, obnoxious cook coming abroad.

Even if there was a proper way to truly return him the favour, Zoro is not one to express that deep kind of gratitude directly, obviously, but since he happens to be the first one to get back to the ship from a stroll, for a change - even while the sun already barely presents in the sky - and only Sanji is there, as he stayed to look after the ship, he still wants to communicate it somehow.

He finds him leaning against the railing, watching the sea, and does not turn around as Zoro gets closer. The latter embraces him from behind with one hand, and turning his hair aside with the other so he could mouth the skin behind his ear.

Sanji sunk in a sharp breath, but his voice is mostly levelled when he speaks. “Are you bored?”

Despite Sanji is still uncertain about what they have started, as it is still too fresh for him- Zoro keeps being patient about it as usual: “No.”

“Then what's that about?”

Zoro smirks into his skin. “Isn't it clear by now? Disturbing you is always too tempting.”

“I thought you prefer doing that by picking on me until we start fighting.”

“Maybe, but that's when your mood is neutral.” He slowly nips his ear shell. “Now you're peaceful.”

Sanji is right by most probably figuring out that Zoro does not really have romantic moods, where all he wants is to be the man who initiates nice settings. He is a spontaneous kind of guy: he lets life lead him to find in a new island’s market something that the cook would like to receive only by a chance, and will not pull him to a place with unconventional, noteworthy settings, whatever that counts as, as letting it naturally occur around them is much better.

Just like waterfall creating a rainbow.

But when something reminds him of Sanji, he simply cannot help but look for him, no matter whether they end up trying to tear each other’s throats - and no matter what, there are still times where the cook makes him see red - or other behaviours that have to do with their proximity which feeds his satisfaction.

Because, as great as watching the sharpness in his eyes every time he uses an opportunity to drive him up the wall- being absorbed in the warmth of his smell and taste is quite remarkable, too.

“Sun's coming down,” Sanji mentions latterly.

Zoro hums into his shoulder agreement, even though he could care less about it so long Sanji is still there.

#zosan #zosan ficlet #my writing #marimo!zoro #plant!zoro

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musings-on-bucky-barnes · 5 years

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Q&A Part 3 with Owlet about The Infinite Coffee & Protection Detail series

Here is Part the Third of Owlet answering questions about The Infinite Coffee & Protection Detail series and also about her other writing. Some of the questions are from readers of the first Q&A, and some come from a Tumblr post of suggested questions for writers.

Warning for discussion of rape.

OWLET'S NOTE:

Thanks for all the cheers and good wishes on part 2! I'm glad people think the behind-the-scenes stuff is interesting and not just me being a windbag.

I was delighted that so many of you seem interested in my novel! It's not available anywhere yet: I still have to find an agent, and who knows how the heck long that's going to take? (I am NOT cut out for self-publishing.) But I certainly hope it'll find a home. If you want to keep up with me on tumblr (vmohlere) or twitter (virginiamohlere), I assure you that when such time comes, I will scream about it a LOT.

Pink floaty hearts, y'all.

Reader questions:

From EssayOfThoughts:

I know that you say that you like to imagine AOU doesn't exist, but I will admit (because I find Wanda deeply compelling and the twins story as a whole very interesting) that I've wondered a lot about how your Bucky would deal with the Maximoff twins? Like, on the one hand there's Wanda's ability to mess with minds, which he'd hate, but simultaneously (at least according to the AOU prelude comic) the twins was effectively radicalised by HYDRA while they were pretending to be SHIELD and expected to be their weapons which is not wholly dissimilar to Nat or Bucky. So if you're willing to acknowledge AOU just enough to ponder this I'd really like to know your thoughts! If not, of course, I understand.

Wanda’s not a character I’ve given much thought to. You’re right that her abilities would freak Barnes out. But he has a strict policy of observation before reaction, so he would give them a chance. And they’re so young (and so broken) that his protective instincts would kick in. I think they could probably count on some wary kindness, along with a dose of irritation at Pietro’s shenanigans.

From Ev42:

Thing I can't stop thinking about today: babies. Specifically, Bucky + baby = ???

I personally am a sucker for "Steve knows nothing, Bucky's a pro" thing re: babies. Mix that up with the Mission and the Briefing and what would we get? I keep think about, idk, maybe Sam has a niece or nephew, or one of the Olds has a grandchild or grandniece or something, and I just really want your thoughts on Bucky + baby... Please?

Barnes would be too worried about inadvertently hurting an infant to be willing to touch one, though he likes the directness of slightly older kids.

If in the presence of Steve trying to deal with an infant, the Briefing would definitely have a lot of commentary about everything he was doing wrong.

From Fred1085:

I guess if I had one question though it would be: Do you always see Bucky existing as Barnes, the Briefing, and the Mission, or do you see a time in his future in which those aspects of him would be more integrated. Not through the magical Asgaridan science, but through his own force of will/healing?

He definitely does become more integrated over time. The Mission is a protective identity, and as he needs it less, it recedes. The Briefing is literally his memories, which he does recover many of over time, though that’s a long and painful process. There’s a lot of regression throughout the long-term forward progress. But he keeps some of the habits, like “confirm” and “deny.”

MusingsOnBuckyBarnes:

After “This, You Protect”, the Mission went to ground so to speak for a bit and Bucky was distressed at its loss, at it not communicating with him. But over time as he heals and it recedes, he wouldn’t be so upset?

Exactly. When the Mission’s going quiet is part of the organic process of healing, he misses it but isn’t upset by its loss.

From stentorian_lore_n:

Did Bucky and Steve ever make a donation to Sam's VA?? :)

Yes, of course! But Sam had to be bullied into buying a better chair for himself, because he wanted all the money to go to programs.

There’s a lot of red tape involved with how much money the center can receive in donations, so Steve & Bucky give that much each year, even much later, when Sam does in fact move to NYC to become an Avenger.

From englishghosts:

Also, since you're taking questions, I'd like to ask you something. (TW RAPE)

Although Bucky suffering sexual abuse and torture "for fun" during his time with HYDRA makes perfect sense in my head (70 years in the hands of powerful white men who had complete control over him, it's difficult to imagine nobody got ideas), especially with the imagery of the bank scene, it's something we don't see that often in fics outside certain areas of fandom. I'm really glad you included this, because for me it not only makes it more realistic, but also it brings an extra layer into Bucky reclaiming himself and being comfortable with touching and his feelings for Steve. So the question is what made you decide to include it in this fic?

Like you say, powerful men with a powerful man under their complete control, over the course of 70 years – to me, it’s a given that among the many abuses he suffered was sexual abuse. It was always part of the character, for me, one of the many layers that he needed to work through to reclaim both his body and his self.

I started to think that the romantic-physical relationship with Steve was an inevitable part of Barnes’s healing process, because he and Steve really just do love each other SO much. The more I thought about it, the more I could see that given the style that I’d set up, writing Barnes’s reactions to things kind of obliquely, would be SUPER FUN for writing about bodies and sex. I cackled my whole way through writing that section.

And, you know, there were a lot of commenters who were like “hey man where’s the smut?” – a few of them NOT SO NICELY. I’m glad I stuck it in its own section, though, because I know there are also a lot of people who like to only read the gen parts.

From Selkieinthesea:

How did you come up with the curses? My favorite is “Lenin’s pickled scrotum.” It makes me laugh every time I think of it. I’d use it, but I have toddlers so then I’d have to explain what pickling is, what a scrotum is and why you’d pickle one.

That is a mystery and a blessing from the part of my brain from which jokes arise. Every one of them delighted me. “Lenin’s pickled scrotum” hearkens back to college jokes in Russian History class about how they embalmed Lenin with a mixture of Twinkie filling and maraschino cherry juice, and of course scrotums are always hilarious, I don’t know how people who have them even deal.

from Ev42 (about the fic “Love Is for Children”):

Nicholas. Anything to do with Nick Fury? Bc I think that'd make his faking-my-death-without-telling-Natasha sting that much more. Ouch.

I'm trying to imagine how Nicholas meeting the gang would go. I... have no idea? Barnes would bake, of course, but what? The Olds would be happy. Barton already knows. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what the hurt/happy ratio for the rest would be

I actually have a tiny bit of this written out – it was originally going to be another piece of ICaPD, but I couldn’t get it to have any kind of arc to it, and the pacing was just BALLS.

Anyhow, yes, Nicholas is named after Nick Fury. His sperm donor is no one of import, and the only one of the Avengers who knows about him is Clint.

The snippet I never wrote involved Bad Guys kidnapping Nicholas & Steve/Barnes/Nat/Clint/Sam going on a rescue mission.

In this universe, Nat & Clint have a couple of Barton-Romanoffs, of whom Nicholas is the first (Clint adopts him). Tony & Pepper likewise have several kids in this universe.

The remaining questions are from a “Fanfiction Writer Asks” Tumblr post by criminal-minds-fanfiction:

Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I haven’t written a reader-insertish kind of thing since I wrote a Duran Duran scifi AU when I was 14 years old. Original characters are where it’s at.

What is your favourite genre to write for?

Fantasy, for sure. Tho romance tends to worm its way into most of my stuff.

If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

I think This, You Protect has better pacing than The Long Road Begins at Home, and writing it helped me fall back in love with writing.

If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Um. Maybe my Loki poem? Tho I don’t think it’s necessarily bad.

When is your preferred time to write?

First thing in the morning, tho I’m grateful to be able to write almost any time. In the past couple of years, I've gotten into writing into the notepad on my phone, so I literally write any- and everywhere.

Where do you take your inspiration from?

Absolutely everywhere.

In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote? [Any of your Bucky fics]

The chapter of Team-Building Exercises where Barnes & Pepper go to France is something I’m so proud of. I think I did pretty well with the action and the pacing in that one, and I love writing Pepper.

Their first Thanksgiving, with the Sandwich of Suffering, is also a favorite.

In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind? [The Long Road Begins at Home]

It was always going to go Thanksgiving to Thanksgiving.

If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

ARGH NAMES. What a pain. Second only to titles in terms of terribleness. I try to roll a few names around and chew on them until I find the one that feels right.

Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

I have notes for 3 more sections of Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail – one that’s pure fluff, one that’s an action scene, and one at the very end of their lives. But I dunno. For one thing, the last one is unbearably sad. And I don’t really have Barnes’s voice in my head anymore. I think it’s time to be done.

More about the action scene is answered in response to a reader question in the previous section. The Sad Ending is just too far off in tone that it doesn’t fit the series at all, so let’s leave it in a dark drawer. But Barnes & Steve live for a very long time and remain faithful to the successive generations of their Avengers family. And when they go, they reach the end of the line together.

The fluff scene is CAT JACK and will post on Friday, June 7. (it's not a full story, just a snippet)

Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

The epilogue chapter of This, You Protect has some cute jokes, but it’s pretty weird, and I kind of wish I’d left it off.

Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Depends on the day. I definitely like music when I’m Pondering, though.

How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

LOVE IT

Do people know you write fanfiction?

People know about my MCU fic, yes.

What’s your favourite minor character you’ve written?

That’s like asking about my favorite child!! Hill is definitely up there on the list, though. Hair Club in general was fun to have around.

Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

I wish I could remember what it was, but yes. That was really fun.

If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Smut, because I think the best smut is also really emotional, so it’s not like cutting out angst, fluff, or anything else.

xXx

The link to the full list of questions for fanfic writer is here:

http://criminal-minds-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/172926526725/fanfiction-writer-asks

(EDIT: link appears to be maybe-broken?)

#infinite coffee and protection detail #ic&pd #q&a #warning for discussion of rape #bucky barnes #owlet #reader questions

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supportforindieauthors · 5 years

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What are all these "author rules" we're supposedly breaking?

It happens at least once a week. I receive a newsletter in my inbox telling me about the top 10 rules I’m accidentally breaking as an author or the top 5 rules I should NEVER break as an author. . .

First of all, I haven’t published a book in 4 years, so I KNOW that I haven’t broken any of these rules recently, but I can’t help but wonder where all these rules are coming from and what’s going to happen if I’ve broken one of them. Is my college professor who ruled over her grammar class like a dictator going to show up and lock me in grammar prison?

Based on all these articles that I continue to receive on a weekly basis and read because I just can’t help myself, I have determined that these rules are nothing more than grammar, punctuation, and plot development suggestions to make publications feel important and needed.

Does that mean that these suggestions are bad? Not at all! In fact, if you find that they help you improve your writing, then that’s fantastic! But let’s not pretend like someone is going to lock away your book for all of eternity if you break one of these “rules.”

All of this being said, Riley and I thought we would review some of these rules and what we think about them as indie authors, and then we would go over a different kind of advice, one that is absolutely important for this day and age.

So let’s get started!

Always be consistent with point of view

Riley: Why is this a rule? I could never understand that. What better way to show two different points of view for differing characters. After all, what your narrator sees is different than your protagonist or antagonist.

Ann: I think this rule is more a reminder to the author to be conscious of how you’re speaking to your readers. Jumping around from first person to second person to even third person can be very jarring. That being said, if you have a creative reason for changing up your point of view, go with it! Let those creative juices flow and have fun with it.

Never start a story with the character waking up

Riley: This is just ridiculous. Our jobs as authors is to connect our characters with our readers. A simple way to do this is to use little actions we all use, like waking up.

Ann: Who are we (or who is anyone really) to tell you how to start your story? Each day we wake up is potentially a new start to something exciting, something traumatic, or something completely life changing. We have no idea. If that’s how you want to begin your work, you have every right to do so. There are a lot of books out there. To say that you have to be fully original in the way you begin you work is a tad ridiculous. Start it the way you want to start it. Be you. Don’t worry about whether or not it’s been “overdone.” Your work is unique to you. As long as you’re not plagiarizing, we won’t judge.

Never use adverbs, and especially not with speech tags

Riley: I get it, too many people use "like" all the time. That doesn't mean you should restrict creative juices. A few are fine, and I believe they enhance your work, as long as you don't carry them too far.

Ann: I think anything in moderation is fine. Honestly, the only reason to consider looking this in depth at your individual sentences and paragraphs is to intensify the action your characters are taking. If your work feel disjointed and a bit passive, then maybe you should look to this as a recommendation. But really, let’s all just calm down, shall we?

Never give main characters names that begin with the same letter

Ann: Sigh...So many of us authors feel the same way about our characters. They name themselves. We’re merely transcribing the story. It’s possible that some people who aren’t carefully reading your work will become confused, but the people who really care will be able to keep track of your characters as long as they’re memorable. I don’t even remember a time when I confused Eowyn with Arwen, even though they’re pretty similar. . .but my husband doesn’t even remember that there were two main female characters in Lord of the Rings. The people who are invested in your work will know the difference.

Riley: I really can't add anything to this. Besides, you should be striving to make your characters individual enough that you could almost name them all the same thing.

Never info dump

Ann: Info dumps can be beneficial. I think it’s important to keep it entertaining and make it pertinent to the plot, but when done well, I fully enjoy being caught up on what I need to know about the world an author has worked so hard to create.

Riley: Aye, exposition used in the correct way can really further your books. Look at how George RR Martin uses sex in his books. There are a ton of plot points dropped in between all the genitalia.

Kill your darlings (crutch phrases)

Riley: Actually I would tell you to do what your story tells you to. You never know when you'll suddenly be struck by an idea. Besides, if you really don't like it, take it out at editing time.

Ann: I think this is from Stephen King’s advice about the written work, but you can look at it from a variety of perspectives. If we’re talking about characters, you’re allowed to kill off any character you like - just have some good reasoning for it if it’s a particular fan favorite. (Looking at you George R.R. Martin) If we’re talking about crutch phrases, I think this is something to keep in mind just to ensure you’re not overusing a phrase. I recently listened to a podcast in which the interviewer used the phrase “100%” at least 30 times. Just be aware of the words you’re using. I don’t think there’s any set limit. Maybe your character has a favorite phrase that she or he uses consistently. Maybe it’s for comedic purposes. Regardless, do what works for your book.

Riley: And thus we see the joy of English. I took that rule literally!

Don’t use passive phrases

Riley: Passive phrasing has been a weakness of mine since I started writing. I don't think I'll ever be able to get over it, as I believe it offers versatility. I could be wrong, but I don't believe I am.

Ann: Why are suggestions often confused with rules? Don’t people realize that authors see the word “Don’t” as a challenge? Should we overuse passive phrases? Probably not as it makes for weak paragraphs and tends to make our readers feel left out of the action. But should we NEVER use it? That seems extreme. An occasional passive phrase isn’t going to sabotage your work.

Never open a book with weather

Riley: Again with the inane rules about how to start your book. Whatever the first words are that get you started and fit the story, they're the correct ones.

Ann: *rolls up sleeves* Is that a challenge? Seriously. DO. WHAT. YOU. WANT. Maybe your character is watching the incoming storm and thinking about how cliche it is that a storm would happen on THIS of ALL nights. As long as you’ve got a good hook, roll with it. A plot device can be used poorly or incredibly well. Just because some people have used it poorly doesn’t mean that you can’t use it to your advantage. I imagine that a lot of real life stories have begun with a turn in the weather.

Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue

& then Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said”

Ann: To quote John Locke, “DON’T TELL ME WHAT I CAN’T DO!” Seriously, let’s find a happy medium, shall we? I feel like I’m just repeating myself with each of these. An argument can be made either way. I try to use a variety of phrases and words and I’ve never felt that my work has suffered as a result of it.

Riley: Besides, I read somewhere that readers skip 90% of your dialogue tags. So what does it matter? Use what you want!

Avoid cliches

Ann: Do you know how many cliches there are out there? And do you know how often we identify with cliches because they are so common? One of my college professors would mark down our grades for any cliches used. She and I did not get along very well. Can cliches be used to your advantage? Yes, yes, absolutely, 100%, yes. Should you attempt to use every single cliche in one work? …. Again, that seems like a challenge...

Riley: Just look at a hero's journey. How many books are based off of this "cliche" idea. Remember, it's all in the eyes of the beholder.

Don’t attempt to use semicolons

Ann: We have so many resources at our disposal. Do your research. Learn to understand, love, and utilize the semicolon. The internet is vast. If my husband can learn to install a toilet via YouTube, you can learn to use the semicolon and have a very successful relationship with it.

Riley: Yes! Use Google, use YouTube, use the resources afforded to us in these modern ages, and work that language.

Show don’t tell

Riley: Why shouldn't I show? What's wrong with painting a clear line that's easy for readers to follow? Not every story has to have a mystery or a twist. Some can be straightforward.

Ann: Sometimes you should show and sometimes you should tell. Only you can decide which is the right course in your particular work. Listen to your beta readers. Listen to your own instincts. Use what feels right to you and what feels right to the words you’re writing. I think that both can be an effective means of communicating to your readers.

Never start your book at the end of the story

Riley: What better way to get the tone for the rest of the book? I mean, there's a lot that can happen between the start and the finish, and some stories change over time. What better way to prepare your readers for the insane ride ahead?

Ann: “The end is only the beginning.” From The Mummy, right? But still true. If you have a reason for doing it, then by all means, stride boldly forward. Be confident in your decision.

Turn off the TV

Riley: Some of my best writing is done with a TV on! The sound of the voices in the background offer just enough of a distraction for my ADD addled brain. It helps me focus in the long run, and inspires me to do better than what I hear and see.

Ann: No, there is no singular right way to write a book. If you’re distracted by the television, radio, etc, then change your setting up. Find what works best for you and stick with that. I listen to music or have movies playing in the background as I work. Sometimes I need distractions because I get lost in my own thoughts and can’t force my fingers to type with all the conflicting plot points. A distraction helps me zone out and move forward. I can edit the dust bunnies out later.

Stay away from sentences that start with the words “there are” or “there is"

Riley: There is something wrong with this rule. There are people who truly believe this, and that makes me sad. English is a flexible language, use it.

Ann: A truly masterful answer, Riley. Enough said.

Write what you know

Riley: How do I expand my point of view then? I have never once done heroin, but people have told me Everyone Dies At The End did a great job of explaining heroin addiction and the demons it causes. Research, and write what you don't know.

Ann: Does no one know how to use the internet? Or a library? Or even discussing with your friends who know about the subject when you don’t? We have some pretty powerful brains. Use the opportunity to learn something new. If you’re determined to write about a topic you know very little about, then you’ll do your due diligence and learn about it in order to write about it. And you’ll be a better person for it in the end. We should all be attempting to expand our horizons with a little research every now and then.

Treat writing as a job

Riley: Maybe you’re lucky, maybe you're in the minority of people and you love your job. Most people don't. I love to write, I wish I had more time to devote to it. I love the freedom it gives me, especially in our modern age where I can literally pick up my phone at any time and start writing. Don't treat writing like a job, treat it like something you love to do.

Ann: Why, so I can hate it? You know what I did when I worked? I wrote. You know what I do now that I’m a stay at home mom who home schools her kiddos and designs websites? I don’t write because I feel like I SHOULD be writing. Find the joy it in it and stick with that. If sitting down at your computer from 9-5 with the sole purpose of writing brings you joy, then do it. But that doesn’t work for me and I refuse to adhere to that.

Focus on quality over quantity

Ann: What are we talking about here? Word count? Published book count? Pseudonym count? It’s so vague. If you’re capable of publishing a book a month and you feel passionate about that, then you go! Should we be working to put our best foot forward? Yes. But only you can decide when you’re ready to publish your book. Don’t let someone tell you that you shouldn’t just because you published a book a mere six months ago and you can’t possibly have completed another book since then that’s worth anyone’s time. Do what you feel led to do. And don’t let anyone shame you for that.

Riley: The most prolific author of our times has an entire religion based around some of his writings. Love him or hate him, L. Ron Hubbard has shown me that less isn't necessarily better. The man wrote in the golden age of pulp fiction, and had grammatical errors throughout his works. And yet, there are millions of people that follow his words to a point of reverence. This is not an endorsement or a chastisement of Scientology. Just something I always think about when people mention quality over quantity.

If you’ve read through all of our answers above, you’ve seen a common theme. A confusion over “rules” versus suggestions given to make us really examine our work prior to publishing. Don’t confuse the two or you’ll end up driving yourself (and everyone around you) completely insane with your constant recitation of grammar and writing rules.

I personally believe that any suggestion that makes you take a second look or a fresh look at your current WIP is helpful. But that doesn’t mean that you should lose sleep over the idea that one might have slipped by you during your editing process.

Sleep well. Write on. And Support Indie Authors!

-Ann Livi Andrews and Riley Amos Westbrook

Looking for more?

Our moderator, Dwayne Fry recently published his thoughts on Self Publishing in a book titled: Things I’ve Learned as an Indie Author. Some of the above rules are addressed as well as a multitude of others. If you’re looking for a fresh perspective on your work, I highly recommend giving it a read. You may see your work in an entirely new light.

#Writing Rules #Indie Author #Rules #Grammar #Punctuation #Mistakes #Author #Dwayne Fry #Riley Amos Westbrook #Ann Livi Andrews #supportindieauthors

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comicteaparty · 4 years

Text

December 21st-December 27th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from December 21st, 2019 to December 27th, 2019. The chat focused on the following question:

Without heavy spoilers, describe the worst thing you’ve put one of your characters through?

carcarchu

for a comic i haven't released yet (this happens in literally the first chapter so i don't really consider it a spoiler) the main character in this story has a rough life. she's saddled with enormous debts and gets fired from her job, then when things finally start looking up for her she gets hit by a car and "dies" the whole premise of the story is that people who die and get brought back to life by doctors (dead for just a few seconds) get powers

Cronaj

Hmmm.... I won't say whose, but probably the death of their child, and I've done some awful things to my characters. For some reason, all the pain and suffering in the world does not amount to the loss of one's child. To be fair, I don't usually consider it my fault that these horrible things occur in the story, because I couldn't change it if I wanted to. To do so would feel like a lie. These stories exist in my mind independent of what I want, and I'm simply telling them to the world. But yes... that child is the saddest creature I've written.

eli [a winged tale]

Torn apart, watched their friends die, forced to live forever... you name it, we got it In all seriousness, I also like focusing on the small (but not insignificant things) like not having your love reciprocated and questioning your worth. Sometimes it’s the small things that can collectively be destructive.

Capitania do Azar

In some ways, I think I have already done the worst I possibly could to my characters (war, being unable to help and losing their loved ones in darkness and loneliness). But on the other hand, I do plan to extend the mechanics of mind intrusion to the point of completely mangling up people's psyches, so I guess I'll have to wait and see which one feels worse

FeatherNotes

So far in GJS, we've had a character go through some, well, explosive limb loss There's quite a lot of hard things the chars go through / will go through, but i def see the brutality of the leg loss as something pretty huge for the character!

taterviking

I threw my main character under a semi, off a cliff, and shoved a tree branch into his brain. And then when he woke up I gave him long term memory loss and stole 80% of his memories from before he was 12

Kelsey (Kurio)

Boy am I glad none of us are gods heh

taterviking

I kind of treat writing like the Sims: which one am i torturing and which two did I build specifically to get naked together.

eli [a winged tale]

Omg Tater that’s a perfect analogy (edited)

taterviking

the only difference is that I can follow them to work and they're alllllll the money slave/work horse

Also, Viking is my father's name, you can call me Tater ;P

snuffysam

the worst thing that has happened to one of my characters canonically is something i have not and will not describe in-comic, so i'm not about to describe it here. there are certain... types of trauma... where even if a story depicts things realistically, respectfully, and with properly directed condemnation, fans romanticize the hell out of it. and i want no part of that. so, like, i'm keeping this stuff in the character's backstory, because i want to depict living with and growing past traumatic experiences, but i refuse to actually describe/depict what happened so fans don't get the wrong takeaway. the important thing isn't what happened, it's how she deals with it. as for things that actually happen in the comic - one character does get tortured by a government for information?

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Oh boy. So I am rather known for torturing my characters. I don’t even know what the worst thing is, but ‘dying horribly’ or ‘very dark and tragic backstory involving abuse and/ or terrible loss’ describes 95% of my casts.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Several of my characters get horribly bitten/eaten by hungry spirits. If they aren't already completely wrecked by the attack, the resulting cursed bite leads to quarantine and ostracization. Even little kids get abandoned or sent away. And those who are eventually totally consumed by the curse... basically become half-dead. ...Yeah, I got a lot of 'worse than death' stuff going on

Nutty (Court of Roses)

Won't say who, but i don't think i could do much worse than giving a character the perfect life and then taking it and everyone they've ever loved away from them in one fell swoop, leaving them to wander aimlessly.

Deo101

I've put all of my characters through different things that I think aren't really comparable as far as saying one is "worse" than the other. Though, I think that I'll probably say making one of them essentially live through a genocide is pretty undeniably the worst thing, and also the only one that I've really canonically discussed.

DanitheCarutor

I'm lowkey into character torture porn, so I like putting my OCs through some shit. Apollo probably has the most cushy life of every character I've ever made, the spoiled brat! The worst thing that will happen, in TGtaHR at least, will be related to death and/or near death. Not so much the subject in itself but how it is used, which may or may not be the worst thing from a reader perspective, but from the character's perspective. I mean...? I guess anything relating to death is pretty bad, but I've kind of seen situations where the person would have considered it a luxury, soooo. I don't know where I'm going with this!(edited)

Deo101

sounds like you're going towards "my comic is the meanest thing I've put my characters through"

you big meanie.

DanitheCarutor

Ah! I'm such a bully! Nothing like putting your characters through the worst to make the positive payoff more worth it.

khkddn

is psychological or physical pain more impactful to readers? prolly depends heavily on the context huh

anyway for my comic I think it is a tie between a psychologically hurtful thing and a physically hurtful thing

the psychological one is a little something I like to call The Dress Arc, and the physical one is called Cold Swiss Cheese

Deo101

Incredible

khkddn

what is the point of having painful scenes if one does not give them cool names amirite

Deo101

Absolutely. You know whats up

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I’d say psychological pain is much worse. A broken leg can heal in a month, but trauma stays with you. Of course, the former can cause the latter, but I always find it much more emotional when the character is feeling internally tortured rather than externally.

DanitheCarutor

I'm no expert but from personal experience with my comic, it's kind of depends on the reader? But physical is more universally comprehensible. A lot of the pain depicted in my story so far is psychological, with a little physical, and I've noticed people who have experience and/or are educated with the psychological aspect are more impacted by that than people who have never experienced or learned about it. Or to be more straightforward, people who have never experienced or have no knowledge of mental/emotional abuse have no idea what's going on in the story. Although when I had a scene where my frail, mentally unstable MC got punched in the face, everyone flipped out equally.

Of course this is just relating to abuse, when it comes to other stuff relating to pain I can't really give an opinion. I would say it's similar, since most people generally need to have a certain level of understanding of something to be impacted by its depiction of fiction, but I have no idea. Lol(edited)

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

No, you make a really good point. People generally can’t comprehend a pain they haven’t experienced, so I admit it would make sense to only feel empathy for physical pain if you’ve never known psychological trauma.

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, it's a douchey thing to do since this is subjective (there are people who have experienced trauma who lack the ability to empathize with others who go through something similar and vice versa), but I like to make a game out of figuring out who has and hasn't been in a really bad relationship based on how they respond to my comic irl, and online to an extent. Admittedly I'm hardcore into getting feedback half due to wanting to psychologically evaluate my readerbase.

Kelsey (Kurio)

Wait what?

DanitheCarutor

"What what" what? Don't worry, I don't do anything or judge based on stuff like that since it's so little info, I just like psychology... even if I may not be very good at it.

But yeah, I'm kind of a creep.

DanitheCarutor

Oh yeah, don't be scared to go back to posting in this channel? Thing? I won't be hanging out here, unless someone talks to me directly. I just responded originally because I had a tiny bit of knowledge on the subject asked.

Cronaj

I get that. I'm also kind of creepy. Plus, I kind of feel like webcomics are a bit of a social experience to begin with, which often involves a lot of studying the readers' emotional responses to the story.

keii4ii

Human beings automatically judge each other alllll the time, so part of it is inevitable. I think the most important thing is to acknowledge that you can be a little, very, or even totally wrong. ...The other important thing is, I do think there's a difference between subconsciously judging others and actively looking forward to it? If you are actively looking forward to judging others, that sort of turns your comment section into a social experiment of sorts, and I don't feel comfortable about that. If I knew the creator of a comic I follow was like that, I would be like "uhhhh you do you, but I want no part in that" and never comment.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Just.... ideally should be consensual?

I know some people who actually enjoy that kinda stuff, like even if they found out, they'd be like "ohhhhh SMART! :D"... Then there are people who would feel upset if they found out. So yeah, ideally this would be all consensual so people can opt in or out, but I don't know how you can do this while fully informing prospective participants.

DanitheCarutor

It sounds like a lie, but really, I don't judge. I make up fantastical concepts of what kind of person this is based on the little info I get from body language, facial expressions, what they say, and tone of voice but it's all thrown out the window because people are more complicated than that. At the end of the day I'd rather actually get to know the person before I truly judge their character. Also when it comes to normal comments I don't analyze unless the commenter is analyzing, usually the "judging" is when I ask for feedback... like, more than a couple sentences worth to get a good idea of how the story is mentally processed by that person. For example when I was asking for feedback after finishing chapter 4. While I was asking for critique, I also wanted to know how the story affected that person, get a vague idea of what kind of people the story draws in or what kind of people it drives away, etc. And yeah, I kinda go the extra mile with it because that's just how my brain works, it just runs all the time. I assume that person consents to me analyzing them and their experience when they respond to me asking for their opinion, but I dunno. Maybe I'll just... teach myself to not think when it comes to my comic or audience, I don't want to scare people off just because I'm an overly analytical weirdo. <_<'

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

I like when you use the physical pain for psychological pain. like someone is in heavy dangers, and comes out with only a broken leg. the other characters can feel guilty, hurt, etc other feelings. For me, physical pain is not enough, it is the reaction it sparks

DanitheCarutor

Oh uh, also @keii4ii, I can vouch that being analytical doesn't make you smart. My dad is like that and he's a complete moron, also I'm not the brightest bulb in the box either, I'm just a slave to my thoughts. Sorry, just wanted to clear things up to make myself look less bad.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I can understand that side of analysing. I’m often curious about my readers because I don’t have very many; my comics tend to be quite niche. So I wonder about what sort of demographic I’m attracting. From the people who have commented and shared a bit about themselves, it seems to be a lot of European and American adults in the 20-40 range who have received higher education (med students, professors, people in STEM, etc), which to me is kind of wild because I’m not writing ‘smart’ comics. There’s no real science or anything in my dark and morbid fantasy comics, so I’ve wondered what about them appeals to this demographic. This isn’t counting my new WT audience I’ve gained over the last couple of years, which is a very different demographic from those who follow on my site, but it’s really interesting to think about ‘What kinds of stories appeal to certain groups of people?’.

keii4ii

@DanitheCarutor Oh, I didn't mean to imply it was a bad thing. I apologize if that's how it came across. I meant it as a "thing I want vs thing I don't want." Just because I don't want a thing for myself, doesn't make it a bad thing.

Re: demographic analysis, more power to you if you're naturally into it. I'm like 'no..... let me just sit here and make this comic in peace.........' and even that's hard enough!

I do think about that stuff from time to time, but when I do, it's usually because I'm sad and am trying to think of non-worst-case-scenario explanations. So yeah, not something I enjoy pondering.(edited)

DanitheCarutor

@Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios) Same, even though my comic has gotten more readers than I imagined, it's still niche. Honestly don't know the age range, but I've gotten a range from psychology and medical students, or people with PHDs to normal 9to5ers who've been through similar experiences. (People who live with schizophrenia or clinical depression, or who have been in bad toxic relationships.) It's really interesting too because some of the readers who comment are very open about sharing intimate stuff about their lives without me even asking, which I'm not sure is due to the type of comic it is or because they relate to it? Either way I don't mind, it's kinda nice that someone feels comfortable enough to share that kind of info despite me being a total stranger. That's really interesting with your comic, though! Like, it's cool the types of people your work can attract, maybe your comic is smarter than you think. Lol

@keii4ii Yeah, but I don't want to discourage readers from interacting with my comic just because I'm into that stuff. Even though the work itself is far from safe I want people to feel comfortable enough to leave comments or discuss amongst each other.

keii4ii

Yeah, I think that's the dream for pretty much all of us, cultivating a comment section where everyone feels comfortable and welcome to interact

keii4ii

Getting back to the question, I really don't think I could answer, given the theme of my comic: "your pain matters, even if it doesn't affect the fate of the world/ even if it seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things." I don't have it in me to go against that and say to my characters, hey, guess what! Your pain pales in comparison to [this other character]'s!

Cronaj

That's an interesting thought. I mean, I spoke of what I consider the saddest scene, but really, in regards to the characters, they might not see it that way. That scene makes me cry, (and probably the character(s) directly involved), but the other characters have other sorrows weighing on their hearts, and those sorrows are also powerful in their own way.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble #comic tea party #ctp

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honeylikewords · 5 years

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Gimme your thoughts about Us, I’m still dumb af - You know who it be

I’m putting off an essay to write this but let’s ROCK and ROLL, BABY!

So, spoilers below the cut, just as a warning for anyone who still wants to see Us (2019), dir. Jordan Peele. If you’re unable to see the movie for whatever reason, you can feel free to read this and garner some ideas from it, but I still suggest seeing the film, in the end. A lot of this won’t make sense unless you’ve seen Us!

I normally don’t go out for too much horror, but I do think the Jordan Peele movies are legitimately great works of art, and very culturally relevant, so if you want to be supportive of black artists, black art, and the vocalization of the black experience, I highly suggest going to see these movies or watching them at home.

They’re not actually overly violent or exploitative, and understanding that the violence in the films is meant to be metaphorical for the systemic violence perpetrated against oppressed groups helps to contextualize the stuff you do end up seeing. So, without further ado, let’s get into some Thoughts about some Cinema.

So, first of all, I have to say that I haven’t stopped thinking about this movie since I saw it at, like, 5:30 pm on Sunday. It’s been on my mind non-stop, and I’ve been fixated on the soundtrack, particularly “Anthem” and “Pas de Deux”, along with the “Tethered Remix” of “I Got Five On It”. I love the intentionally jarring combination of sounds, and how “Anthem” is directly reflective of the idea of the “U.S. Anthem”. “Us Anthem”.

Jordan himself has been very open about the fact that the title Us is meant to also represent “U.S.”, and when Red is asked “what she is” and she rasps out “We’re Americans” it just... stuck with me.

The nonsense-singing of “Anthem”, too, fixates me, since the scorer for the film has talked about how it’s the “voices of the Tethered”, and how they’re “angry” and “ready to get free”. We know that the Tethered cannot speak, which is a major and interesting facet of their life, to me, since they’re never given “a voice” beyond this kind of animal screaming and groaning.

It’s what makes a lot of viewers see them as “sub-human”, but always gets to my heart and makes me think about the fact that they are so very keenly human. It makes me think about the repression of “lesser” languages, native languages, “non-verbal” languages. The Tethered DO have a means of communication-- clicks and rasps, cries and screams-- which definitely do pull at the human fear of “unnatural” noises, but also remind me of native languages that utilize clicks or throat sounds often not found in English.

The Tethered are deeply, intimately human. While it is mentioned by Red that two bodies cannot share the one soul, that doesn’t mean to me that the other is soulless. I really don’t think that about the Tethered. I think that they are their own people, and that their rising proves that. They’re not hollow machines that just mimic their “original” on the surface, but are just people with their own souls, people who have been wrongly oppressed and mistreated.

Us is openly a discussion about the way we, as people and as Americans, treat “others”. Whether that means the racial other, the cultural other, the class other, the gendered other, or anything other system we try to dichotomize, binarize, or diametrically oppose to something else, it’s very definitely about the ways we abuse and mistreat people in order to systemically oppress them and gain from that.

Adelaide represents this interesting kind of class-traitor, in a way, because she rises “above the others”, both literally and figuratively, and instead of making an effort to free those around her, she just rises to the top and forgets where she came from. Whether that’s about assimilating into white culture and “rejecting” the culture one came from (joining in the oppression of your own people by claiming to ‘not be one of those kinds’) or about rising to a wealthy position and oppressing the poor, forgetting what it was like to be poor one’s self, or about any number of other things, that’s up for interpretation. But the issue is still there.

Jordan intentionally left the specific meaning of the film open so that every viewer would be forced to engage with it personally. Who do you, personally, help to betray? Who do you, personally, help to oppress? Whose suffering do you, personally, benefit from? You’re forced to grapple with that, and forced to acknowledge the reality that every single one of us is part of the issue. You only climb higher by putting someone below you, and this movie forces you to recognize that.

I’ve heard people complaining that Us isn’t as good as Get Out specifically because it’s more open-ended, but I think that’s what makes both films fantastic and beautiful. Get Out brazenly exposes the direct experience of everyday black horror, and is completely open about it. It’s a one-to-one analogy. But Us is for everyone, making you wrestle with yourself. You are your own Tethered. You are the good and the bad of yourself. And neither one is fully good and neither one is fully bad. Get Out was a master-class in analogy, but Us is more of a metaphor; it doesn’t need to have everything laid out. Its horror and its beauty lay inside of its intentional cloudiness.

I’m really obsessed with the rabbit imagery, too. I love bunnies, and seeing them become symbolic of this horror really was an interesting take. Jordan himself has expressed being uncomfortable with and scared of rabbits, specifically because he can see that they’re “soulless” inside; he says that if you took the brain of a rabbit and put it in a person, you’d get Michael Myers. Totally void, just ready to hurt. And I think that’s an interesting take on them. He also points out that the image of rabbit ears, the shape of their head, mirrors the shape of the scissors that the Tethereds use.

I also love the way that rabbits are largely docile little creatures, but can bite pretty hard if provoked, and I feel that’s a good way to look at the Tethered. I don’t see them as inherently evil or violent, just pushed beyond their own limitations. They did what we all did as Americans: they led a violent uprising against their oppressors, then ‘peacefully’ took their place, all the way across America. They are us, for better, for worse.

The choice to use the 80′s references really often also caught my attention; Jordan talks about how the 80′s nostalgia is this double-edged sword, since everyone is longing to go back, but not realizing the costs and weights of that, the evil lurking under the placidity and “wholesome American image” that the 80′s sought to project.

The all-American, apple pie, small-town fun and games of the 80′s also came with the Reagan administration, the AIDs crisis, the war on drugs, a massive rift between the rich and the poor (with a steadily more wealthy middle class expanding from just middle class into rich, upper middle class individuals and extremely poor lower middle class), and “sublimated racism”. We pretended, as a nation, that we were now post-racial, but that was such, such, such a huge lie.

So setting the memory scenes in the 80′s, using 80′s film references, 80′s imagery, 80′s sound-a-likes, the Michael Jackson stuff: it all points to the duality of what we love, what we are nostalgic for. Michael was a hero of the 80′s, but now...

Speaking of Michael Jackson, notice carefully the costuming of the Tethereds. Red jumpsuit, single glove, ‘the monster is not what it seems’, the “Thriller” t-shirt... why, Jordan, one might think that you made the Tethereds look like Michael in “Thriller”!

Which he obviously did, guh-doy.

I mean, the glove/sharp symbol also is an homage to good ol’ shithead Freddy Krueger, too, but it’s definitely a potent nod to Michael Jackson. We know that Adelaide (now Red) had seen the “Thriller” video as a child, and that she wanted the shirt with him on it, so the image of the Tethered is this combination between the Hands Across America symbols and the Michael Jackson look in “Thriller”. Adelaide (now Red) never forgot.

Also, god, Hands Across America? Talk about 80′s false optimism! It’s incredible how potent that image is for the issue being discussed. For those of you who don’t know, Hands Across America was an initiative in the 80′s to help end hunger and homelessness in America. The idea was that every person in America would join hands and form a line “from sea to shining sea” across the entire lower 48 continental states, and for each person in line, $10 dollars would be donated to the cause.

The event, of course, failed in many ways. First, there’s no POSSIBLE way for people to join hands across the whole continent; the terrain of the US makes it entirely impossible. Plus, the time necessary to conduct that would be incredibly exhausting for people standing in line! But what’s worse? The project did successfully raise ~$34 million, but nearly $20 million of that disappeared into “event costs”: paying the celebrities that endorsed it, paying the event organizers, et cetera. Only around $15 millions made it to the homeless and hungry. While $15 mil. is no small number, that’s.... less than half of what was raised. So where did all that go? Into the pockets of the already rich. It’s such powerful symbolism, especially within the context of the film.

Oh, also, while still on the 80′s talk, the opening shot of the film features a VHS copy of the movie C.H.U.D., a movie about “sub-human underground sewer dwellers” who rose up to eat the surface humans. These “CHUDs” were one-to-one analogies for the homeless and impoverished.

I cannot get over how strong the storytelling is in Us, I just can’t. I’m obsessed with it. I cannot help but wanna talk about it all the time! It’s so GOOD and I’m so FRUSTRATED that I’m gonna cut myself off here to stop from ranting about every teeny tiny thing and every big major thing because no one will know what I’m on about, but, seriously, do yourselves a favor and go see Us.

This movie will make you have to sit down and think about whose suffering you’ve benefited from, and what you need to do within yourself to change this.

Also, before I go, I just gotta say I love, love, love the decision Jordan made about having the 1980s version of the hall of mirrors be “Native American” themed, only to have that “politically corrected” in the 2010s to be “Merlin’s Hall Of Mirrors”, which is just a facade thrown up over a still-racist, exactly the same hall of mirrors. The problem lurks within, never gone, just covered.

Also, that ties to the Kubrick connection (The Shining is a major inspiration for Jordan) and the genocide connection, so, uh, it’s deep out here, lads.

Anyway, I have opinions about movies.

#also lupita deserves an oscar for this role no joke #her 'red' voice? ogh my god... oh my god #HER M II I I I I N D !!!!#messages #long post #us spoilers #Anonymous

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iglooface · 5 years

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My whole school career, despite how short it may be thus far, I have always been complimented and received positive remarks about how smart I was and how talented I was. They all find it strange that these are not traits I am proud of.

I grew up with depression, anxiety, and insomnia. My three original traits that have come to rule my life. I inherited mild depression from my mother, and anxiety and insomnia from my father. In all of my years in school except for the last I have been bullied mercilessly for everything about my being. It would vary from my hair, my style of clothing, my physical being, calling me ugly, exclusion, death threats, abandonment, being called names and excessively pointing out my mistakes (surprise! I'm human unlike most bastards I meet). I also had chronic nose bleeds, so from the beginning everyone was always grossed out by me for bleeding from my face nearly every day (most of my clothes are stained with my own blood because of this and I'm honestly too broke to afford new clothes very often). Even teachers and my own parents would put me down for nearly everything I did for one reason or the other; nothing I ever did was right. And to add more I'm often put after my sisters' needs and wants. I've never been prioritized.

I was, and still am, a sickly child. I've technically had my heart stopped and been dead twice before and I had a handful of major surgeries before my sophmore year in highschool. My doctors don't ever listen to me and they think I'm dramatic when I bring up actual chronic symptoms I suffer from.

As a child, we moved around a lot and so I switched schools often and was never able to make or keep friends. I come from a long line of verbally and emotionally abusive teachers who went on without consequence whilst I get in trouble for trying to fix myself. In grade school alone I had all but two of my teachers quit their jobs and/or be replaced after that year, if not during the middle.

Children are highly impressionable, and so these kinds of events did lead up to me thinking it was somehow my fault. Logically I know this not to be true, but impressions and mental illnesses are not logical.

In seventh grade alone, I had gone through 12 different prescriptions for pain and different types of birth control to regulate my period and my chronic cramps. It's highly likely that I had, and still have, endometriosis, yet my doctors are always reluctant to perform any blood tests on me simply because I am young, as if being young makes it entirely impossible for me to have health issues.

My periods were unstable to a point that I'd end up having one for thirteen days, or months apart. Given, young girls with periods often experience irregular cycles, but mine kept landing me in the hospital which is never a good sign.

I was bullied that year to a point that I tried to kill myself and failed, and I managed to avoid my parents finding out. This was the beginning of my incredibly high drug tolerance. At the end of that year, my favorite teacher was killed in a car accident.

The following year, it was found out I had massive ovarian cysts that were increasing my insomnia and put me in agonizing pain nearly every moment of my life. But my doctors refused to take action because I was young. That year I was further emotionally abused by a handful of my teachers. One of them, worse than others, was fired during the beginning of the third trimester of the school year. Her replacement, a long term substitute, was even worse. She had bullied and abused the class so hard that kids had killed themselves and I ended up getting conversion disorder.

Conversion disorder is a mental disorder in where my body cannot handle stress. My brain doesn't know how to function and deal with high stress situations, so instead it shuts off my physical body. Symptoms vary from person to person, but mine are on more of the extreme end. It varies from extreme memory loss, seizures, not breathing, choking on white foam produced by my body, screaming unconsciously, blacking out, temporary amnesia, and paralysis. This is a condition that I cannot control under any circumstances, and it truly dictates my life.

Now my mom had gone to the principal (the school cycles through five in a single school year because of a whole lot of drama) to report this teacher and get a new one. And instead of acting reasonably, the principal quite literally told us she wouldn't look into a replacement because it wouldn't change anything.

And, oh, how wrong she was.

I had previously had mild anxiety and depression from previous life experiences, but this year pushed me to be anxious to a fault (granting me a new stutter, hours long panic and anxiety attacks, migraines, etc), and pushed me into such a strong depression I became highly suicidal and went into an emotional shock. And because of this I also gained PTSD, which is a whole trip within itself.

Freshman year was a wreck. Another one of my middle school teachers had died; she died from cancer and was one of very few people who were ever nice to me. I was being bullied on a whole new level of horrid, and I was flunking every class I had been in. My conversion disorder episodes became do frequent and so severe that the school actually kicked me out illegally for about two months before they continued my education on independent study. That year my dog was put down. And normally that wouldn't be such a big deal except for the part she was quite literally my only friend for three years.

Even worse; I was in recovery after one of my more major surgeries to get my ovarian cysts removed to help with my pain and sleeping problems. I was fragile and under the influence of strong drugs when I decided to take my dog on a walk around my property for the first time in a month because I had been on bed rest. She had seen my neighbor, and gotten freaked out by him (he radiates massive pedophile vibes) and so she jumped on him. Now this over privileged scumbag thought the appropriate response was to threaten to shoot my dog if he ever saw her again no matter the circumstance, and proceeded to curse me out profusely all while I tried to apologise and make it right.

My dog had become a liability because of this man and we had to put her down. Take in mind she was an amazing dog, and had never disobeyed me. She was protective of me as she had been since we adopted her and was genuinely the best thing that has ever happened to me. She'd check on me when I cried and lay with me when I was sick, and was there for me more often that my actual parents were.

The next year, I was bullied slightly less, but I had a great ordeal of friend drama and my fair amount of fights with the office staff. One of my friends, who I thought was close to me, had threatened to kill me after I offended her exactly once. I had a bad day after another episode and she had built this reputation of not feeling and being unattached to the real world. I wasn't in the mood to deal with people and when she asked me if I was okay I questioned why she cared. That was it. Later I had apologized because I had come to terms that I was in the wrong for dismantling her emotions, but she decided to take it too far.

One of my teachers was permanently removed from the school for having nudes on a school device, and they brought in a long term substitute. This was about when my PTSD really started to kick me in the nuts, so I went back on independent study to complete the year. My only other friends moved away and my significant other had killed himself after killing himself shortly after telling me he loved me.

I don't expect people to understand the kind of psychological damage this causes to a person, but I can tell you that it hurts.

I was referred to a continuation school in my area for flunking both years of highschool, and this continuation school had a bad reputation of being troubled kids and violent beings.

I get there, I spend my year being amazed by how nice people are to me. This is the first year of my life I have ever been treated like a human, and it was by the people society had deemed misfits. I had a great year; I made friends and built connections to people. And then my friends left me, and my favorite teacher was fired simply for being a first year. My other teacher left the school year early for maternity leave, and, guess what, was replaced by a long term substitute. I don't think I've ever panicked as hard as I did in those months. Similar timing, same school subject, similar classroom. All of the stressors were right and I nearly fell apart at the seams. I had more frequent and severe migraines and anxiety attacks. My hands would shake in fear so hard I couldn't write, which was bad because the classes I had with that teacher were exclusively note taking and online courses. This substitute wasn't a bad person. He was competent and polite and was always helpful, but my mental illnesses and brain blocks caused me to lose the opportunity to work with them successfully. In the last trimester I tried to kill myself three times, and I accidentally overdosed on drugs about 14 times over the whole year. I almost died a lot by my own doing and it was horrible.

Children need stability to survive and develop normally and I had been deprived of both, as well as emotional stability and positive reinforcement.

Now, during these times I had coping methods. I draw and write professionally to distract myself from the physical pain in my being if not just stress plain and simple. I watched documentaries and studied nearly every subject during my sleepless nights. My coping method was learning, practicing, evolving, and then teaching. My IQ had beat the range of average and I've had a reading level ranked at post college since I was in middle school. And this fall I'm a senior and I've only been ranked higher and higher each year. I've always gotten extra credit on every individual assignment and I've always been too of my class. My teachers love my art, and I had exceeded my professional art teacher within weeks of knowing her. I see, I practice, I perfect, I personalize every trait and skill I want and find intriguing. I study and develop to keep myself from remembering the agony I'm in.

I have a really wide and extensive knowledge on almost every subject and culture I've come across from, because being awake and learning for days on end beats being awake and in agony for days on end.

Along with my severe insomnia, it becomes apparent that I've seen more sunrises than the amount of years most adults have been alive. My walks under the starlight and the moon at odd hours? Amazing. Laying in a field at night and listening to all the little creatures and the coyotes howling in the distance? Perfect. Stargazing in my driveway on a clear night in the winter? Cold to my bones but I'd never trade the memory. Walking home in the rain at 11 a.m.? It's made me wiser. Taking a moment to breathe in and feel nature has sometimes saved me.

My bones definitely creak; mostly because I have juvenile arthritis, but I also feel ancient in my mind.

The wear and tear my body has faced for such a physically young being is unnatural. I can't describe the strange feelings of almost bleeding to death or stomach ulcers brought on by stress.

Those weird feelings of my bones cracking wrong or my knees suddenly giving out.

I've seen more of the Galaxy from here on earth than most adults have ever seen in a poster.

The meteor showers, the shooting stars, the solar flares, the cycles of the moon, the constellations? They accompany me on my walk down to my death.

Even better, looking up daily to love the clouds. I've seen amazing things and infinite days in mere minutes.

The feeling of cool streams and powerful rivers. Almost drowning in the ocean on multiple occasions, feeling the rain on my face. Those are the most powerful moments I've ever experienced.

Hearing the cry of infantile wildlife and mothering it feels like an old friend of mine. I cannot emphasize on how many creatures I've fostered back to health.

I've seen life and I've seen death, and quite too much of it for my age. The wars, the shootings, the stabbings and car accidents. People hanging themselves and people who die clear well before their body does. The births i e witnessed, the blooming of Meadows, the appearance of the new foxes.

Aiding things that normally need help and defending those who have lost their shields. Befriending things considered monsters. Providing a moment of peace for animals searching for the bridge of mortality.

The comfort I bring to people, the therapy I provide from listening and accepting, it was never something I had received myself.

My therapist diagnosed me a sociopath path as an ignorant response to seeing my lack of attachment to people. Technically she's not wrong, I'm a mild sociopath.

And before anyone gets weirded out, sociopaths do have feelings. They are simply harder to reach and read by strangers or common uninvolved people. Psychopaths pretend to care when they don't really. They are violent and unpredictable. Do not confuse us, do your research.

My English teacher this year had made a remark about me being an old soul, and oh, how right she was. I am ancient and people notice.

Life has been forever as I have been forever. My heart is still there, just ground to a fine sand and stored somewhere safer.

I'm tired, of course from my worrying for the human race and how much trouble people are creating these days. The people, they see me and tell me to smile, yet I have nothing to smile for.

My pain killers are border line overdose and all they do is make me a little dizzy. The last time I had pain relief was five years ago in a hospital. I had been in so much pain I hadn't slept in 17 days and they out me on morphine. I was only 12 years old and it was then it had become apparent I'd never be able to truly rest.

Somehow, I rest anyways. I find peace somewhere. Maybe in my hallucinations, maybe in my dreaming and dissociating, maybe in the way the trees speak. Listen to them, the trees, they can tell you more than a life time of science and precision.

I exist, not to overpower someone else's suffering, but instead to offer safety and support. I share so much to emphasize how much I understand. I'm not here as competition to see who can suffer more, but instead I am here to offer a helping hand to keep other people out of the pit of depression I often find myself in.

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lauralikesbaking · 5 years

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Feedback on my short story?

Hello! So as a writing exercise I wrote a short story based on one of my secondary characters to understand the character more and now I have a completely different character than the one I started off with. And now I’m hoping to get some feedback on the character and my writing style.

The short story just mainly follows the inner dialogue of the character, Jack Drummond. He’s the lead singer of a band and he’s supposed to be writing music but he’s having a bad bout of writer’s block and anxiety. His label creates a contest - Jack is going to pick a fan with an original song the fan wrote and produce it in his studio. It goes into his back story of how he became a musician and a certain gay love interest, and why he chooses the winning song.

The book I’m writing is going to follow the contest winner’s point of view - this is like a prequel to that. The book is going to focus on how music production works and what it’s like to work up close and personal with your favorite band.

Anyway please and thank you in advance!!

Shit. Shit. Shit. Absolute shit.

Jack Drummond was lying on his back on his old leather sofa, cradling his laptop between his stomach and his thighs. Scattered around him, stuck in between the cushions and on the floor, were various open bags of beef jerky and peanut m&ms. A couple of empty cans of Monster energy drink were on the coffee table beside him.

Jack had lost count of how many nights he had spent in the studio. He was trying to force himself to write something, anything. It had been over two months and he hadn’t been able to write a single lyric, melody, or even a decent beat to work off of. He was sifting through his library of saved voice memos on his computer, hoping something would spark inspiration. He had over 500 tracks of recorded material, and he had so far been unsuccessful..

So much fucking shit.

His voice memos contained different melodies, drum beats, harmonies and various compositions that had come to him on the fly. Scores and instrumentals he drafted while he grocery shopped. There were harmonies inspired by a flock of sparrows nesting in the trees who called out to each other. Composed guitar riffs and percussion to match the beat of his nervous energy while sitting in interviews. He’d be on the toilet in the middle of the night and find that his hands would be tapping out a rhythm. It never seemed to matter where he was, or what he was doing, or what time it was - there was always music in his mind.

For the last two months however, his mind had been quiet. His normally restless hands remained steady at his sides. His knees didn’t bounce when he sat. He wasn’t walking to the pace of the half formed song. There wasn’t a soothing lullaby in the back of his mind either to lull him to sleep. He was no longer overwhelmed by the music notes no one else could hear. His brain remained stoically and numbingly silent.

Jack reached the last voice memo. A jarring, pop beat played out from his speakers and just as soon as it started playing, he hit the spacebar, cutting off the music. He groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes that were sore from staring at his computer screen from too long. He had listened to all 500 recordings he had made over the last three years and every single one of them were absolute crap.

He was supposed to be working on demos for a new album. Now that the Archives cycle was over, he was due to hand in 10 to 12 new songs in a year and a half from now. Usually, around this time after the last cycle had ended, he would have handed in five, different sounding demos. His label would then approve the ones they liked and would tell him to write more like them. By now, he should have already had ideas lined up that he had thought of while he was way on tour during the long bus commutes from city to city. He had some half assed ideas, but when he recorded them listened to them, he’d just as soon as scrap it.

His band mates suggested that he’d take some time to do some solo research and travel to a couple of cities famous for music. He decided on the U.K., hoping the country’s old rock sounds and history of producing world famous bands like the Beatles and Queen would give him inspiration. He toured all the old famous recording studios; Abbey Studios, Olympic Studios, and Trident Studios. He visited the venues and cafe’s where The Who had first played at. He browsed through vintage record shops and scored a couple of rad guitars that he couldn’t wait to play around on. He even went as far to travel to Scotland, but the only thing he gained from that trip was a severe hangover after being challenged by a local to a drink off in the pub. It turned out the pub had a fun time tricking Americans into drink offs, get them completely wasted, and then take their photo and add it to their “Make Americans Drunk Again” Wall of Fame. Jack returned home to the states with two new guitars, a severe headache, and still no new ideas.

He dreaded the meeting between him and the label when he returned. He knew that once he explained to the label he still hadn’t thought of anything new, they would threaten to let him go. There was no point for a label to continue to support a musician who couldn’t produce music.

Instead, the label had suggested the fan contest. For one week, Jack would work with a fan one on one with the fan’s original song and produce it in his studio. Jack wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of having a fan shipped out here. It wasn’t that he despised or was afraid of his fans, even if he’d get the uncomfortably personal question at almost every meet and greet, or the time he was gifted a handmade doll of himself made with the fan’s own hair. He loved his fans, and he was grateful for their unyielding love and support of the band. It was himself he didn’t trust. He was afraid that he would disappoint the fan, that the fan would show up, eager to produce their song and Jack still wouldn’t have any fresh new ideas. The winning song is supposed to be released digitally at the end of the week of the fan’s stay, and if those digital sales and streams tanked, it would be Jack’s fault.

. The contest was a good idea. Sometimes working outside of your own work to someone else’s sound sparked creativity. But he also knew the contest was the label’s last ditch effort to get him writing again. If he didn’t, then Jack would know for certain; he would be done. He’d be Jack Drummond, former lead singer of the band 5 Years From Now, officially washed up at 27 years old.

Jack ran a hand over his tired face, feeling the scratchy stubble that had started to grow across his chin and jawline. It had been over a month since he bothered to shaved. He didn’t have any gigs, music videos, photoshoots or interviews he had to prepare for. He wasn’t supposed to be assigned to one for a while anyway. He was supposed to be using the time away to write music.

With an exasperated sigh, he closed out of his iTunes library and opened up Twitter. He ignored the hundreds of notifications he would get daily from fans tagging him in posts. In the search bar, he typed in #5YFNMYSONG. The page reloaded and displayed all of the fan entries, from most popular to most recently uploaded. The contest had closed a few days ago, but fans were still submitting entries.

Jack was responsible for picking a winner. Each of his band members and his team at the label were helping him sort through the entries, but in the end Jack would have the final say. The problem was there were literally thousands of entries. Word had spread about the contest, and aspiring musicians from all across the country were entering. The entries had a wide range of aged contestants, the youngest he had seen being about ten years old to contestants in their 20s.

They couldn’t help but remind him of his time in Hollywood when he was on Great American Voice, the country’s singing competition. There were thousands of people who had tried out over the course of the few days he was there. They had driven from all over the tri-state area. There were people of all ages, which had surprised Jack since the show had only ever cast competitors ranging between mid teens to mid twenties. There were little kids dragged in by their parents who hoped to make money off by sticking them in front of cameras. There were adults who hoped to at long last chase their dream of pursuing music. And everyone he talked to had a deeply personal, traumatic, backstory; one girl had been abused by her father up until she was 13 years old; an 18 year old boy suffered from severe bouts of depression. There was another girl who had at last minute decided to enter because she wanted to make her recently departed mother proud. These were the type of contestants who got film time with the celebrity judges, and that was when Jack realized what they were doing. They were using their trauma, deaths, mental disorders, any type of leverage they could to get themselves filming time with the celebrity judges.

Several fans who uploaded videos to his contest were doing the same. They would spend a few minutes before performing their song to explain their own backstories of depression, anxiety, death of a loved one, abuse, and other various traumatic experiences, and how music has helped them become stronger. He wanted to believe their stories. But he wasn’t interested in selecting a fan just because it was their parent’s dying wish. If they were talented on top of their tragic backstory, then great. But Jack needed someone who was both talented and sparked his own creativity.

Truthfully, Jack hated singing competitions, and he despised the fact that this fan contest was essentially just another form of one. At least this way, he could just choose one person and be done with it. He knew first hand the true toxicity of reality competitions. It had been over ten years since he was on Great American Voice, but the memories still burned in his mind.

It was difficult from the start. In the beginning he was sectioned off into group harmonies with contestants who thought they were better than everyone else and tried to take charge. Those first few weeks of group harmonies and group performances were tests to see how well you collaborated with the other contestants. The test was designed to make you feel uncomfortable. Really, they were just picking out anyone who succumbed to the stress early on and send them home.

As Jack advanced through the weeks, he found each week was always harder than the last. There was constant pressure to sound great, look great, and be great. You had to convince the judges and the fans each week to vote you back for the next round. It didn’t matter if he nailed Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” last week. If you got a bad review from one of the judges, it could cost you your spot on the show. Soon sounding and looking great weren’t enough. There was always something new added each week. Photoshoots, interviews, and costume fittings. Charities, children hospital visits, school visits, parade appearances and sponsorship commercials. And you were still expected to do four to five hours of vocal rehearsals. The schedule was endless.

By the time Jack was finished with the show he had lost about 15 pounds and was struggling with episodes of insomnia and depression. Jack thought he’d be relieved when he was kicked off the show. He could finally sleep in. He could finally eat whatever he wanted and not what his vocal coaches and stylists told him to avoid. He could finally relax from being under the spotlight, from being picked apart week from week by his stylists, the publicists, the judges and from the public. He didn’t have to be followed by camera crew from the moment he woke up to when he lay his head down to rest in the evening.

But he wasn’t relieved. He’d lay awake at night, angry that he had come so far in the competition, and with a single vote, he was kicked off. He had developed his own sound on the show. He loved working on new covers each week with his production team, and each Friday night he couldn’t wait to get on stage and show everyone what he had been working on. But the show had left him high and dry. He beat himself up, blaming himself for not being good enough to make it to the next round. He self critiqued constantly, watching and rewatching his performances, trying to figure out where he went wrong, and what he could have done better. The sickening truth was, he wasn’t done being in the spotlight. He wanted it more.

When he made the decision to stay in L.A. after the Great American Voice LIVE! Tour concluded, he jumped right back into the music scene, scoring a small one album record deal with Kathoulos Records. But that had been a mistake. Right before the album was supposed to released, the label was taken over by new management and dropped Jack and his band. The label refused to sell them back the rights to their album and the album was never released.

The days following the label drop crept from Jack’s memory like a slow, sinking infestation. The black, bleak days when he continued to make desperate attempts to get resigned by a label. The swell of bitter disappointment of doors slamming in his face over and over again; the paranoia of over hearing security guards murmuring into their ear pieces. The nights he spent stumbling through bars and dark alleys in a dizzy, drunken hazes…

He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He counted to four and exhaled slowly through his mouth. The flashbacks were coming at him more often now that his mind wasn’t distracted with constantly writing music. It was why he was so desperate to get back to writing music. When his mind was silent, everything else he suppressed began to resurface. Each night he lost more sleep, and each night it would whisper in his ears, reminding him of who he used to be. Who he still could be. They would become louder and more insistent as the days and nights blended together. He heard it now as he struggled to slow down his heartbeat, quickly rising into panic. He needed to get back to writing music, and soon.

Not all of his memories from those years were bad. He still talked with his vocal coaches from time to time. His real saving grace during those first few months was his hotel roommate, Danny, a boy his age from Mississippi. They had become fast friends when they discovered they had a bunch of shared interests - music, movies, online gaming. Jack had never become so close with someone so quickly. Maybe it was just the pressure of the competition, and it was his own selfish desires to meet someone who wasn’t trying to sabotage his performances. When Danny and Jack had both made it to the top ten, they had celebrated by sneaking cheap champagne into the hotel room. They had gotten deliriously drunk and were jumping on their beds belting Queen. Danny had hopped from his bed to Jack’s, tackling Jack on to his back. As they lay there, laughing and out of breath, he had noticed the precise shade of green Danny’s eyes were. Clover green with specks of silver, like morning dew sparkling in the sun. The way his heart had pounded in his ears.

Jack forced his attention back to his computer, yanking himself out of the memory. He refused to let himself go back there.

He scrolled through the entries. Twitter automatically displayed the most popular entries first, and then the most recently added. Right now, the fan favorite was a girl from Tennessee named Missy Maeve, the red headed version of Ariana Grande, except instead of singing about goddesses and ninety nine problems, Missy Maeve sung in a strong country voice about being true to yourself in a world of fake media. She stared confidently into the camera, pouring all of her energy into the performance.She had spared no expense in creating her video, using professional cameras and lighting, and had an entire back up band performing behind her as she danced around on stage with her long red ponytail swinging hypnotically behind her.

Right away, Jack knew she wasn’t the one. He had seen these types of artists before. They may have sounded and looked good, but at the end of the day, they weren’t connecting with the music. They’d be more focused on how they looked and sounded to other people. A real musician didn’t care about performing; he played music for the sake of music. He didn’t give a fuck who listened. He also would rather be caught dead than write a fluff piece about being true to yourself.

There were several decent entries, but none of them had what Jack was looking for. Jack wasn’t even sure if it existed in other musicians. He was searching for the moment when the musician was no longer a musician. It was those moments he felt himself, when he became so in tune with the music itself that reality fell around him. He’d forget he was on stage, performing in front of hundreds or thousands of fans. The music would fill him so completely, it was like he was the music. Every time he performed like that, it would leave him shaking and exhausted. It was the best kind of high.

He sifted through the videos. He felt guilty knowing he couldn’t possibly watch all of them. There were just so many. His label assured him not to worry about watching them all. The label was responsible for looking at the numbers - meaning who ever had the most likes and views. The band was free to look through them at their convenience, just as long as he had an ideal entry picked out by tomorrow.

There were a lot of good videos - too many good ones, in fact. A lot of the fans showed off their riffing skills, as if that was the one vocal skill that proved how well of a singer they were. Jack secretly despised artists who used too much riffing in their songs. It always sounded like the artist was trying to say “look at me! Look out amazing I am at singing! No one else will be able to copy these incredibly complex arrangement of riffs because I’m so amazing!” There were artists who tried to over compensate with autotune, which he detested more than any other sound engineering tool. It always felt like cheating. If you can’t hit the note, why bother pretend you can?

Jack continued to click through the entries. There were just as many bad ones as there were good ones. There were fans who recorded with voices too flat, or too sharp. They were monotonous, or pitchy. Some hadn’t even tried to submit an original song and sang a cover of one of his song. It was almost always his song, “Perfect Chasers” that he had written about the toxicity of perfection and his own personal addictions. Even though it had been years since he released it, it continued to be a fan favorite.

He kept sifting through hoping a song would jump out at him or he’d find an artist with unique vocals. He kept checking the time. 12 hours before he had to pick someone. Then it was 9. Then it was 6. Jack shifted his weight, so he was lying on his side curled up and had his computer sitting on the coffee table and continued to scroll with his wireless mouse. The couch perfectly cradled his thin form. His eyes burned from the white light of the endless scrolling through Twitter…

“DUDE!”

Jack jumped awake. The bright lights of the studio blinded him. He blinked away the the thick eye crust coating his eyelashes. He made out a silhouette standing in front of him.

“Huh?” Jack mumbled.

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” said the silhouette that Jack recognized as Cody, his guitarist. “The meeting with the label is in a half hour.”

“Shit.” Jack sat up. The room spun around him for a moment and stars popped into his vision. His neck and back was sore after another night of sleeping on the couch. He grabbed his phone to check the time. It was dead.

“Did you pick someone?” Cody asked.

“Um…” Jack couldn’t remember. He saw him computer still sitting on the table. He reached over and tapped the keyboard. The screen lit up and showed all of the Twitter entries he had been looking through. He had gotten deep into scrolling through the entries last night. He was almost at the end of the list.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“Cool. Get ready, the guys and I are out back.” Cody left.

When he was gone, Jack groaned and leaned into his hands. Taking a moment to gather himself, he breathed in deeply. He figured he got maybe three or four hours of sleep. His head ached, rebelling against him for the lack of sleep. After a few slow deep breaths he got up and washed his face and brushed his teeth in the studio bathroom, ignoring the dark shadows under his eyes that matched the shadow of his beard.

When he finished he sat back down at his computer. He still had to choose someone. At this point he didn’t care if they were bad. He couldn’t show up empty handed. He randomly chose a name, scrawled it on a piece of paper and tucked it into his jeans.

Jack climbed into the backseat of the bassist player, Mark’s truck. He slid in next to Brendon, the band’s drummer..

“Good morning, sunshine,” Mark called back to him from the driver’s seat. “You enjoy sleeping in?”

“Mhm, right.” Jack mumbled, if you counted barely sleeping at all as sleeping in.

Brendon looked at him. “You kinda look like hell man,” Brendon said, concerned. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. Brendon handed him a pair of sunglasses.

Out of everyone in the band, Jack had known Brendon the longest. They had gone to grade school together and form a band after Jack finished on Great American Voice. Jack was close with all of the guys, but Brendon was always the one who somehow understood Jack and noticed all of Jack’s warning signs. Like right now.

Jack gratefully accepted the sunglasses.

Thank God for coffee, thought Jack as he filled a styrofoam cup.

At the label meeting, everyone was going around the room, pitching their chosen contest candidates. Someone mentioned Missy Maeve and Jack immediately shot it down, claiming if he had to write a bubble gum pop country song, he’d cut off his ears.

Each of the guys in the band got a turn to present someone. Jack waited to go last, since he technically didn’t pick out anyone in specific. He trusted his band, and hoped they would find someone decent enough to produce for that wouldn’t want to make him chuck himself over a cliff. Each band member played the video and explained why they chose it. Their reasons were good and valid, but despite the talent presented, none of them inspired Jack. He had been betting on one of the guys would find someone for him.

“Alright then Jack,” the label manager asked, swiveling his chair towards Jack. “Who did you pick?”

Jack swallowed the lump his throat. “Yeah, I’ve got someone. Her name is…” He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and read the hastily scrawled note. “...Robin Jones.” He walked up to the front of the room to the computer that was projected onto the pull out screen. He searched for her name in Youtube. Her video came up as the 7th result on the page.

Christ, she only has 6 views. Jack kicked himself. Why didn’t he bother to check the view count? He hit play. Please don’t suck, please don’t suck.

The video began with a blurry close up of blonde hair. The camera refocused as Robin leaned back from the camera. She was sitting at a baby grand piano. Around her were music stands, stage risers, and a variety of other instruments were stacked up against the wall. She looked like she was recording from a high school band room.

The girl cleared her throat and stated to the camera, “Hi. My name is Robin Jones. I am 18 years old. I am from Boston, Massachusetts and this my original song, Candle Light.” She turned to the piano, a curtain of blonde hair falling in front of her face. She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Then she began to play.

She was nervous. Her movements were slow, calculated and careful. The notes began higher on the scale, and then steadily dropped into lower notes as she began to quietly sing the first verse.

“When did it begin?

Couldn’t you tell me where the start of it ends?

Cause I got caught in the light.

Yeah, it was too damn bright.

It left me blinded, just for you.”

She sang in a soft, lower register, which surprised Jack. He thought by the tone of her voice, she would have sung higher. But she was good. Thank God.

Her voice shook slightly through the first chorus. It wasn’t until she broke into the second verse, he noticed a shift in her performance. Her voice grew stronger, and she tucked the hair that had curtained off her face behind her ear. Jack found himself nodding along with the gentle rhythm of the song.

I had to take the long

way home, did you know I barely survived

I couldn’t see how and I,

Couldn’t see why after all this time

the goodbye still hurts you more.

Jack almost paused the video on that last line. It stood out to him. It was a good, subjective line that he liked to use in his own music. It was one of those lines he knew came from her specific experience, but it could relate to anyone. It could relate to him. It did relate to him. The goodbye still hurts you more. Jack knew exactly just how it related to him.

Memories of Danny popped back into mind. He saw Danny standing to the side of the stage with everyone else advancing, crying when Jack was voted off. He saw Danny fight with him at the end of the Great American Tour when he didn’t want to move back out to L.A. with Jack. The look on Danny’s face when Jack spit harsh words out of anger and regret. He saw himself a month later, staring at his phone, wishing Danny would just fucking text him back. Danny and his stupid, morning dew green eyes.

The harder lessons are learned

When you see the scars are from the burn

Wish I wasn’t so afraid to believe

That there could still be so much more.

There was Danny was again in the last line. Robin was good with her lyrics.

She launched into the chorus with a change of confidence. She sang with a soulful vibrato. Her eyes were closed as felt her way through the song, her fingers finding the right keys on their own. Her performance looked effortless, but Jack could tell she was pouring everything inside of her into the music.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard, racing towards the bridge. Robin’s entire body rocked along with the rhythm. Suddenly the song tapered off to the quiet notes from the beginning of the song.

I could for now, just stay where I am

Though I still don’t know how this all ends.

Until then I’ll hold on to a little light

So one day you might find me again.

When she finished, she rested her hands on the keys, drawing in a few deep breaths. Her hands dropped so suddenly from the keys, like someone had caught her playing when she wasn’t supposed to. Robin turned back towards the camera and leaned in to end the video.

There was silence in the room. Jack was holding his breath, waiting for someone to respond.

“Well,” the assistant manager started. “She has a nice voice, but -”

“This one,” Jack interrupted. “I want this one.”

His manager looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “You want this one? A romance song?”

Jack was equally surprised. What was he doing? He doesn’t write romance. He doesn’t even like songs about romance. And the memories that she pulled from the back of his mind should have given him enough of a reason not to pick this one. And yet, it had slipped out. He wanted this song.

Jack looked to his bandmates for their confirmation. He wasn’t about to make a decision without them, especially when it involved all four of them. They looked between the three of them, silently discussing the song. After a few moments, and some shrugging, Brendon nodded to Jack.

“Yeah,” Jack said. He cleared his throat. “She’s got a great voice, and the song sounds a little different from most romance songs I’ve heard. I think maybe the lyrics could use a little help, and I think if we put in some percussion with some better acoustics - “ Jack caught himself. He almost didn’t notice the click in his brain. It was like suddenly he turned on a light. Or lit a candle after the power had gone out. His was brainstorming. He was writing.

At that moment he knew for a fact - this was the winning song.

He looked around the room, waiting for everyone’s opinion. They exchanged glances, debating.

Finally, the manager stood up. “Alright, I guess that’s it then. We’ll go with…” He squinted his eyes, looking up at the project screen. “...Robin Jones. Tomorrow we’ll go live with the announcement.”

The meeting concluded. Everyone started packing up. Jack let out a breath of air he didn’t realize he was holding.

The guys approached him.

“So...romance now, huh? Didn’t know you had such a soft spot all of the sudden,” Cody remarked, smiling.

Jack shook his head, just as surprised as they were. “I guess maybe I need to start looking into the romance writing genre.”

“Hah, yeah man.” Brendon clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good to have you back man.”

Jack gave him a smile of thanks.

When he got home, he pulled up Robin’s song again and rewatched it, beginning the process of drafting different types of instruments and background sounds he could add to the song. The ideas came easy, and he could feel something in him relax. He was relieved. He was writing again.

The song had resurfaced those memories of Danny that he fought for so long to forget. Some part of him still thought he was insane to want to work on this song. But another part of him, the part that he had shared with Danny all those years, demanded him to work on this song, and it refused to be ignored. He felt a nervous tingle in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but the song had given that part of him a new, stronger voice. And it was screaming at him.

Jack continued to write.

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