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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

when the levee breaks

summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.

warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of

song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin

word count: 9.5k

There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.

It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.

It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.

The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.

Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.

Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.

After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.

You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change.

He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation.

“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”

And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.

You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.

Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?

Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.

It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.

It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.

303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.

“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table.

He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”

“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.

But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”

You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”

“Olives?”

“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”

(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)

“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”

You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.

306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry’s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)

“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”

“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”

“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.

Holy shit.

You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.

You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.

“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.

“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.

“Yeah, I know.”

Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”

You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”

He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.

“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”

You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”

Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”

You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”

“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”

“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.

Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.

“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not?

He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”

“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”

“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“And why’s that?”

He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”

He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”

You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.

You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci.

No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.

The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.

No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.

Gentleman.

The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.

It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”

He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”

Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”

“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”

You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.

“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.

Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.

“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.

“The guy I took to the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”

She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”

You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”

“He was checking you out, babe.”

You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”

“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”

She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.

Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.

He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.

Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.

You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.

303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.

You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.

“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”

The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.

“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”

“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”

Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”

“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”

“What else d’you have t’do?”

“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”

Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”

You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”

It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.

You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”

“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.

Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it’s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.

You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.

Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.

You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.

You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.

He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.

(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)

“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”

“Really?”

“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”

You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”

He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”

“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”

“Y’did it first.”

“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”

It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”

For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”

You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”

Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”

Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.

For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.

There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?

“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”

He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”

“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide.

“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”

“Y’wanna talk?”

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.

“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”

“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”

It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”

“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.

Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.

Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.

A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.

He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -

The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #loll i actually like this a lot #the smut is rlly rushed bc i didnt want to have any to begin with but i added it in #soz!

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kimistorm · 3 years

Text

Don't do That! (Doctor Strange x Reader Part 7)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Doctor Strange x fem! Reader

Series: It's all a Little Strange, Chapter 7 Masterlist

There was the sound of magic coming from the library. Mordo and Wong clearly heard it too as they were running towards the library. You burst through the door and saw Stephen with the Eye of Agamotto open and running. Behind him, mirrored walls were starting to pop up from the ground. “Stephen no!” you shouted and ran at him to knock him down and hopefully break his concentration.

“Stop!” Mordo yelled as well and Stephen snapped out of his stupor a moment before you crashed into him.

“What were you thinking!” you demanded and got back onto your feet without helping Stephen to his feet.

“Tampering with the continuum of probability is forbidden!” Mordo shouted as he ran up to Stephen.

“I... I wa... I was just doing exactly what it said in the book!” Stephen stuttered in defense. “And what did the book say about the dangers of performing that ritual?” Mordo shot back. “Yeah, I don't know. I hadn't gotten to that part yet.” Stephen confessed. Mordo shook his head and explained, “temporal manipulations can create branches in time. Unstable dimensional openings. Spacious paradoxes! Time loops!” You interrupted Mordo, “you want to get stuck reliving the same moment over, and over, forever, or never having existed at all?” you asked in disbelief. Stephen tried to laugh, “they really should put the warnings before that stuff.”

“I told you that!” you shouted in frustration, “I told you that warnings go after the spell!”

“Either way, they really should-”

“Stephen!” you cried out, “your curiosity could have gotten you killed.” “You weren't manipulating the space-time continuum,” Mordo explained, “you were wrecking it.” He looked disapprovingly at Stephen, “we do not tamper with natural law. We defend it.”

“Don’t do that.” You stated stubbornly and refused to look Stephen in the eye, “don’t...mess with stuff you don’t understand.” You finished quietly and wiped a tear that had fallen.

“I clearly understood it if I could do it, and I read through the book.” Stephen protested.

“Ha! You didn’t ‘read through the book,’” you finally looked at Stephen and met your watery eyes with his shocked ones, “you only read part of it. Like you said, you hadn’t got to the warnings part yet.”

“Wha? (f/n), is this sentiment coming through?” he asked in amusement.

“Shut up Stephen!” You shoved his shoulder with enough force he had to step back to regain his balance. “I’d have to be pretty heartless to not care about you.” You answered, “though it seems heartless-ness is something you excel at.” You muttered under your breath.

“If you’re done having your domestic-” Mordo started.

“Oh my gosh Mordo!” you shouted, “this was not a domestic!” you pointed rapidly between the two of you.

Mordo ignored your outburst and trained his concentration on Stephen, “how did you learn to do that?” he gestured to the Eye of Agamotto, “where did you learn the litany of spells required to even understand it?”

“I’ve got a photographic memory,” Stephen explained, “it’s how I got my M.D. and Ph.D at the same time.”

“What you just did,” Mordo once again gestured to the Eye of Agamotto, “takes more than a good memory. You were born for the mystic arts.”

“Hold up,” you stepped into the conversation, “how can you conclude that?”

“It takes years for someone to have the skill to utilize the Eye of Agamotto. I’m sure you can’t even do it yet,” Mordo explained and you frowned at his comment, “and he was able to do it in weeks.”

“What about you,” you continued to sulk and crossed your arms, “can you utilize the Eye?”

“I’ve never tried.” Mordo answered simply.

Stephen shook his head, “I side with (f/n), my hands still shake.” He lifted his hands up to show that they were indeed trembling.

“For now, yes.” Mordo agreed.

“Not forever?” Stephen asked excitedly.

“We’re not prophets.” Mordo shook his head in denial, “come.” He gestured and led the way down the hall. You gestured for Stephen to go first and you were about to follow them when your pager shrieked.

“(f/n)?” Mordo and Stephen turned to look at you as you looked down at the pager.

“You guys go on ahead. Looks like I’m needed at the hospital.” You opened a portal into your room to change, “and it was my off day too.”

You hurriedly changed and portaled a block away from the hospital. You were still straightening your clothes when you burst into the hospital.

“Oh (f/n)! I’m so glad you could make it!” Christine gestured for you to follow her.

“What’s the emergency?” you asked and pulled your hair into a ponytail.

“Our other cardiovascular surgeon is in the middle of a surgery right now, but this guy needs immediate attention.” She explained and led you to a surgery room, “it’ll be quick.”

“Got it.” You responded and entered the room to do your job. Like Christine explained, it was quick and you were out in minutes. Which proved to be excellent timing as you got a text from Stephen. You frowned, you didn’t remember giving him your phone number. It was a simple text with one word, ‘Kaecilius’, and you jumped to look for Christine. “Christine!”

“Yeah?” she asked and looked at you.

“Listen, I’ve got to go. It’s an emergency.” You hurriedly told her.

“Go ahead. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“Thanks Christine!” you called over your shoulder and ran out of the hospital. You found an alleyway and portaled straight to the front of the New York sanctum and burst through the doors.

“I’ve got to hand it to you Kaecilius.” You called out and he spun around to face you, “you didn’t pick an awful time.”

“Who is this chick in scrubs?” you heard one of the zealots mutter.

“This ‘chick in scrubs’ is actually a doctor in scrubs!” you corrected, “and I’m going to kick your butt!” behind them you saw Daniel shaking his head. “Oops, guess I lost the element of surprise didn��t I?”

“Yep!” he shouted.

“Give me a break Daniel! I’m trying to be cool here!” you protested and noticed Stephen standing on the balcony above, “I need to be a cool mentor!”

“Quit while you’re ahead (f/n)!” Daniel laughed.

“Shut up Daniel!” without warning a zealot ran at you with his spear poised to stab you. You jumped and spun around in the air and kicked him in the face as you spun around. “At least give me a chance to change!” you shouted indignantly and formed a shield on your left forearm to block the next attack. You flipped over the zealot and landed on his back while simultaneously transforming your shield into your favorite weapons. The two ice chakrams. Before the zealot had a chance to throw you off you jumped off of him but the other zealot ran straight into the area where you were about to land.

“Nope!” you heard Daniel yell and a whip shot out and pulled the zealot away from you.

“Hey Stephen!” you shouted and ducked another stab, “if you feel up to it, you can join in!” you brought a chakram around to slice at the zealot’s legs but he jumped out of the way. You jumped up and threw both chakrams at him.

“Oh, so now I can fight?” Stephen asked in annoyance.

The chakrams returned to you and you snatched them out of the air, “only if you want to. It’s experience!” the zealot ran at you and you spun around and kicked him away. “Daniel and I got this!” you smirked and risked a knowing glance to Daniel.

“Are you still good at that one spell?” Daniel questioned and grunted as he ducked an attack, “because now would be a good time!”

“On it!” you responded and your chakrams dissolved as you summoned a fiery whip and hooked it onto the balcony above the lobby and swung yourself up.

“What are you doing?” Stephen asked as you stood next to him and held your hands together in a symbol.

“Magic.” You replied without looking at him since you’re eyes were closed, “now stop talking.” You started to chant the incantation for the spell and a wind was throw up around you and snowflakes started to form within the whirlwind. Beside you, Stephen had staggered back and held up an arm to shield his eyes. The whirlwind was picking up speed and the snow around you was thickening with you in the center of it all, chanting the entire time.

Neither you nor Stephen noticed a zealot run at you and land a punch straight to your face through the whirlwind. You screamed and fell to the ground and the whirlwind dissipated in a second. You scrambled to get back up in your dazed state but a weight landed itself onto your chest and you blinked to recognize the zealot sitting on you.

“She’s too much trouble,” you heard Kaecilius call out followed by a grunt as he dodged a punch from Daniel, “kill her.”

“No!” you heard two voices yell out and the zealot formed a space shard poised for your heart.

“(f/n)!” you heard Stephen scream and the weapon rushed down at your chest.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. One of your arms raised to meet the zealot’s arm to block the blow. It didn’t completely block it, but it did cause the zealot to lose her mark and instead stab you in the stomach. Time resumed it’s normal passage and you screeched. Not even a moment later the zealot was yanked from your body as Stephen’s whip wrapped itself around her and tossed her ungraciously over the railing.

“(f/n)! (f/n)!” Stephen rushed to your side.

“There’s still a battle going on Stephen!” you winced, “it’s not fatal.” You used one hand to push him away while the other clutched at your wound to stanch the bleeding, “help Daniel.” When he didn’t move you shoved him harder, “go!”

That shook him out of his reverie and he scrambled up to his feet to go and help Daniel, “stop!” he cried out and leapt over the railing of the balcony to deal with what had happened.

You looked down at your stomach to see the dark red blood quickly seeping through your scrubs, “and these were my nice ones too.” You sighed. You took your shirt and ripped off the lower half of it. Not enough to reveal too much, but enough to provide pressure for your wound. You took it and wrapped it around your wound and tied it tight.

“This better hold up.” You muttered to yourself. Stephen, followed by Kaecilius and his two zealots bound up the stairs and you were no longer hidden from them. You drew out a whip made of the normal red matter as one of the zealots ran at you. You swung the whip around in an attempt to keep the zealot away. It registered in the back of your mind that Daniel was nowhere to be seen. The zealot broke through the line of fire and you barely managed to put up a shield before the zealot was in your face with the space shard pressing down on your shield.

“I don’t want to kill you.” You told the zealot.

“Too bad,” she snarled, “because I do.” She abruptly spun away and came at you with renewed vigor. At the last moment you dodged her and ran out of the balcony to keep you from being cornered in the wall. Your adrenaline was quickly muting the pain from the wound.

You turned around the next corner and fell into the ceiling. The hallway was spinning round and round at Kaecilius’ whim. The other zealot fell around the corner but got back up onto her feet much quicker. At the end of the hallway was the Rotunda of Gateways with one of the gateways broken open. The hallway turned again and this time everyone grabbed onto something to keep from falling through the gateway.

You formed a whip out of the cooler blue substance and hooked it onto the wall. You then swung up to face the other zealot and kicked her hand that was holding onto the ledge of the wall. She screamed and fell down into the gateway, barely skimming past Stephen.

“A little warning would be nice!” he called up to you. You gave him a cheeky smile and dropped down as well. Your whip wrapped itself around a door, but it wasn’t necessary since the hallway corrected itself. You ran towards the dial in front of the gateways but another zealot stopped you by throwing a space shard at you, which you (luckily) dodged.

Stephen then interfered by punching the zealot in the face. You took this opportunity to turn the dial, therefore trapping the other zealot. Stephen managed to throw the zealot into the forest and you spun the dial.

“Good job.” You panted. You started to calm down and the wound made itself known. You winced and placed your hand on the wound. It was bleeding more profusely than ever and the fabric was hot and sticky from blood. You leaned against the wall as your knees started to feel weak.

“(f/n)!” Stephen gasped as he saw how bloodied your clothes were and how pale you were.

You shook your head (which you regretted since you were taken over by a wave of nausea), “Kaecilius. Where’s Daniel?”

Stephen’s answer was interrupted by Kaecilius running up to Stephen with his space shards poised to hit. Stephen ducked and ran down the hall. Kaecilius then turned to you and you dodged and ran down the hall that Stephen ran down. Each step sent pain through you and your vision started to fade in and out. You gritted your teeth as you followed Stephen.

You turned a corner and nearly ran into Stephen who was pulling down a wardrobe, “it won’t do anything, leave it!” you commanded and continued to run.

The two of you made it into the room full of relics, “(f/n), hide. You can’t fight like this.” Stephen ordered.

“I won’t just leave you.” You argued.

“You’re a lot less helpful if you’re dead. You’re losing blood, we don’t have time. Hide!” he shoved you aside and you stumbled, but you followed his words and ducked into another hallway and tucked yourself behind a cabinet.

You ripped a piece of fabric from your pants and wrapped it around your wound. You took deep breaths as you tried to calm down your racing heart. You winced as you heard the sound of breaking glass. As much as you wanted to run to Stephen’s aid, you had to trust that he could hold his own. There was the sounds of more fighting, shoes being dragged against the ground, and then silence. As much as you had faith in Stephen, you couldn’t stand sitting down doing nothing. You tried to get back onto your feet, but the blood quickly rushed from your head and you fell forward. ‘Sorry Stephen.’ You thought to yourself as your eyes closed.

Masterlist

Taglist: @panhoeofmanyfandoms @daydreamer-in-training @marine-captain-deku

#doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange x you #reader insert #x reader #marvel #marvel reader insert #mcu #mcu reader insert #marvel imagine #dr strange #benedict cumberbatch #marvel reader insrt #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic series

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hollenka99 · 3 years

Text

The Doctor’s Sons

Summary: This entire clone situation with Ranboo has been occupying Docza’s mind but not for the reasons Techno seems to think.

Warnings: Implied/referenced death

If he was going to be honest, he wasn't particularly paying attention to the conversation going on behind him. He thinks it was about Techno's experience of travelling in the TARDIS with him. Whatever Technoblade and Ranboo were discussing, he was glad the two of them were getting along. This entire cloned offspring situation had thrown him for a loop. It certainly complicated matters. He would rather focus on figuring out how best to placate both sides of the war between the humans and Hath. Although, undeniably, he may have developed a soft spot for Ranboo without entirely meaning to like Techno had. "You will. Won't he, Doctor?" He is brought back to the present. "Hmm?" "Do you think Ranboo'll see any new worlds?" "I suppose so." A warm smile forms on his face. As unsure as he was about these events, there's no doubt he wouldn't mind another friendly face tagging along. "You mean- You mean you'll take me with you?" "Well, can't leave you here, can we?" "Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you." Ranboo's arms find themselves around the Doctor before he can react. It is too familiar of a feeling. Wilbur stares down at the key his father had handed him moments before. "You're trusting me with your TARDIS?" "Well, better than you stealing one like I did." The force of the hug is not something he is expecting. "Thank you, Dad, thank you! I promise I'll take good care of her." "You'd better. And don't be gone for too long, okay?" With a grin, his son pulls away. "You got it." "Come on, let's get a move on." And like that, Ranboo is rushing off round the corner. For a split second, he could have sworn Tommy was the one leaving his sight. "Careful, there might be traps!" "Kids! They never listen." He can feel Techno glancing at him, face falling as he realises his Time Lord friend isn't so ready for joking around. "Oh, I know that look. You see it a lot where I'm from. Piglins with frowns and smaller versions of themself. You've got Dad Shock." His brows momentarily furrow. "Dad Shock?" "Sudden unexpected fatherhood. Takes a bit of getting used to." Ah. "No, it's not that." "Well, what is it then? Having Ranboo in the TARDIS, is that it? What's he going to do, cramp your style? Like you've got a sports car and he's going to turn it into a people carrier?" Might as well be truthful. "Techno... I've been a father before." "What?" "I lost all that a long time ago, along with everything else." "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me? You talk all the time but you never say anything." "I know. It's just... when I look at him now, I can see them. The hole they left, all the pain that filled it. I just don't know if I can face that everyday." And it's true. If he allowed himself the chance to truly reflect on it, he'd be too preoccupied with all the memories Ranboo had unintentionally caused to resurface.

----- Wilbur appears at the door of the TARDIS with baby Tommy on his hip. He nearly doesn't notice, busy with performing maintenance on the console, but when his eyes catch on his son by the entrance, he happily pauses to face them with wires still in his grip. "Is something up?" "Oh, it's nothing. Just thought you might want to know Tommy's found a new way of getting around so everybody better watch out." He moves so the infant is positioned to stand of his own accord. Crouched, he encourages his brother. "Hey Tommy, you want to show Dad what you can do?" Tommy obliges by taking a number of clumsy steps before collapsing to the floor. Oh forget the wires, so long as he kept them away from the toddler's reach, it wouldn't be a problem. By the time he's taken a step forward, he is going back on his initial reaction. Come to think of it, there was only more work to be done now. His hands weren't entirely clean either. And besides, there was time to celebrate this milestone later. "That's amazing, boys. Guess I need to Tommy-proof the TARDIS now that he's walking. Call for me if you need anything." "Sure. Come on, Tommy." He throws open the doors. "This, boys, is Spica, in the constellation of Virgo. Or, at least, what's left of it because in a few short minutes, it's going to begin collapsing in on itself." "You've taken us to watch a star die?" Wilbur raises an eyebrow. "What's the point in travelling the universe if you can't admire the view every now and again?" He smiles. "We'll stay here for a little while then I'll bring us a few weeks forward so you can both see the supernova at its peak." True to his word, their father soon repositions them so they have a more enticing display to witness. Arms on both of his sons' shoulders, they all marvelled at the sight before them. "One day, when you're both done with the Academy and only if you want to, of course, I will show you the universe. Then, perhaps, you might want to see it for yourself and show me things I've missed. Sound good?" Wilbur, already intrigued by it from a young age but in love with the prospect ever since he faced the vortex in its purest form, beams at him. "Definitely." "Will we get to see more stuff like this? It's really pretty." Tommy asks in a voice that is small yet paradoxically loud. "Oh, you bet. All of time and space with just the three of us. It'll be great." "Tommy, you'll be fine." He reassures the eight year old who was due to be sent to the Time Lord Academy. "But I'll be away for so long. And... and what about the Untempered Schism?" "Yeah, maybe you'll go crazy." "Wilbur." A warning glare. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He throws his hands up, failing to suppress his grin. "It made me want to graduate as soon as possible. Arguably, not the best thing for a kid who had only started his time at school since it made me insufferable as a student but now I'm free to go where I like." "But remember, if you run, there's no shame in that. I did and I haven't really stopped. Honestly, you shouldn't even be exposed to it so young but unfortunately, it's part of growing up for us." "We'll be here for you, whatever happens." "Exactly." Tommy looks between his father and brother. He nods with more confidence than he's had all day. "Alright." When he feels a significant breeze in his living room, he knows something isn't right. His hypothesis gets proven when he sees a fireplace by one of the walls. An opening appears from the fireplace he knows he shouldn't have which reveals Wilbur and a boy with bright orange hair. "Surprise! Sorry to show up uninvited but you're a very difficult man to get ahold of. Don't worry, Tommy was the one who gave me the co-ordinates." "H-Hiya, mate. It's been a while." "Yeah... about that. This is Fundy." Once sat at a table with tea for the adults and biscuits for the kid, Wilbur launches into the story of what he had been up to since leaving home. Including, it would seem, discovering a planet where a branch of humanity's descendants had evolved camouflage abilities, meeting a half-Ichthyoan woman there and staying for her. When Fundy returns to his father's TARDIS, subsequently leaving the range of being in their earshot, the older of the Time Lords puts forward the question that had been bothering him. "Are you going to stay there indefinitely?" Wilbur chuckles. "No. You think I could do that to myself? Nah, I'm there for Sally and Fundy but once he's grown up, I think I'll leave. For now, I've been doing the same sort of thing you did. They barely notice I'm gone most of the time." "I don't think what you're doing is wise." "It'll be a while before I'm 100 and I don't plan to find myself in a situation where I'd risk regeneration any time soon. I have plenty of time to have my hearts broken. No need to rush into it with one of my first serious relationships." "If you're sure, Wilbur..." "I am. Don't worry." "You shouldn't do this." "The time for adventures is over." Wilbur says grimly. "For now, at least. I can't stand by and let our people lose this war, not if I can help in some way. Stay on the sidelines if you want, be there for Tommy. But I need to do this. I don't think I could forgive myself if I didn't do something." "Wil-" "We're meant to only observe, right? All of time and space and we're meant to let histories happen as they were supposed to, never interfering in the slightest. You can't make yourself do that. I can't either. We've made friends but we've also seen the natives of the places we visit get hurt or even die. Sometimes we had the power to prevent it but failed to do so somehow. Well, this is me trying to prevent needless deaths if that's possible. The Daleks can't win. We both know how devastating that would be to the universe. They just can't. It- it's already leaving the universe destroyed in its wake. So I'm not letting that happen, not if I have any say in it. You've made Earth your home and I'm glad you've found a place like that. But... Gallifrey is mine." His eldest son chuckles. "I can't find my Earth if Gallifrey burns right before the rest of the universe does." "I can't... I can't let you do this." "Tommy, Sally and Fundy. Look after them for me. Please. Yourself too, of course. I promise I'll be back in one piece before too long. Same face as well, hopefully." "That's not funny." Wilbur takes his hand, a grin forming. "Like I'd let a Dalek exterminate me. I swear I will be absolutely fine. You have nothing to worry about." He sighs. “Please stay safe.” “Of course.” When Wilbur heads out the door, he reiterates his promises. In a way, he does keep one of them. Wilbur does return in one piece. The only loophole was that it wasn't the way his son intended to do so. He isn't even recognisable to his own family.

Tommy activates the breaks while his father is in the middle of preparing for another trip. "You need to stop running." "Excuse me?" "Wilbur died and it seems like all you can do is jump in your TARDIS for another adventure. You refuse to talk about him, you don't let yourself stay anywhere for long or speak to people unless you absolutely have to, you- you barely even look at me either. Guess what, I miss him too. And trust me, I know I'm the worst with dealing with this sort of thing but at least I'm not acting like everything is fine. You told me it would be a trip or two to help make it easier. Bullshit. Let me go home." "What, so you can fight yourself? No, I don't think so. Over my dead body." "Yeah. Yeah, actually, you know what? I think I might. He was right. This is not the time to hop from planet to planet or from one time period to the next. I'm going home one way or another. Even if I have to sneak back to the TARDIS when your back's turned. It's not like I don't know the co-ordinates." "We are not going back to Gallifrey, it's too dangerous." "You don't have to step out that door when we land but I will." The two of them end up participating in a glaring contest. "One last trip." He offers. "Do you not understand the meaning of 'no'?" "Let me fit in one more then you can go. You can even pick our destination, if you want." With everything he has, he wishes Tommy had stood his ground and insisted on returning home. He wishes he himself hadn’t been so persistent in attempting to keep his remaining child close. At least that way, the young Time Lord wouldn't have been armed with only curses during an unexpected run in with Autons. ---- "It won't stay like that. He'll help you, we both will." "When they died, that part of me died with them. It'll never come back. Not now." "I'll tell you something, Doctor, something I've never told you before. I think you're wrong." The clone of himself with Enderian DNA sprints back into view. "They blasted through the beams. Time to run again? Love the running, yeah?" "Love the running." The pain of his conversation with Techno seemingly erased from his face, he lets adrenaline fuel this next part of the adventure.

#dream smp #philza #docza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade #ranboo #my writing #based on a scene from the doctor's daughter

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cyb-by-lang · 4 years

Text

Leaning On Each Other (Remix)

This is a while later than I expected to get it finished, but here is @writer-and-artist27‘s birthday gift. She asked for a Kei-style take on this minific she wrote a while ago, so I did a full remix.

Apologies for making it a remix instead of the requested Kei's POV of this exact scene.

“I’m telling you, the difference is all in the wrist,” Kei said, holding out a kunai as though it was a katana. She spun it between her fingers as soon as her demonstration was over. “I mean, imagine this about four times as long in the handle and with ten times as much blade, but the point still stands.”

“You’d have to get me a bokken and show me directly if you want that to make sense,” said Obito, shaking his head slightly. “Rin?”

Rin shrugged, though her eyes didn’t quite leave the blade. “The blades I deal with are even shorter. I don’t really use them to stab people outside of a medical context. If you’re stabbing someone with a scalpel, something’s gone wrong,” Rin said, even as Kei made the kunai disappear into the holster on her thigh.

“Like in the flying clipboard story?” Obito asked.

“I still don’t know the actual story behind that,” Kei said.

Rin nodded along, but only smiled mysteriously when both of her friends in this conversation turned interrogative stares her way. “It’s funnier if I don’t tell you.”

On the opposite side of the couch, Kakashi made an agreeing noise, then flipped to the next page in his book. Kei didn’t know for sure what he was reading, other than noticing earlier that the cover art was entirely in grayscale and looked kind of gloomy. If Kei had been the one reading, she probably wouldn’t have paid enough attention to the conversation to know where she was supposed to make obligatory listening sounds.

Tomoko emerged from the kitchen at this point, flopping down on the couch between Kei and Obito. Kei raised a hand to keep her head from hitting the wall, and the three of them shuffled around a bit to accommodate her.

“So, done working for now?” Kei asked, silently making sure that all of her weapons were stowed. Sure, she’d left her sword at home, but no shinobi was ever fully unarmed. It was a truth universally acknowledged that a kunai somewhere unfortunate would ruin anyone’s day.

“You know me,” Tomoko replied, not noticing the shinobi weapons-check or not saying so. She leaned against Kei’s shoulder without hesitation. “Just for now.”

“That’s what you always say,” Obito said, leaning forward over his knees to get a better look at their faces. “You should’ve let us help.”

“There was batter on the ceiling last time, wasn’t there?” Rin asked. She’d only heard this story second-hand and the details changed in the telling because no one wanted to admit they’d been the one to start shit.

“That was Kakashi’s fault,” Obito said instantly. “And we were at Kei’s house, so we only got banned there, so it doesn’t count!”

“Getting banned from any kitchen still disqualifies you from going into a professional one, I think.”

“Focus, team,” Kakashi said, but mostly sounded like it was a wordier version of the iconic Uchiha “hn.” He certainly didn’t put any force behind the order.

“Okay, okay.” Kei nudged Tomoko with her elbow. “So, what’s up? Besides a clear need for a nap.”

“Nothing but the ceiling,” Tomoko replied.

“No, really?” Kei drawled automatically. “Would’ve never guessed. Congrats on your first well-timed pun, though.”

Tomoko pouted. “It got your attention, even if it’s a horrible one. So I’ll try to be punny more often.”

“Tomo-chan!” Obito said, shaking his head.

“I don’t regret it. Fight me.”

Kei considered her options carefully. A bad pun used in verbal combat came with a number of acceptable responses, but Tomoko wasn’t Hayate—who Kei would have already shoved off the couch by this point. Possibly backflipped him over the top of it, trusting his combat training to handle the landing. Tomoko needed more delicate handling.

Therefore, Kei said, “Obito wouldn’t fight you if you paid him, puns or otherwise.”

“It was a joke!” Tomoko protested, half-sunk into a combination of Kei’s jacket and the plush back of the couch. Her voice was a little muffled and pouty as a result.

And Kei occasionally pretended she didn’t know about those conversational ripostes solely to exasperate Tomoko. She wasn’t sure Tomoko had caught on yet.

From cross the table, Rin leaned forward and said, “You need to work on your delivery, Tomo. That landed pretty flat.”

“And the Earth is round and rotating on a crooked axis, sue me,” Tomoko said childishly in return, refusing to raise her head from her new resting spot. “I’m trying and I don’t wanna move.”

“It’s almost like overworking has totally foreseeable consequences,” Kei mused, her voice lilting to take the sting out of her words.

Tomoko paused, thinking on it for a second. “…Would you have me any other way?”

The answer was immediate. “Nope.”

“Good.” A smile replaced the pout. Tomoko’s habit of puffing her cheeks out to pout mostly made Kei want to poke her. “What’s up with you?”

“Not much.” Kei shrugged as best she could with Tomoko’s head on her shoulder. “To make a long story short, Kakashi doesn’t want to give input on my totally half-assed kenjutsu lesson. Obito and Rin are being good friends and pretending they know what the hell I’m talking about.”

There was a crinkle signaling the turning of a page as Kakashi went back to reading.

“Okay, just for that? Rin and I are going to talk about things that aren’t swords,” Obito said with a comically exaggerated huff. “See how you like it.”

Kei rolled her eyes. “Oh no. Traitors, et cetera.”

Rin’s smile was helplessly fond. “All right, all right. No more sniping until we get you both on a practice range.” She turned her head. “So, Obito, did I tell you what happened when Akihito-shishō caught the nurses smuggling candy—”

Rin’s tempting gossip drew Obito’s attention wholly, which was a good indicator that everyone was indeed done with the sword story.

Tomoko turned her head so that her face was finally angled up toward Kei’s. “You know I was asking about you, health-wise?”

There were times when it seemed as though Tomoko did little else. The life of a ninja was like riding a rollercoaster with a rickety, rusted track that didn’t deserve to have so many twists and turns. Especially for how unreliable it was. Their lifestyle was a major risk to life and limb.

Kei didn’t say any of that. Instead: “Yeah, I know.”

Tomoko thumped her head against Kei’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend in the whole wide world, y’know.”

“I know,” Kei said by rote. Reincarnation time buddies! Who hopefully weren’t going to destroy the universe by accidentally turning something into a paradox.

Another bonk. “Nagareboshi Café will always be open for you, y’know.”

“I know, Tomo.” Mostly because Kei had enough people in her life that she’d never forget it now. Being able to find half her social group there on a given day made the place a landmark, even if it wasn’t also a homey spot on its own.

Sounding a little strangled now, Tomoko added after a short pause, “So then, Kei?”

“Hm?”

“Whenever you need help, whenever you’re down, you can call me up, y’know. I don’t know how well I can fix things, but I’ll try. I’ll always try.”

Kei sighed. It was half from fond exasperation, but half from genuine frustration. There was always a part of her that utterly rejected the idea of pushing any of her emotional burdens onto Tomoko. Kei had volunteered practically from the start to chase whatever means of gaining power she could, all so she could make sure her precious people were safe. That was not the choice Tomoko had made. She’d never needed to, and Kei almost needed her to stay out of the blast radius.

“Tomo, you know I’m not good at asking for—”

Bonk.

Kei went silent, raising an eyebrow in a silent question as Tomoko stared back.

“Just listen, okay?” Tomoko rarely demanded direct, sincere statements toward Kei, who was equipped with a bone-deep inclination to deflect and dismiss what she viewed as excessive verbal reassurance. “No matter what happens, no matter what you end up doing, I’ll stay with you. To the end of our days.”

Kei bit down on the urge to interrupt.

“I care about you, y’know. So when you need it, let me help you like you help me. Just get that memorized.”

Kei sighed again, reaching up to pat Tomoko’s head. “I’ll remember that.”

When she could. It wouldn’t be as easy as Tomoko made it sound, but perhaps it could be, eventually.

And that was when Obito bounced onto the couch hard enough to make Tomoko briefly airborne. She landed with a surprised “eep” with her weight still mostly on Kei’s side, but turned to face Obito.

“Obi?” Tomoko said, startled.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Kei said over Tomoko’s head. It was so much easier to downplay any surprises when she could track everyone’s location within the room. Also, she’d seen Obito move out of the corner of her eye because he definitely wasn’t being stealthy.

“Your conversation looked like it needed crashing,” Obito said lightly. “It looked heavy even from where I was standing.” He tilted his head to one side, tucking his legs underneath him. “Tomo, is Kei influencing you? Are you gonna start all your conversations with puns now? Please say no.”

“It was my first try, Obi,” Tomoko soothed, reaching over with her right hand to rest against the side of his scalp. “I can try a different joke.”

Kei shifted her weight so that Tomoko ended up leaning more Obito’s way.

“I don’t know, I think the debut worked,” Rin said, settling back in at her spot. Whatever she and Obito had talked about must’ve scared him back into this conversation. She added to Tomoko specifically, “Just maybe relax a little and let them come naturally.”

“Wordplay and swordplay are both about timing,” Kei offered, “so I could probably help.”

“I can see you being a bad influence, you know,” Obito said. “Even if you’re trying to be all underhanded about it.”

“You’re shinobi,” Tomoko said, “Everything’s sneaky and underhanded! I could’ve sworn bad puns are how eye roll considering the family-friend thing.”

Obito groaned, defeated. “Kei, you had one job!”

“If she’s not making improvised bombs in her bedroom, I’m still coming out ahead,” Kei told him. “And she’s not. I think?”

“I’m not!” Tomoko said, half-frantic at the turn. “Just baked goods, like usual!”

“Oh, if that’s the breaking point,” Obito grumbled.

Tomoko frowned thoughtfully. She rested her hand against the side of Obito’s face in apology, then said, “I’ll hold off on the puns and you can have a batch of cupcakes later. Will that be better?”

This time, there was a hum of approval. Obito closed his eyes and leaned into Tomoko’s hand like a cat, mollified for now.

That’d probably last until the next time one of Kei’s friends opened their mouths. Peace reigned until the next half-joking argument in the life of Team Minato. And most of their associates.

“Can I join in?” Rin said, though she was already cramming herself into the space on Kei’s other side with a medical textbook in her lap. Kei didn’t bother wondering where she’d gotten it from; at some point, pulling a “nothing up my sleeve” routine felt like it was expected. “This looks like fun.”

“There’s cookies near the stove if you want to grab those first, Ricchan,” Tomoko said. Her chakra felt floaty with contentment. “Just to help with the studying you have there. The cookies are sugar and snickerdoodle.”

Rin’s smile widened. “Maybe later?” She still absently opened the front cover of her book, glancing at it before leaning against Kei’s other shoulder. “This feels nice right now.”

“Just make yourself at home, I guess,” Kei said with a toss of her head, settling farther down in the couch cushions. She shuffled to handle both hers and Rin’s weights before considering. “What about you, Kakashi?”

“Hn.” He instead disappeared briefly into the kitchen, out of easy spotting range thanks to the movement limitations of the human neck. “There’s not enough space for five people on that couch. There really wasn’t for four, but apparently we’re stacking like apartment blocks,” he judged when he returned, but he settled at the group’s feet and set the plate on the table in front of them all. “I brought the cookies.”

At this point, Tomoko started humming.

Rin reached forward and retrieved her cookies, passing out others at random. Kakashi demurred, returning his attention to his book, and wrinkling his nose at the thought of eating such sweet things of his free will. He was content just basking in his friends’ company.

“Just eat and relax?” Tomoko offered, passing a cookie from Rin to Obito. “We don’t have anything going on today, so let’s pass the time like this.”

Kei leaned her head back against the top of the couch, listening with half an ear to the world around her. With sight out of the way, she could focus on her friends’ contentment through her chakra sense and live in the moment.

Tomoko’s voice rose over the impromptu cookie party:

“Dream of anything;

I’ll make it all come true.

Everything you need

Is all I have for you.

I’m forever

Always by your side.

Whenever you need a friend,

I’m never far behind.”

Obito shifted and the couch dipped under his weight. Felt like he was reaching for his next dose of sugar already. The plate scraped across the table. “Could you sing that a bit louder, Tomo-chan? I want to hear.”

“Eh?” A sudden wave of shyness swept through Tomoko. “You sure?”

“We’ve all heard you sing before, Tomo,” said Kei, keeping her eyes shut. “No pressure.”

Rin’s sun-on-water chakra perked up along with her voice as she said, “You were the one to say we should relax, right?”

There was a brief back-and-forth between the boys—banter so played-out it was almost entirely fond. Amusement passed through each of them like an electric current.

Tomoko’s voice rose again.

“If the stars all fall,

When there’s no more light,

And the moon should crumble,

It will be alright.”

Being here, with these precious people, would tide Kei over through their next absence. With the life she and her friends lived, that separation was inevitable. There was always something else coming down the pipeline and eventually disturbing their peace, but that was the future.

This was now.

“Don’t you worry about the dark,

I will light up the night with the love in my heart.

I will burn like the sun,

I will keep you safe and warm.

Like the smell of a rose on a summer’s day,

I will be there to take all your fears away.

With a touch of my hand,

I will turn your life to gold.”

Kei seared the moment into her memory, to keep it like a light against the darkness still to come.

#the sea and stars #snippet #snippets #keisuke gekko #hoshino tomoko #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #team minato

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louiserandom · 4 years

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Choose Your Own Adventure - MadaTobi Soulmate AU Arc II

Heart’s Desire (Ice and Fire)

Rated: E

Summary: A touch is all it takes, to find one’s soulmate, to initiate an exchange of chakra natures and powers that would later intermingle and make both of them stronger. Madara craves this—or at least thinks he does, until he awakens one morning sans Sharingan, his chakra alien and freezing, and watches an angry Senju Tobirama crash into his room, glaring murder at Madara with what used to be his exclusive Mangekyō pattern.

Or, Soulmate Idiots in Love and you get to choose how these fools get to the love part

A/N: Finally got to the second arc :3 Arc I updated over here. Read the whole story on AO3 or Arc II under the cut :3 (and just in case, all the survey comment replies will be on AO3)

Chapter 6

Madara awakens feeling refreshed and oddly comfortable, with vague memories of surprisingly enjoyable dreams. A pleasantly warm weight rests atop him, quiet birdsong echoing from the outside as the sun’s rays caress his eyelids.

The morning seems perfect.

Right up until the second he opens his eyes to see a fluffy mass of white-gray hair right under his nose and his sleep-addled brain informs him that it’s Tobirama Senju using Madara’s chest as a pillow.

Which doesn’t make any fucking sense.

What is he even—oh, right.

Memories of yesterday’s wreck of a conversation rush through his mind and he curses himself, as well as all the gods that thought it’d be a fun idea to bond him to this insolent prick.

(The insolent prick who has his arms slung around Madara like a godsdamned octopus, which really shouldn’t feel as good as it does.)

Deep breaths. No panic. Everything is going to be fine.

All Madara has to do is wake him up and push him off, not necessarily in that order.

It’s then that Tobirama squirms against him in search of a more comfortable position, just so happening to press against Madara’s crotch—and of course, Madara’s cock is half-hard.

Fuck, his thought process stalls.

That’s just his luck. Virtually nonexistent.

He attempts to reposition them to disentangle them at least a little, but that proves difficult with Tobirama’s iron hold. To make matters worse, he clutches at Madara harder after just the first hints of movement.

Fuck.

“Senju?” Madara tries, a bit panicked as he tries and fails to ignore the tingling arousal building in the base of his stomach, spurred on by the mesh of their chakras sending wave after wave of soft, thrumming pleasure through his limbs.

Fuck.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t wake Tobirama just yet.

“I hate you,” Madara whispers, not quite sure whom he’s talking to—Tobirama, the gods, or himself.

Using more of his strength but still being slow and careful, Madara forcefully flips them over, pins Tobirama’s wrists with his and lifts his hips to avoid… unnecessary friction.

Well. That’s one problem solved.

Despite the scuffle, Tobirama somehow remains asleep, and a slight frown is his only reaction to the movement.

The sight makes Madara pause.

It’s so strange seeing him like this, unbothered by bureaucratic concerns or obsessive research, completely relaxed next to someone who was, not too long ago, an enemy. With long white lashes resting on his cheeks, lips slightly parted and his hair strewn on the pillow, chest rising and falling with soft, even breaths, Tobirama looks… unthreatening. Approachable. Peaceful. It’s mesmerizing in a way that makes Madara lament his lack of Sharingan so he can’t embed this rare occurrence into memory.

The thought seems normal, until it doesn’t, and the panic returns full force.

Fuck.

He scrambles off the bed and, ignoring the pulses of pain returning to gnaw at him and goes to sit at his desk, willing his heartrate to slow down, godsdammit.

It’s just the bond, he thinks, and a mild case of morning wood.

Nothing to panic about, right?

Except there is. There’s still the exhilaration and the sheer bewilderment he feels at the situation fate’s gotten him stuck in. The realization that after a whole life spent searching, yearning for a soulmate he’s finally found his. And that despite the hostility, despite the insults and quips the Senju keeps throwing his way just to be annoying, Madara foolishly, desperately wants. Wants something he can’t have, because Tobirama isn’t nearly as enamored with the idea of a life partner as Madara would expect… anyone to be, really.

But as he often is, Tobirama is an anomaly.

Not in any negative sense, as Madara has come to find out in the year he’s gotten to know him off the battlefield.

(Although he had been guilty of uttering the occasional insult when the peace talks were just starting, and tensions were high. Back then, Tobirama had been known as nothing more than the Senju demon, the Senju freak among his clanmates—for his ruthless reputation and the terrifying, unheard-of jutsu he created.)

It took Izuna working the one project with Tobirama at the start of the village’s construction. Cooperating with the man made him realize that Tobirama was all right, really, which spurned his ensuing rambling about his new “best friend—I can’t believe he’s not my platonic soulmate, nii-san,” and that made it all the more easy for Madara to stop seeing Tobirama as a lingering threat.

He began to see, instead, that Tobirama stood out not with his freakish experiments but his genius, working around jutsu limitations and making scientific breakthroughs like it was nothing. It was jarring, too, that he seemed to take their village even more seriously than Hashirama did, presenting plan after plan for every sphere ranging from infrastructure to electricity to the educational system, all written up during his teen years, way before peace between their clans was a possibility. He performed unthinkable feats with his water jutsu (and Madara hadn’t even suspected that blood manipulation was in the realm of possibility), was proficient in all five elemental releases and easily the best sensor in Fire Country, and yet still managed to make it all look like no big deal.

Like it was a given.

Madara sighs. The man is an intriguing paradox. One that he’ll have fun trying to solve, he thinks.

A glance back at the bed has him shaking with laughter at the sight of Tobirama hugging a pillow, now that Madara is out of his clutches. One thing Madara would never have guessed about the man is how clingy he is in his sleep. And that he is, apparently, by no means a morning person, despite how organized and scarily efficient he is at every hour of the day. Now he’ll have the striking image of Tobirama cuddling a pillow (and possibly drooling all over it) to juxtapose to that.

His soulmate is a ridiculous man, indeed.

Madara diverts his eyes when Tobirama turns again, dragging the edges of his yukata to open up more of his chest—that’s definitely not a distraction he needs right now.

It’s at that moment that he feels a suddenly much sharper jolt of pain that almost makes him cry out if not for his lungs feeling as if they’re on fire.

Madara tries to stand and promptly falls over to his knees, the pain crippling to the point that his vision starts blacking out.

Ah, shit.

Probably someone overpowering a jutsu nearby, or throwing an unnecessary temper tantrum, or something monstrous passing by the village and assaulting his senses—the increasing pain makes it impossible to focus on trying to figure it out, and Madara shuts his eyes in hopes of drowning out the world around him.

Hopefully, it isn’t an attack, because Madara is as good as dead if he’s forced to defend himself.

He calls for Tobirama but isn’t sure whether any sound actually comes out. He manages to keep himself from falling face-first to the floor, but just barely, supporting himself on shaky hands as icepick blades chip away at his strength and consciousness. There’s loud banging echoing from afar, getting nearer and further away intermittently, and suddenly the whole room is pulsating with energy, the wood beneath Madara’s palms starts burning with hostile energy. Madara manages to curb an impending to a muffled grunt and huddles to the nearest corner, overwhelmed and hurting, desperately willing this to stop.

Gods. What a terrible way to die.

Only he doesn’t, and the throbbing agony subsides the instant he feels all-too-familiar hands on his shoulders, a distant but soothing voice saying Madara’s name over and over again.

Tobirama.

His touch is… safe. Easing the pain almost entirely, enough for Madara to reopen his eyes—and promptly close them again just to block out the sight that greets him.

“Ugh. What the fuck are you doing here?”

The one person Madara had spent the whole of yesterday avoiding, whom he wasn’t ready to face, what with the inevitable overemotional reaction and the very predictable questions—Hashirama is there, kneeling next to his brother and staring at Madara with that annoying puppy-eyed look of his.

“Madara, what’s wrong?”

Predictable question number one.

“Are you injured—you look injured—where does it hurt?”

Two.

“And Tobi, why are your eyes bleeding? Why are your eyes the Sharingan? What the hell is going on?”

Three. Four. Five. Ad infinitum.

Madara responds with a glare.

“Can you get him out of here?” he says, tilting his head to Tobirama, who’s running his hands softly along Madara’s back, his arm, through his hair. It would feel heavenly if not for the eyesore that is Hashirama’s concerned face ruining everything—and his monstrous chakra that still causes him pangs of pain, despite Tobirama’s closeness. “Please?”

“Anija,” Tobirama says, albeit uncertain, “it really isn’t a good time.”

“But Tobi, you’re both wounded!” Hashirama looks torn between moving to heal one or the other, fingers already glowing green. “Madara, where does it hurt? Did you have a fight like I explicitly asked you not to?”

Madara growls, recoiling from the idiot’s hands and banging his head against the wall behind him. It doesn’t even make the migraine worse than it already is.

“Madara isn’t hurt, Anija.” Tobirama reaches to run his hands through Madara’s hair, massaging his scalp softly. Gods, but how quickly that curbs the. Madara isn’t letting Tobirama anywhere out of his hold from now on. “We’re soulmates. We exchanged chakras just yesterday, so we’ll be adapting to the different natures for a while.”

Hashirama gapes.

“Soulmates. You. You two?”

Madara scowls. He himself had much the same reaction but it still irks him to see Hashirama, the ever-sappy fool, as shocked by the news as he was.

“Yes,” Tobirama replies, “Madara seems to be overwhelmed by my sensing range and the unfamiliar chakra is causing him pain. This,” he points to his eyes, tinged red and bleeding around the edges, “is the effect of the Sharingan.”

“Let me.” Hashirama moves to coat Tobirama’s eyes with iryo chakra. “You should have come to me the minute this happened, Tobi. You know the initial side-effects of bonding can be permanent.”

“I’m fine. And this isn’t just the bond’s side-effect,” Tobirama says, pausing for a moment before he goes on, “it’s the Mangekyō, in general. Apparently, it deteriorates eyesight.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Hashirama asks stiffly. “Madara?”

Madara stays silent, ignoring Hashirama’s frown and the way he shoots Madara that look of utter disappointment before returning his focus to the task at hand. He watches Hashirama strain with whatever manipulations he’s attempting, hesitant to admit even to himself the slight hope he feels, that maybe, just maybe, this is the one thing that’s going to work.

Hashirama lowers his hands, a deep frown on his face, as Tobirama clutches at his eyes with a quiet hiss of pain.

“It’s… not working,” Hashirama admits, “I have no idea how but… I-I think I only made it a bit worse, is all.”

“WORSE?” Madara would have hit him, were it not for Tobirama holding him back. “Hashirama, get the fuck out of here before I do something you will regret.”

“I won’t,” Hashirama says, pinning Madara with a glare of his own. “Not until you explain why you didn’t tell me about this before.”

“Because it’s none of your concern,” Madara snaps.

“That’s what you said to me, actually,” Tobirama says, just to be contrary, it seems, “and we’ve talked about that—”

“It’s not the same, Tobirama, and shut up!” Madara shoves him off and away in a fit of foolishness. The pain submerges him once more and he gasps at the force of it—not for long, because Tobirama is back again, arm wrapping around Madara’s shoulders, chakra grounding him, soothing and comforting.

All the things he doesn’t really deserve, does he?

Hashirama looks torn again. Madara takes a deep breath. Hashirama is not to blame for his chakra, and his concern is understandable. There’s no need to be so harsh with him. Madara forces himself to ask nicely.

“We can talk later,” he tells his friend, keeping his voice even, “please. Just not now. Leave and tone down your chakra while you’re at it.”

Hashirama frowns, confused. “But it’s how it always is when I’m not actively using it.”

“He’s right,” Tobirama says, throwing Madara an apologetic look. “It’s all over the place, all the time.”

“Oh, great.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about, though,” Hashirama insists, with all his Senju stubbornness that Madara is really getting tired of as of late. “How long have you known about what the Mangekyō does, Madara?”

“Since I was born,” Madara says, “I’m not the only one with it, obviously.”

“Then why the hell did you use it so much during the war? You should have told me—”

“You just said, the war, treehead. Our clans were at war. What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

“Not use it? I wouldn’t have gone as hard as I did. You’re my friend, you know that!” Hashirama is, of course, oblivious to the implicit insult in that statement. “Or, I don’t know, you could’ve accepted the peace earlier?”

“Can you forget for one second about your godsdamned peace?” Madara says upon an exasperated sigh. “Just this once?”

“Not really, when an earlier stop to the war could have prevented your eyes getting this bad!” Hashirama waves his hands to the Mangekyō still burning bright behind Tobirama’s half-closed eyelids. The man looks just about ready to strangle them both. “This—this bleeding and the dead and unhealable cells!”

“Senju—" The vase and the glass of water on his desk fracture as Madara senses, viscerally, how the water in the pond outside, in every piece of plant life starts churning in response to his anger.

“Anija, please,” Tobirama implores, placing a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder, “just let this be for now. I’m working—we’re working on a way to fix this.”

“Glad to hear that, Tobi, awesome, amazing,” Hashirama says in a tone that does little to match the words, standing up to pace in front of them, riling up his chakra even more because apparently, he’s an utter idiot. “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have just come to me earlier, Madara, and—oh, I don’t know, prevented the countless deaths in the war? Kept not just yourself, but your clanmates from going blind? Discovered your soulbond sooner, for gods’ sakes?”

For a while, Madara is at a loss of what to say. It’s too familiar an accusation. Such a familiar pain—the reminder that no matter what Madara does, it’s always wrong, or mediocre, or lead to disaster. Somehow, coming from Hashirama this way, it’s so much harsher than when Tobirama blamed him for the same inaction.

Neither brother knows that Madara issued a decree forbidding everyone without an Eternal Mangekyō from using it the second he became Clan Head. That little to nobody listened to him, unwilling to let him bear the brunt of the burden in the war. That he couldn’t even begin to understand where to look for answers to keep his people from being blinded by this curse, the elders too stuck up their ideals to try something that might possibly upset the gods—and too loyal to his father’s ideals to even consider the prospect of peace until the volatile ultimatum Madara had faced them with.

(A failure, so many voices call from his memories, you always will be.)

“There were reasons I couldn’t, dumbass,” Madara says, tone biting, holding back the chakra that yearns to lash out at his friend. “And oh, what a delightful fucking experience. A soulbond so painful it makes want to kill myself.”

It’s an unnecessary, spiteful remark he utters only because he’s peeved that Hashirama, of all people, would know how much a soulbond means to he, knows where to strike the hardest.

Madara feels Tobirama flinch just after he realizes what he’s said.

“Wait—I didn’t…” It’s too late, as always, to hold back his thoughtless, stupid words. Tobirama is still there with him, still holding on to him, albeit with a face that’s back to its neutral, unfeeling expression. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t appreciate you upsetting my brother, Madara.”

And now Hashirama is truly angry at him. Even better.

Madara glares at him, facing Hashirama’s dark eyes glowing with a light-green hue, his chakra permeating every piece of wood on the room, clashing against Madara’s senses.

“We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down then,” Hashirama says in what Madara’s dubbed his ‘Hokage voice, “And I expect a more coherent explanation. Tobirama?”

The man in question lifts his head. Madara half-expects Hashirama to bark out a command at him, but the words he utters next are soft, almost hesitant, “Will you come with me?”

Madara turns his head away, feeling his eyes prickle with treacherous, unshed tears. Of course, he’s ruined everything once more. With words said in anger, without thought or reason—something Izuna incessantly warned would get Madara into trouble again and again, but Madara never listens.

And now his soulmate is leaving, the sliver of progress they’ve made towards some kind of relationship squandered by Madara’s stupidity.

Then again, another thing Izuna keeps telling him is to own up to his mistakes. So Madara does, forcing himself to look back at Tobirama, hoping to the gods his expression doesn’t reveal how utterly dejected he feels.

Tobirama contemplates him for a few torturous moments, face impassive, then turns back to face his brother. “I’m sorry, Anija. But I’m going to have to stay.” Its evident, the strain in his voice, the way it pains him to say it, but his chakra feels determined, steadfast, almost protective as it winds further around Madara’s own. “I’ll find you the minute I get to the Tower, I promise.”

Tobirama is looking at the floor, face marred by a frown. “We’ll meet today as we decided. After work. You know the training ground.” He gives Madara’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll try to have that seal ready for you.”

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#choose your own adventure #madatobi #soulmate au #lou writes

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ardenttheories · 5 years

Text

Weird notes and thoughts on Pesterquest: Volume 6, under the cut because this shit got long.

GAMZEE

Gamzee calls the Reader “sister”? Several times, in fact.

The Rage symbol is hidden in Gamzee’s pie.

Gamzee “moves on marianette strings” and his eyes flash as he stands up, which indicates that the movement is controlled by someone else (additionally that refusing to eat pie immediately loses him his free will?)

Either Gamzee is being funded by someone/something, or we’re literally just seeing troll Amazon in action.

The reader is a colossal dumbass for leaving a raging highblood to see “what would happen” in the future (although maybe if they’d stuck around they would’ve seen much sooner what was going to happen)

Gamzee, when raging, doesn’t want to see himself; he goes out of his way to destroy every reflective surface

When raging, Gamzee always scars his face. He does it here, too - which seems odd. Either he did it himself, or Kanaya did it - either way, it must be symbolic.

(Amended to the above, maybe the slash represents the Bardic Split - which we see fully when half of Gamzee is sucked up into Lil Cal. Slashed face = full Rage Bard)

The Reader mentions that they feel like they’ve seen everything as if someone else did it, so we’ve got that same odd instance of Reader remembering other timelines - which means there isn’t one “Alpha” Reader, and that all outcomes merge back into the Reader eventually.

Someone “spoke to Gamzee” about the truth of the world. If he thinks the Reader is going to “meet him soon”, maybe he means someone in the Dreambubbles? Like LE?

Considering this is a timeline where Gamzee goes off the wall and kills everyone (or so it seems, since he’s yet to be stopped), could this allude to the honk HONK timeline? Can’t remember if they ever entered the game or not. It’d be a nice touch if so!

The pie is definitely NOT something you’re meant to eat, and I’d assume the initial nausea is Reader’s body trying to reject it before the effects kick in. Now we know what it’s like, there’s literally no surprise that Gamzee eats the pie all the time. It really does dampen him - but with a much stronger, more immediate effect.

(Amended to the above, if Gamzee is easily influenced to Split as soon as he stops eating the pie, then consistently eating is key. Explains why even refusing to eat once hashes him out.)

“Someone wants you to forget. Forget all of your friends and past adventures”. So, Reader is likely still very much under Doc Scratch’s control? Or if not Doc Scratch, then something else (maybe just the narrative) - but interesting to note how it doesn’t work while Reader is high.

The sopor slime really must block out any and all attempts from outside influences to control the mental flow of the consuming character.

Trying to go to the Friendsim timeline causes something very wrong to occur; Reader is literally blocked out from it, and managing to do it seems to fuck everything up for a split second. I have no idea what the T-posing alien was for, though.

VRISKA

“You step on a weird bug and you don’t even care” that’s a reference but I can’t for the life of me remember it. EDIT: FOUND IT. Page 797 of Homestuck, titled “Jade: Lose interest in fauna and never speak of it again”, the narrative details her being a majestic beast and ends with “you eat a weird bug and don’t even care”.

The Reader is still being forced to make new friends. Even when their feelings are very much against this - and I assume they are still struggling with that concept of doing things with no meaning - their narrative is forcing them to do it.

Vriska trans.

Vriska steals Reader’s luck. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it, I think, but I’m assuming that’s what it is. I’m also assuming this is why the Reader can’t speak out against her at first, and all of our options are just one box; she’s stealing their narrative importance, too, and the only good outcomes are ones that favour her and her ego/character.

Vriska deciding not to rag on Reader for up-chucking is oddly kind of her, but at the same time you’re getting this really heavy handed sense that she’s a lonely girl - the same one we got in her conversations with John in actual Homestuck. Feels like this might replicate that sort of friendship? Where she ends up opening up to John prior to going after Jack Noir about her life and how much she dislikes it.

On top of that, she seems genuinely upset when the Reader leaves. Vriska wants friends but has no idea how to make them, although that doesn’t admittedly excuse her actions towards Kanaya - though it does show more about how conflicted she is as a person.

Reader can just open up the game client at will. Reader if you ever touch the close window button I will destroy you.

Reader really dislikes having a name. It’s not a comfortable facet of their being, despite having shown they own one - likely because they’re just meant to be a vessel for our whims, and therefore shouldn’t have a name.

More implications that the Reader is living multiple canons at once that then merge together into a singular Reader at the end, since here they already know Vriska’s name before being told (which they do, in one route).

Like with the humans, Vriska can’t actually control the Reader. More hints to Reader being human? Or just to Vriska’s inability to control something that isn’t Alternian?

This Reader is, in fact, the Reader from the comic - the Land of Stumps and Dismay is clearly referenced.

Boldir appearing is so fucking sad. Poor Reader. In a more genuine sense, though, Pesterquest seems to be trying to say here that this offshoot of Homestuck isn’t fake unless we see it as such - and that, I assume, something good (and perhaps will) come of it. The Reader has complete freedom to do as they please, even if they’re still a puppet on strings for the moment - if they can remember, then they can fix it.

More clarity on the Reader; their memories are, indeed, locked away. Not gone entirely, but repressed by Doc Scratch for the purpose of the story. On top of that, Reader was definitely being used to set Act 2 of Hiveswap in place. Vibes well with the announcement of Act 2′s trailer.

This story is for the Reader - and always has been. It doesn’t belong to “them” - which I assume means Doc Scratch and Dirk, perhaps? This isn’t their story. It’s ours. “What will you do?” Vibes well with Homestuck^2′s fanonicity.

Oof. Doc Scratch returns to knock Reader down. Reader, supposedly, is only relevant because Doc Scratch says they are - as an observer, as a vessel for the story. The story can go on without Reader (although I highly suspect that it can’t, since Doc Scratch mentions “the really important bits” would survive without them - e.g. Meat could go on, but Candy couldn’t, and Pesterquest is a mix of both.)

Did Doc Scratch really just call Reader “darling”? And more references to the Reader and little girls. I’m starting to get a fairly female-vibe here when combined with Gamzee’s prior references to the Reader as “sister”. Which is ironic when you consider that the women in Homestuck tend to be the ones that carry the plot along, and the men tend to be the hands that enact it out.

Doc Scratch isn’t “the one doing this”, whatever that means. I’m assuming something along the lines of “are you controlling the narrative? Are you making this happen?” But he clearly is, I think, unless the strings we saw don’t belong to him. Or he could be refering to something else entirely, or going a bit meta (thereby saying no, he isn’t doing it, but Hussie is). Might need to think on that more.

What is the scratchy voice that screams “fix this”? Hopefully this means in the next few volumes, Reader is going to start remembering more and trying to fix the timeline - or at least stop it from being one heaving big paradox.

Vriska is really not happy about having to feed her lusus. I know it’s gone over in Homestuck, but it’s way more evident here; she does not want to do this. I think it’s sad, too, that she feels betrayed and hurt when Reader doesn’t turn around. Maybe she knows how bad it looks and knows that the Reader standing up to her makes her seem the villain? That Reader’s suddenly the hero trying to stop the big baddy from killing the innocent trolls that she doesn’t even want to kill?

Oh. Huh yeah that’s exactly what she thinks, I just didn’t read far enough before typing. I wonder how often this has happened? Or if she’s just adamantly aware that every time she feeds someone to her lusus, she’s being a bad guy - while being a victim at the same time, and struggling between the two views.

Poor Vriska. Her sobbing at the end fucking hurts. How many friends has she had to feed to her beast of a mother?

Vriska’s lusus talks to her constantly. That’s got to be hell, going through your life knowing that your mother is demanding more food from people you actually, genuinely like if you want to not be eaten by her as well.

Vriska turned on Terezi after the revenge thing because “that’s what you do to backstabbers”. I wonder if she even wanted to, then, or if she did it because she felt betrayed and hurt and that was how she dealt with being betrayed by someone who knew that she did what she did because she couldn’t not do it?

Her being down that Terezi doesn’t care anymore makes a lot of sense as to why she tried to use Kanaya to get back in with Karkat and Terezi. I think, more than anything, Vriska hates being ignored. She can handle being hated so long as there are still people there - but when they leave, and people always leave, then she’s left on her own to deal with a life she really does not enjoy.

Vriska’s concept of love is horrifically skewed by her perception of herself and of romance as dictated by Mindfang’s journal. She thinks there’s this person she has to be and she struggles deeply with it. Quite literally, tables in player handbooks that tell her who she is and what she has to do.

She’s not content with Kanaya because she thinks Kanaya sees her as something broken that needs to be fixed - which isn’t wrong, because Kanaya is trying to change her for the better, without wholly knowing what’s going on and making a lot of misconceptions because Vriska doesn’t know how to talk to her about the truth - and therefore she sees a lot of what Kanaya does as just another person wanting something from her.

I’m assuming the other “she” she mentions is Terezi - aka Terezi is the only person who cuts through the self doubt and the self hatred and these concepts of who she should be (and the voice of her lusus literally telling her she’s not good enough, on top of ther own doubts). Which would explain why Terezi’s betrayal hurts her so much.

Reader pointing out that Vriska let her guard down around Terezi only to be betrayed and force her to put up a stronger guard? That shit hurtes. Case in point, though; Vriska sets up this guard around her because she can’t afford not to (because she’ll either get hurt or end up having to feed the troll to her lusus anyway).

Vriska can save her friends by feeding her lusus enough trolls - so, more death to keep the people she likes alive. Though she mentions Karkat in line with this? Did Karkat ever meet Vriska IRL?

Schoolfeeds indoctrinate the trolls with the idea that they have to kill everyone below them so they’re more viciously okay with killing any species out in space - which are naturally lower than them in status by warrant of “not being Alternians”.

Vriska wants to be like Mindfang literally right after mentioning how Mindfang joined the Summoner’s rebellion? She really wants to change what Alternia is like. I’d go so far as to say she gives 0 fucks about the hemospectrum in truth. Seems like she wants a better world for everyone, though - not just herself.

Oof. Vriska’s self image is likely severely fucked up by her lusus. Must really fuck a 13 year old girl up to be told you’re fatter than your mom and you have to bring her more kids to feed her. Especially when you’re dying and she refuses to stop even then.

You’re looking at a survivor. At someone who did nothing wrong. FUCK that hits hard. I love the comments about Dave, Rose, and Jade, too - and the specific exclusion of John. That ramps up my “all the kids suffered prior to the game, gained what they wanted after the game - except John, who is an inversion of that” theory for his Classpect.

Reader’s taking control of the narrative! I repeat! Reader’s TAKING CONTROL OF THE NARRATIVE! Now this bodes well to future volumes, and makes me wonder if this is the first step to the Reader fixing everything.

#pesterquest spoilers #long post//#ardenttheories

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hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years

Text

Coffee Break

Summary: Flynn gets his chat over coffee, but he and Yuri still can’t help catching on each others’ rough edges.

Part of the Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In series. Link to AO3 in the notes.

The coffee shop is one of Flynn’s favorites. Not his absolute favorite, because Yuri got weird about it and shot him down when he suggested that one. But this place is still up near the top of the list. Not too expensive, either. Hopefully some good food will ease a little bit of the tension from this meet up.

Flynn tries not to fidget as he waits out front. Is his outfit alright? He didn’t know what to wear for this. When he meets his coworkers and classmates, he usually shoots for business casual. But this isn’t a coworker or a classmate, it’s Yuri, and that makes everything paradoxically more and less important. Flynn erred on the casual side, one of his favorite worn t-shirts and a light, comfortable over-shirt, and he’s still irrationally afraid Yuri’s going to show up and call it pretentious.

He’s a little early. He has no right to be anxious that Yuri is a no-show just because he isn’t here yet. Besides, Yuri’s run late for everything before and after they were on the fencing team together in high school, so—

“Hey,” Yuri says, at precisely eleven o’ clock, giving Flynn a goddamn heart attack. Flynn whips around to stare at him. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets, an untucked button-down shirt and jeans on, and a leash on one wrist that trails down to a panting but cheerful Repede. He looks just as uncomfortable as he did at the veterinary clinic. “Hope you don’t mind a third wheel. I don’t like to leave him home alone if I’ve got a choice, but I can take him b—“

“No!” Flynn says, hastily. As though he would ever be unhappy with Repede. He mentally ushers himself away from thoughts of intimate situations where he actually might prefer Repede’s absence. Those were only ever pipe dreams even at their relationship’s closest, and Yuri barely wants to talk to him right now. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll order for you while you grab one of the patio tables for us. Do you know what you want?”

“Just, like.” Yuri scrubs at his face. He seems exhausted. “A black coffee. And a plain croissant, or whatever they have that’s closest. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Flynn frowns, considering his appearance. He has dark bags under his eyes, and he looks a little pale. “Do...you want to take a rain check? Because if—“

“No,” Yuri snaps, then visibly takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I worked late. There’s not really going to be a good time to meet up when that won’t be true.”

“Okay,” Flynn says, carefully. “Coffee and a black croissant—oh, hell, I mean—“

He’s already made a fool of himself. It’s worth it, though, because a solid 75 percent of the tension leaks out of Yuri’s shoulders as he muffles laughter into his hand, a twinkle in his eye for the first time Flynn’s seen in years.

“A croissant and black coffee,” Flynn corrects himself. It’s hard not to smile in return when Yuri grins like that. God, Flynn had almost forgotten how beautiful he is. Pictures have never done Yuri justice. They can’t capture his vibrancy. “Do you want the receipt?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay you back.”

Flynn thinks about announcing it’s his treat, then remembers Yuri’s fight with Schwann at the clinic. “Sure thing.”

He leaves Yuri to pick a table and goes inside to order. Croissant, black coffee—Flynn almost orders him a large, because he looks like he needs it, but then feels guilty about making that call when Yuri’s going to be the one shelling out the extra money—and for Flynn, soup in a bread bowl and an iced tea. He loiters until the order is ready, watching Yuri through the glass shopfront. He’s slumped bonelessly into his chair, head lifted off the table just enough to look at something on his phone. Repede lounges in the shade under the table at his feet. Now that Flynn’s looking at both of them together, it’s a little disconcerting how healthy Repede is in direct contrast with how wrecked Yuri seems. Flynn shakes himself out of his thoughts long enough to collect the tray with their food and take it outside.

“So,” he says. Yuri grabs his coffee off the tray without looking before Flynn can even put it down all the way. His phone stays out until Flynn is all the way into his seat. “What’s new with you?”

Yuri shrugs. His gaze flickers up to meet Flynn’s, then back down to his croissant. “I told you, not a lot. Same routine as usual.”

“What about your new roommates?” Flynn presses.

“I don’t know what to tell you about them.”

That’s fine. Flynn works out enough to carry this conversation for a long while. Yuri will probably loosen up once Flynn can get him going. “Well, what are their names? What do they do?”

“Judy and Estelle, they’re the ones with jobs. Judy bartends and waitresses. She’s a real livewire. She does kickboxing and capoeira on the side. Estelle’s got a part time at the local library, and Hanks is a little soft on her, so he’s been giving her a little money for helping with tutoring at the community center. She’s pretty good at it, he’s been trying to get her to start her own gig. Made her draft some flyers and everything.”

“They sound fun,” Flynn says, a little wistfully. He wonders if Judy gets to spar with Yuri. He misses being able to do that. He wouldn’t mind meeting this Estelle, either—ever since Miss Estellise went missing, he hasn’t had anyone to discuss fine literature with. For a fleeting second he wonders if maybe, possibly Estelle is Estellise. Surely, though, someone would have said something to the police by now if that were true? Flynn had a meeting with Alexei just last week, and he said she was still missing. “How’d you meet them?”

“Judy and I used to work together. We both got fired for not putting up with a customer’s bullshit.” Of course they did. That’s Yuri all over. “We stayed friends after that, and she moved in a while ago after... stuff. Her business, not mine to tell. Estelle and I met at the community center. She needed a place to stay so I’m putting her up until she sorts herself out.”

“That’s very kind of you.” And just as typically Yuri as the way he got fired. He never could look away while somebody needed help and he might be able to provide it. Yuri shrugs off the praise. “You said there are others?”

“Karol and Rita,” Yuri says. He knocks back a long swig of coffee. “School kids. Twelve and fifteen. Babies, really. Technically, legally speaking, Judy and I are fostering them.”

“Didn’t Schwann—I mean, Dr. Oltorain, he said you’re in a two-bedroom apartment. They let you foster with five people in a two-bedroom apartment? How old is Judy, to be their second guardian?”

Yuri opens his mouth, starts to say something, and then closes it. This process repeats another couple times. Flynn remembers, with the beginnings of dread, that this is Yuri’s usual response to inquiries where the answer is possibly illegal, definitely not great, and sure to disappoint Flynn.

“Yuri...”

“I don’t want to lie to you, but...”

“Yuri, honestly.”

“You asked for it. Rav—Doctor... man, what the fuck is his name? All-terrain?”

“Repede has had the same vet for his entire life. How do you not know his name?”

“I know his name, just not that one.” Yuri gives him a deeply aggrieved look, like Flynn is the unreasonable one here. “He let us pretend we were living with him for the inspection.”

“He what?!”

“I didn’t want to tell you because you obviously respect him, but you asked.”

“That’s—God, that’s not even fair to the kids!”

“You’re right,” Yuri says, visibly losing patience by the second. “It’s so fucked up of me to let the kids—who chose this, I’ll point out—decide that they’d rather live with young adults they trust in temporarily less-than-ideal circumstances instead of, you know, going back to abusive households or a fucking orphanage or something.”

“Children don’t always know what’s best for them—“

“And adults don’t always listen enough to know what’s best for them, either.”

“Other people in their lives can help make that call!”

“Yeah, they did. Do you think Raven helped us get custody because we’re inept guardians?” Yuri slams a hand against the table top. His coffee sloshes dangerously in its cup. “Do you think Hanks would let me do this if he thought it was an unlivable situation? Do you think I haven’t looked at the apartment and wondered if this is really fucking okay? I don’t want them to have to live like this, Flynn! But if Karol isn’t with us, he’ll be with someone who hits him! I’m not alright with that! If Rita isn’t with us, she’ll be self-isolating and self-destructing with some stranger she hates who doesn’t care as long as she’s not actively causing them trouble and they still get a paycheck! I’m not just going to sit on my ass and watch that happen because my apartment is small right now!”

His volume gets higher and higher as he talks, until he’s almost shouting at the end. He’s on the edge of his chair, hackles raised, hands clenching the edge of the table. Flynn watches him, frozen in place. Yuri’s chest heaves for breath for a moment, until he collapses backwards into his chair, throat working with a hard swallow. When he talks again, it’s quieter.

“We’re... we’re working on it, alright? We’re trying to find a new place. Between me and Judy and Estelle, we should be able to upgrade to a three-bedroom, if we find a cheap one that isn’t also, like, filled with asbestos or some shit.”

“I had no idea,” Flynn says, softly. “I shouldn’t have—I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Yuri says, wearily. “Yell at Yuri first, ask questions later. Standard procedure.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not—you know I’ve always respected your ability to follow through in hard situations, but sometimes it’s just... I worry about you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it,” Yuri mutters.

“You never listen to me when I try to be more subtle about it!”

“When the hell have you tried to be subtle about it?!” Yuri props an elbow on the edge of the table so he can sink his face into his palm. “You never ask questions before you flip out on me, you never go ‘hey, maybe that’s not a great idea, could you explain why you’re doing it that way?’ You just jump straight down my damn throat to chew me out! Sometimes shit isn’t so clear cut, alright? I know it’s my own fault for putting myself in these situations in the first place, but sometimes you have to make a hard call.”

“I—“ Flynn rubs his hands over his own face, breathing through gritted teeth. Only Yuri has ever been this infuriating. “Why does it always have to be you? You’re always the one making the hard calls. Why can’t you let somebody else take the heat for once? Why can’t you ever give yourself a break?”

“How am I supposed to know anybody else will follow through? I can’t leave that to chance.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not trying to! How are you so determined to defend the value of human compassion and so cynical about other people at the same time? It makes no sense.”

“Are you seriously asking me why I’m cynical about the foster system?”

Flynn winces.

“Look, a lot of people are good. Karol and Rita and Judy and Estelle, they’re good. The people who would have power over them if I backed down and let things happen, they’re shit-tier, awful people. This isn’t, like, commentary on humanity. These specific people suck.”

“So get some good people with power involved.”

“Like who?”

“Like—I don’t know, like Schwann. Why couldn’t you live with him for real?”

Yuri laughs, but it sounds a little hysterical. “Flynn, Schwann Oltorain is an alcoholic.”

“What? No.”

“I told you, Judy and I see him a lot at our bartending jobs. Too much.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. If it was, I’d let him take Karol. Karol likes Raven. But I think nihilistic drunk and childcare don’t really mix. So Karol stays with me until Judy can bully Raven into attending some AA meetings.”

“He never acts drunk or hungover at the clinic.”

“So what? A high-functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as—“

“Raven agrees with me.”

...There wasn’t really a way to argue with that.

“Can I... I just want to try to explain myself.”

“By all means.” Yuri crosses his arms.

“You’re... I know it’s been a long time since we talked, but you’re still my best friend, you know that? I get it if you don’t feel that way about me anymore, but... It just feels like you’re always taking the risky moves to protect everyone else and it keeps blowing up in your face, over and over again. And I do worry about you, I really, really do. And I respect that you want to help people, and I respect that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself in the process, but it feels like you take bigger risks than you need to, sometimes, and that freaks me out.”

Yuri sighs. “What’s the smaller risk I could be taking, here?”

“I’m not even talking about this specific problem, it’s just. In general. I’m more worried about the pattern. I don’t know, get the bigger apartment first before you adopt the kids?”

“If I left the kids where they were, they’d still be getting abused while I got my shit together,” Yuri says. The fight has gone out of him again, and he just looks tired. “Besides, they’re the ones who kept showing up. The whole reason we bothered to put the paperwork through was so we wouldn’t get charged with kidnapping.”

“Jesus, Yuri.”

“I’m flattered, but no, I’m still regular old Yuri Lowell.”

Flynn snorts despite himself. “There’s nothing regular about you.”

“I’m gonna pretend that’s a compliment.”

“Good, that’s how I meant it.”

“Uh-huh. Can we change the subject now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Flynn stirs his soup a little, eating a spoonful while he thinks. It’s gone lukewarm in the time he and Yuri were arguing. “New roommates, apartment shopping... Is anything else new with you?”

“Well,” Yuri says. He’s staring down into his coffee. “Estelle had me do some tests, and it turns out I’m dyslexic. Probably. So that’s something.”

Flynn feels his face fall as he processes the news. How many years did they go to school together? Twelve? Thirteen? And he never once guessed, none of the times Yuri complained that reading was just a confusing jumble of words, none of the times Flynn watched him sit down and force himself to read something two, three times before he could glean enough information from it to answer whatever questions he needed to.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he says. He starts to reach across the table, then hesitates, then makes himself finish the action. His fingertips glance over Yuri’s wrist, just above his bracelet. Yuri’s eyes flick to his hand and stay there. “For—for not noticing, and for how hard that must—“

Yuri snorts. “Hard? It’s not like it’s doing me any harm now. I’m a dropout. You don’t exactly read all that much in the service industry.”

“Are you joking?” Flynn asks, incredulously. “Do you really think this had nothing to do with you dropping out?”

Yuri finally looks up at that, his mouth set in a grim mockery of a smile. “I mean, speaking as the one who dropped out, I’m pretty sure it was just because I blew my chance, man.”

“You’re impossible.”

Yuri shrugs. He’s done it so many times during this conversation that Flynn is starting to hate it a little bit. “Sure.”

“Can you take this seriously? Please, Yuri.”

“You used up all of my emotional honesty tokens on the last topic.”

“I really hate it when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“You get so flippant whenever you get fucked over. This is exactly why I worry about you. Would it kill you to let yourself be mad about it for once? To let me be mad for you for once?”

“If we get mad about the injustice of fate or the universe or whatever, we’ll never stop being mad. We’ll just burn out.”

“You’re already always mad.”

“Yeah, but sustainably.”

“...Elaborate.”

“I’m mad at societal systems, not the universe. We can do something to change societal systems. It’s productive anger.”

Flynn sighs, taking his hand away from Yuri’s arm to run it through his hair. As though societal systems have nothing to do with Yuri’s learning disorder and academic issues? Of course, Yuri never applies these things to himself. Somehow it only counts for other people. Flynn doesn’t know why it surprises him anymore. “Okay. Sure. Productive anger, I guess that makes sense.”

“I’m done with talking about myself,” Yuri says, abruptly. “What about you? What’s new with you? How’s vet school?”

“It’s good,” Flynn says, reflexively. It’s just Yuri. Flynn doesn’t need to persuade him that he deserves his place there. “Hard,” he admits after another beat. “It’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Yeah, it’s like... med school lite, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good way to describe it, but I haven’t been to med school, so I guess I don’t know. You would hate it, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s not really breaks, on a day-to-day level. And you start by covering anatomy with a lot of dissections.”

“...Ouch.” Yuri’s face twists into an uncomfortable moue. He always did hate dissections in high school. It’s cute, in a way, knowing that his big heart is behind it. Flynn doesn’t miss the discrete way he shifts in his seat, either, presumably bumping his legs against Repede to reassure himself. Repede makes a sleepy whuffling sound. “How about friends? Roommates? Hot dates?”

“No roommates,” Flynn says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got some study buddies from my classes, but we don’t do much together aside from classwork. It’s hard to have any kind of social life outside academia in vet school. Classes and labs and studying take up so much of my time... and now the clinic, too.”

Yuri flicks a piece of croissant at him. It lands in Flynn’s soup. This is the asshole Flynn is too hung up on to date other people. “If you’re that busy, you shouldn’t—“

“Don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t be spending time with you,” Flynn warns him. It comes out a lot sharper than he means it to; Yuri’s eyes go wide. He won’t take it back, though, not when he can see in Yuri’s face that he guessed correctly. “Working with Schwann, and getting to see you again—it reminds me why I’m doing all this work, you know? And I have to know what you’re up to if I’m supposed to keep up.”

“You, keeping up with me?” Yuri snorts. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

“You’re already helping people in the real world,” Flynn says. “I’m still in training.”

“You don’t exactly ignore people in need either, dude.”

“Take the damn compliment.”

“Oh my God, fine. Stop trying to kick me, you’re going to hit Repede.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“I’m a fucking delight,” Yuri says, solemnly, then breaks into a proud grin when Flynn throws his head back and laughs. “Come on. You really haven’t made any friends at vet school? None?”

“The first year of vet school is hard!”

“Wow. That’s just sad.”

“I’m hoping to join some student organizations or sports clubs next semester, when I’ve got my feet under me.”

“...You think you’d go back to fencing?”

Flynn chews on his lip. “...I don’t know. It might feel wrong, without you and Coach Niren and the rest of the team.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you...”

“Still miss him?”

“Yeah.”

Yuri wordlessly holds up his wrist. Flynn doesn’t need further elaboration on the worn-down bracelet. He remembers just as well as Yuri when Niren passed the leather cords out to the team on the bus to a tournament. Hisca and Chastel taught them all how to do the braiding so that the bracelet size was adjustable. Yuri’s didn’t turn out half bad, but Flynn’s is lumpy and misshapen. It doesn’t adjust as much as it’s supposed to.

“I’ve still got mine, too,” Flynn says. He fishes it out of his pocket. His keys are connected to it. “We can’t have accessories during labs and I wouldn’t want to get all that junk on it anyway, so...”

Yuri smiles crookedly. “Yours will last longer than mine, then.”

“Maybe.” It’s already in better shape than Yuri’s. “You’ve got Repede, though.”

“Repede isn’t just a reminder of Coach and Lambert,” Yuri says, defensively. Repede stirs at their feet at the mention of his name. Flynn reaches over to pat Yuri’s arm in placation.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...You ended up with any pets of your own yet?”

“My current apartment doesn’t allow it... my lease is up soon, though. I’m hoping to move somewhere that lets me have a dog.” It would be hard, taking care of a dog and keeping up with vet school, but maybe it would help him with his work-life balance.

“Ha. We could do play-dates with your dog and Repede.”

Flynn feels his eyes crinkle up with his grin. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

They just smile at each other for a second. It’s still a little awkward, not quite as smooth as their conversations used to be, but Flynn already feels lighter than he has in months. Yuri looks a hundred times better than he did when he showed up. He nibbles at his croissant instead of just poking at it, and he’s relinquished his death grip on the coffee cup. Flynn opens his mouth to say something disgustingly sentimental—

And a loud beep makes them both jump about a foot in the air. Flynn forces himself to relax while Yuri curses and scrambles for his phone. Repede lurches into motion below the table, hackles raised. “Shit, sorry, I set a timer—goddamn, have we really been talking that long? I’m supposed to pick Rita up—“

“Oh, no, are you late?”

“Not yet, that’s what the timer’s for. Hey, do you need a ride anywhere? I can drop you off—”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to delay you—“

“You’ll delay me more by being wishy-washy. Yes or no, Flynn?”

“Yes,” Flynn says, firmly. “If you could drop me off at the clinic, that would be great. Where are you parked? I’ll bus our table while you get the car warmed up.”

Yuri waves a hand vaguely to the east and sprints off with Repede before Flynn can ask him to elaborate. Flynn rolls his eyes, but he still can’t wipe the silly grin off his face. Classic Yuri. They haven’t solved any of their problems yet, not for real, but maybe... maybe this time around, they’ve got a shot at it.

#fluri #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #tales of vesperia #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In #long post #not art

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sazorak · 4 years

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Every Game I Played in 2019, Ranked

2019 sure was a year that happened where I happened to play some video games. Here’s the ones I played enough to form opinions, in a rough ranked order of preference.

It’s kind of weird that I’ve done this for five years now, but hey. I like to talk about things that I like / dislike. Hopefully you’ll empathize with my complaints, and give ones I enjoyed a try.

As a bonus, I also tweeted about the anime I watched and enjoyed this year.

2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018

Orm & Cheep: Narrow Squeaks – 1985 – ZX Spectrum – ★

How far would you go for a joke? For the sake of a joke, I spent an hour beating an incomprehensible, shitty ZX Spectrum Game about Orm & Cheep, an 80s British children show I only know about from a Trash Night video making fun of it.

Orm & Cheep: Birthday Party – 1985 – ZX Spectrum – ★

… and also this one, though Birthday Party is marginally better than Narrow Squeaks. Marginally. Extremely marginally. Congratulations to Orm & Cheap: Birthday Party.

16. River City Girls – 2019 – Switch – ★★★

The style of River City Girls is great. I like a lot of what it’s doing in terms of look and sound. It’s just that… well, River City Ransom’s gameplay was interesting something-like 30 years ago. Gameplay wise, this game hasn’t evolved that much from OG RC Ransom. The combat certainly feels better, but as far as it controls… I can’t tell if it’s not taking advantage of modern controllers and just sticking too close to the original’s control scheme, or if side-scrolling beat-em-ups are themselves just so staid and dated these days that there’s not much to be done. I just wasn’t having much fun, and the RC Ransom progression of new techniques and stat boosting didn’t exactly make me want to keep going.

It’s a real shame because in terms of pure aesthetics and concept, the game is amazing. I just don’t actually enjoy playing it. Oh well!

15. Baba is You – 2019 – Switch – ★★★

The core gameplay concept of Baba is You is fantastic. The way you manipulate nouns and verbs to construct phrases that operate as equations in a physical environment is super interesting. The early goings of the game were quite fun.

The problem I have with this game is that when you hit a wall in it, that wall can sometimes be impenetrable. I found that Baba is You is at times too subtle with its attempt to “teach” you tricks or onboard you into approaches to puzzles; it’s possible to come to solutions without taking away the lesson the designer intended, which can make later puzzles basically impossible.

The difficulty curve feels all over the place; I was extremely high on this game early on, but after getting completely blocked moving forward for hours on end, with the only real recourse being to either look stuff up or stare at past puzzles to try to figure out what apparently crucial lesson I missed despite coming to my own solutions, I ultimately decided to just do something else.

14. Cadence of Hyrule – 2019 – Switch – ★★★

Zelda has great music. Crypt of the Necrodancer has pretty good rhythm-game action. Combine them, and you get… well, it turns out you get a pretty OK procedurally generated Zelda-game with Necrodancer mechanics, I suppose. The appeal is easy to understand, though I’m personally not sure I care much for the final product.

I enjoyed the original Necrodancer well enough as a simple run-based, short-ish rhythm dungeon crawler. The brevity of each given “run” (stemming in part from my own inadequate skill, I suppose) worked well with the style of gameplay, in that it never really became much of a chore.

Meanwhile, I enjoy Zelda as an extended puzzle adventure game where there’s an innate unthinking flow to the actions. I’m not typically thinking much about the moment-to-moment about the actual mechanics of the action; the brain’s desires flow directly to the motion on the screen, as it were.

Combining the two results in a Necrodancer experience that’s way too long, and a Zelda experience that is way harder to control. Add the fact that the procedurally generated world isn’t that interesting and I’m just rather lukewarm on this. Meh!

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13. Super Robot Wars T – 2019 – PS4 – ★★★

It’s fantastic that Super Robot Wars is finally getting proper, high-quality localizations again. It felt like a dream to finally be able to play this franchise again after being forced to stop after the DS era. Playing through the rather roughly translated, and somewhat monotonous SRW OG: Moon Dwellers was good because the OG games tended to have the highest production values and narrative quality (missing out on 2nd OG may have also helped). SRW V was my first foray into the more recent non-OG games, and so shined as something rather fresh to me.

Two years on, and two Super Robot Wars releases later, it’s plain to see that Super Robot Wars’ current annual release cadence is not great. It results in incredibly repetitive, monotonous games that rely heavily on asset reuse— both between games, and even within the same game. Part of the problem is that the derivativeness doesn’t feel additive. It’s not like SRW T is SRW V + SRW X + New Stuff; it’s more that SRW T is a reskinned SRW V, with some heavy series-asset reuse to boot. I think it’d be a bit more tolerable if it felt like these games were building on each other, but every single one feels exactly as slight and mechanically weak.

Super Robot Wars’ combat have not been particularly good from a tactical sense for a long time now. The original OG games were probably the last time the combat was particularly interesting for me, as it presented an actual challenge and difficulty curve. Nowadays, they are entirely fanservice cakewalks, even on the hardest modes. Hell, they’ve apparently decided that increasing the difficulty of the game means you don’t get to chase the special challenge goals, which actually can paradoxically make portions of the hard-mode actually easier than the normal. Bizarre!

I guess the idea is “well, folks are playing this to see the bits, so if it’s hard they won’t!” Which… I disagree? If the gameplay is deeply unsatisfying, why wouldn’t I just watch the damn series? Crossover shenanigans don’t mean much whey you don’t do much with it. Fanservice talking heads ain’t enough!

The addition of Cowboy Bebop and the return of GaoGaiGar and Gunbuster should have had me onboard. The series list for this game is fantastic. But what they do with it is so flat that about 30 chapters in, I just… stopped. It wasn’t worth it. I’d plainly seen all that it had to offer. Easy, slow, and repetitive gameplay isn’t appealing to me, even if I do get to see Spike Spiegel doing sky donuts to take out a Zaku.

Additionally: stop putting Nadesico in these games. The units are boring, the plot is boring. Stop devoting so much time to it! It sucks!!

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12. Ape Out – 2019 – Switch – ★★★★

Ape Out is a game where you’re a big ol’ gorilla murdering guys with guns while dope ass percussive jazz drums play to the action. It’s cool, it’s short, it could honestly probably do with being somewhat shorter, but whatever. I enjoyed it.

BattleTech – 2018 – Steam – ★★★★

Despite being famously a “mecha guy”, BattleTech has never really been my thing. While I’m not opposed to mecha-as-tank-analog, it’s not my primary focus in the genre; I like my robots to be fast, really. I like mecha getting into melee and fucking shit up. Mecha for me is a power fantasy. That’s not really BattleTech / MechWarrior’s thing. That all being said, I quite enjoyed my time with BattleTech, the PC-game rendition of the tabletop thing. It’s a neat turn-based tactical robot combat RPG with an interesting overarching campaign structure… to a point.

The first issue I had is pacing. While the game is turn-based, the combat and movement plays out in real-time. And given how lumbering these robots are, this means that a single mission can take aaaages. Think 45 minutes to an hour for a single mission. It took me about 20-30 hours to get to the campaign��s halfway point, which is when the game really started to sour on me.

The second issue is one of variance. Let me run you through the fundamental loop of the game. You are a mercenary captain that has a ship of mechs and mech pilots, and you fly around from planet to planet taking on jobs. You need money to pay for your ship to keep going, as well as to pay your pilots. It’s expensive to outfit your mechs, and severe damage to them can both REALLY eat into your budget and also take weeks in-game to repair. Missions are rated based on difficulty, and you are expected generally to field a greater “tonnage” of mechs in excess to that difficulty. This all plays out pretty well.

The game starts with you possessing mostly lighter mechs, and as you progress, you’re presented more and more missions in the campaign that require increasingly beefier mechs with more armor and more guns. Whereas in the tabletop game there’s presumably a kind of “point” system by which players are given a limited amount of tonnage that they can field on any given mission (for purposes of balance), there’s no such limit in the game; as such, you’re encouraged to field the four-ish beefiest robots you have, as they’re the most likely to kill everything fast while coming out with the least damage.

How do you get these beefy mechs? Well, you don’t buy them; instead, you’re aiming to kill opposing pilots and leave their robots as much intact as possible so that you can salvage or steal them. It’s kind of amusing; your entire gameplan after a point becomes “how the fuck do I shake this robot around a bunch such that its pilot dies???” It makes sense in practice, but if you think about it for even a second it comes across rather silly. Given you need good mechs to progress, you don’t have much other choice other than just running tonnnsss of missions and hoping you eventually get enough mech fragments to reconstruct some of your own. But beefy-ness isn’t the whole story, as some of the robots you can get just plain suck, regardless of their tonnage. You’re basically rolling dice again and again hoping a robot worthy of stealing shows up so you can kill its friends, and try to kill its pilot as gently as possible. You go through this cycle four times, across the four different weight-classes, until you’ve got what you need in terms of a team of class-appropriate mechs.

The fundamental lack of variety in what you field combines with every single mission really being “how do I kneecap everyone” instead of the given mission objective to make the game quite samey. Mission types don’t vary much, and the environments don’t constrain you all that much, either; the only ones that are particularly interesting are moons and Mars-like planets where your mechs’ ability to regulate their heat become much more constrained, which can necessitate loadout changes.

I enjoyed the story enough for what it was, but honestly? After 30 hours, I was pretty much good. I had a good time with BattleTech, but I’d had my fill.

Mortal Kombat X – 2015 – Steam – ★★★★

In my ongoing adventure of playing the Mortal Kombat games for their goofy plot / story modes and nothing else, I played Mortal Kombat X. I’m not sure there’s much to talk about these other than “Hey I enjoy their dumb ongoing narrative; I wonder where they’ll go from here!”

11. Mortal Kombat XI – 2019 – Steam – ★★★★

Ditto. The plot for these games are getting sillier and sillier, and the ending of XI may be the most ridiculous yet. In a good way.

10. Devil May Cry V – 2019 – Steam – ★★★★

Character action games are heavily predicated on the question of “How do we spice the game up over time so that it stays interesting… without overwhelming the player?” Devil May Cry V’s answer is “well, we’ll slowly give them more characters with their own expanding skill sets, that’ll be neat!”

It is neat, but I’m not sure it was actually a good idea. The three protagonists all have extremely different move sets, meaning that the forced switches between them on a chapter-to-chapter basis results in you never really mastering any one of them. Each character has a ton of depth, but… take, for example, Nero, the “main” protagonist. He has a sub-mechanic involved with revving his motorcycle sword to boost damage. I never actually figured out how to get to work. Never really had to, because he had so many other mechanics that were also effective, and I never had much time with him alone to dial in the weird motorcycle thing.

DMCV also does probably my least favorite gameplay gimmick of “introduce new mechanics in a boss battle!” Like great, you gave me a whole new move set here, and are now going to rate me on my performance when you’ve never given me a chance to learn these skills? Oh wait, you’re giving me new mechanics in the final boss battle!?! Fuck off. That sucks!

Also, I think I’m an outlier, but I actually preferred playing as V, the control-three-characters-at-once-while-reading-a-book guy. Just felt like I dialed his move set in easier. Weird.

9. Untitled Goose Game – 2019 – Switch – ★★★★

I’m not going to pretend that this is a deep game, or an enduring game, or even necessarily a great game. But I had a lot of fun with it, I have a lot of good memories thinking about it, and I am glad that so many people out there are now wrestling with the fact that birds can be both terrible and also good. Untitled Goose Game carries a powerful message about avian kind. You would do well to learn from it.

8. Super Mario Maker 2 – 2019 – Switch – ★★★★

Mario Maker 2 is such an incremental upgrade to Mario Maker that it hardly feels like it earns that “2”. That being said: Mario Maker 1 is pretty darn good so it’s not like that’s all that bad. The additional mechanics and story mode are good, granted, but like… I had been wanting more than just Mario Maker 1.5.

As is, it was pretty easy to get bored with Mario Maker pretty quickly, given it was mostly a game I’d already played quite a bit before. The addition of the campaign held my interest for a fair amount of time, but I’m not exactly coming back to this all that often. Hopefully the content updates they seem to be rolling into it keep up.

7. Kind Worlds: Lo-Fi Beats to Write To – 2019 – Steam – ★★★★

This is less a video game and more a sort of vague pen-pal application masquerading as a game, but man… the existence of this thing is neat. It’s just a program where folks write letters about their problems, and people send them stuff back. That’s it. It’s kind of a sweet thing to just exist.

I’m not a person with what would one term especially Heavy Problems, but just going through other folks letters and giving them an encouraging word is itself nice.

6. The Outer Worlds – 2019 – Epic Game Store – ★★★★

Having been deeply disappointed with the quality of Fallout 4, I was very happy to see Obsidian come back to do their own Fallout-a-like. The Outer Worlds isn’t perfect; I wish it had a bit more of a bite, the gunplay was… fine, the environment design was kind of dull, and the gameplay loop did not outlast the length of the game itself. But I had a fun enough time with it.

That said, I think the dearth of me having much to say here sort of speaks to how… rather unambitious the writing and design ended up being. There’s not a ton to say about it. It’s more responsive than a Fallout 4, to be sure, but even that caps out at a point. It doesn’t necessarily offer much in the way of RPG-style different “paths” to develop your character in terms of who they are or how they behave, beyond the sort-of four-way axis of “grouch to nice” and “corporatist to socialist.” The skill tree ends up being pretty flat, and you can basically become a master of everything by the end.

Shruggo.

5. Pokémon Sword – 2019 – Switch – ★★★★

Pokémon Sword/Shield is a bizarre thing— its design is constantly fighting against itself. There are tons of ease-of-use improvements– but it somehow has some of the worst online in the series. It gives you dozens of complex, half-explained systems— but also feels the need to hold your hand lest you get lost in its incredibly linear, dull story. It adds challenging Pokémon raid battles that you largely need to team up with other players to beat— but also has one of the most trivial progressions in the series. It has a huge and varied open “Wild Area” where you can catch hundreds of Pokémon before ever facing the first gym— but that wild area largely exists as a world unto its own separate from the traditional Pokémon “routes”. It doesn’t want to have a plot up until the very end when it decides that gee, I guess we have to, even if it makes no sense.

Let’s go into these in more detail.

Sword/Shield introduces a ton of gameplay improvements. Auto-saving, while problematic in places, is super useful. The ability to move Pokémon directly from the box to your party is great, and removes a lot of process headaches. Single hand controls are a godsend for both improved accessibility and general ease of use. Items are way easier to get, Pokemon are easier to raise, and this is probably the easiest game in the entire series to breed and raise “high tier” Pokemon for online battling.

On the other hand: despite your friend list being loaded into the game, you are forced to use a bizarre password system and request system that is super confusing and prone to issues. You cannot directly trade or battle or play with friends except through this, which occasionally results in headaches anytime someone uses the same four-digit password as you and your bud. The Max Raid battle system is super poorly explained in-game in terms of how you find and join others raids— I only divined it by a tweet someone made. They did away with the “GTS” trading system they had used for the past decade that allowed global Pokemon bartering, presumably in favor of encouraging more natural trades— but didn’t give any way to actually communicate with people in game what you want to trade for. It encourages more in-person interaction, but that’s once again playing into Game Freak’s obsession with the Japanese mode of gaming.

Sword/Shield perhaps has the most sheer amount of systems in any one of these games. It’s not necessarily all good, but in terms of “wow, you’re not babying us huh” it is at least interesting. There’s Pokemon that evolve based on absurd, never-explained conditions like “number of crits in a single battle”, “pass underneath this specific rock when they’re at low health”, “spin baby spin.” The wild area has tons of mechanical stuff that they let you explore without forcing your hand much, and they let you explore it freely without really railroading you. There’s a separate wild-area specific currency system based on raids / dens that you just stumble upon unprompted, really.

On the other hand, the core story progression of the game though… is perhaps the most infuriatingly patronizing thing I’ve experienced. Cutscenes happen every 15 seconds, often-times forcing your movement, and are almost of zero consequence beyond someone going HEY YOU SHOULD GO THAT WAY. The game is completely unwilling to let you get lost when going through the story. It’s constant, it’s unrelenting, it’s maddening. It literally made me mad.

Pokémon Raid battles are super interesting. The battles themselves aren’t necessarily hard, but the kinds of things they present— in terms of providing access to unique Pokémon, rare items, and the fact that they’re not as “rinse-and-repeat” as normal battles— gives the system and game increased longevity. It’s a pretty deep system, with meaningful rewards. A five-star battle is time consuming and you run the risk of failing, but if you pull it off you can get items like TRs, EXP candies, even bottle caps (super useful items that let you increase the baseline stat “DNA” of your Pokémon), and the captured Pokémon can have unique moves you’d normally have to breed and possess extremely high baseline stats. You can even get hidden secret abilities! Nice!

On the other hand: the core game progression is so piss easy and straight forward. The game’s leveling curve is all out of whack, in part because their introduction of a forced “always on” EXP share. In older games, you’d only get EXP from actively battling and beating a Pokemon in a fight, or having participated in a fight. Now, your whole team gets EXP just from being around, and you also get EXP from catching Pokemon, making curry, and all sorts of other small activities. All of this is fine or even good in the abstract as it makes raising stuff easier, but the game isn’t well balanced around it. Encounters don’t scale, which can result in you steamrolling the game if you engage with any of the game’s other systems prior to beating the game. I had to compensate by stretching my normal party of six into a party of 10, constantly swapping members out to keep the average level across the party down. Additionally, the only non-PVP reason to train and breed pokes, the Battle Tower, is so trivially easy this time that… why bother??

The wild area system is brilliant. A big criticism I’ve had with this series in the past is that the kinds of Pokemon any given player is bound to encounter and capture tend to be pretty similar. The limited amount of Pokemon that tend to be put on a traditional Pokemon route, and the limited means you have to encounter them (“hey I walk through the grass, we’ll see what pops up”) doesn’t trend towards players ending up with very different party compositions, just because there’s not a ton of options at any given point. The wild area completely tosses that out the window. As an open space, the types of things someone encounters will vary wildly— and it’s further varied by player-specific weather conditions that dynamically change the encounter tables. It completely opens up the kinds of Pokemon one can encounter early on, presenting hundreds of appropriately leveled options for players. It’s brilliant. The intermixing of both grass-only, overworld-visible, and raid-specific Pokemon also increases the range of encounters. It’s the accomplishment of the core Pokemon concept of “explore and find everything.” Finally.

On the other hand: the wild area is actually kind of boring to explore, visually speaking. It’s basically the Ocarina of Time field with sporadic patches of grass. There’s little actually diversity or mechanics to its exploration, especially when compared to the fact that… the game still has normal routes. They still behave as they always have, except that by the total remove of “Hidden Machine” mobility moves, the ability to explore geographically has been severely hampered. There’s no “gee, I can’t get there yet, guess I’ll have to come back later” except for a single mobility mechanic (the ability to go over the water, introduced very late in the game). It makes revisiting past areas mostly a box-checking exercise, and in general feels like an odd juxtaposition. They either should went all-in on the wild area or better merged the concepts together, because as is it feels… weird. Especially because the wild area could have done with being bigger and more diverse looking.

The game spends most of its time having no story at all, which is kind of boring. Juxtaposed with the railroading stuff where there’s still constant cutscenes with their mostly mediocre characters who don’t do all that much, it almost comes across as padding than anything. There are good characters (Piers and Marnie are the best, the gym leaders in general are good) but man do they try too hard to put Leon over.

But then at the end they introduce the story super quickly and it’s very dumb in a way that made me laugh out loud so congrats I guess.

All in all, I rather liked Sword/Shield. It’s no Sun/Moon— which innovated in tons of places and had an extremely charming story, cast, and progression— but the places that it innovates, and the ease-of-use improvements that they’ve put in the game, are great improvements to the baseline formula. While it’s caused a ton of drama online, the Pokédex and Pokémon Bank stuff are not huge impacts on my personal enjoyment of the game. It kind of stinks a bit, but the overall package is still quite good and fun.

The Legend of the Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Master Mode – 2017 – Switch – ★★★★★

Breath of the Wild was my favorite game the year it was released. The harder Master Mode is something that had interested me as something to check out for a replay, but I decided to wait until the shadow of my previous playthrough loomed somewhat less. Breath of the Wild is, after all, both a monumental game and also a monumentally large game. Going back to it for Master Mode would mean (by way of my own obsessive brain) 100%ing it all over again, which is extremely time consuming, even if I don’t go after the all the Koroks.

There was also this sort of reticence in my behind to confront the creeping suspicion I’ve had in my mind that some of the DLC additions have made the core game worse. Which, I would say… is probably somewhat the case. Certain DLC gear items extremely imbalance standard play and really fuck with the exploration of the game (specifically, Majora’s Mask basically making you not have to fight multiple enemy types). Still, I knew I could ignore those, and just focus down on the core experience of Master Mode: harder enemies, regenerating enemy health, and the introduction of floating platforms.

Turns out, BOTW is still fucking amazing, and while the additions Master Mode make aren’t essential, they do make for a fun second run of a fantastic game. The harder enemies make the early parts of that game WAY HARDER (making you really have to get good at using your bombs and stealth), and while that difficulty ramp doesn’t keep up throughout (which, honestly, the platforms are somewhat to blame as they make getting certain bits of higher-level loot earlier easier), it’s still just a great game to go back to.

Breath of the Wild remains my all-time favorite game. Hyped for BOTW2.

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4. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice – 2019 – Steam – ★★★★★

Sekiro is in a sense the purest expression of the Souls formula. Stripped away of the jolly co-op, the PVP, the stats, the equipment, and most customization to speak of, Sekiro asks the simple question: can you do this? Can you learn all the systems in this quite challenging game, and engage with it on its own terms?

In its mechanical simplicity, I found Sekiro to be my favorite game of that lineage, as it has allowed them to really polish the gameplay by its singular focus. It just feels amazing to stealth around and backstab dudes, parry everything, and triumph in nail-biting sword duels. While you do gain new skills and equipment (in the form of the ninja tools), they are just supplementing the fundamental systems of the game, rather than acting as diverging ones. So really, most of your time is spent not learning wholly new methods of combat, but instead improving your mastery of the core one.

And the feel of mastering that combat is incredible. By the end you feel unstoppable; normal enemies that would have been challenges early on are nothing. Even a lot of the bosses become trivial as-time goes on, bar the few ‘mastery test’ bosses interleaved throughout the progression. This isn’t some “hey I got more EXP and now over-level for everything!” thing, either; this is me, the human holding the controller getting skilled enough to become a Sekiro master. It’s an amazing feeling.

I beat every single boss in the game, including the hidden ones, and enjoyed the hell out of it.

3. Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night – 2019 – Steam – ★★★★★

I’m very much on the record as being a huge IGAvania partisan. I fuckin’ love the core loop of that permutation of the Metroidvania formula. Koji Igarashi no longer being able to make Castlevanias hurt me. A lot. Over a decade of time spanned between the last IGAvania game, Order of Ecclesia, and the release of Bloodstained. I was a bit worried.

Thank god Bloodstained is really, really, really good.

Bloodstained is extremely “one of those.” You move about a 2D interconnected world, collect items and abilities until you find the stuff that let you move forward in a new area. It’s kind of an eclectic hybrid of IGA’s past titles. The castle design feels very Aria of Sorrow. The shard mechanics feel close to Aria/Dawn of Sorrow’s soul system. The weapons feel very Symphony of the Night meets Portrait of Ruin. The overall mechanics of movement feel most akin to Order of Ecclesia. All in all: a good mix.

The game is massive. There’s so many weird one-off mechanics (something I appreciate), bizarre callbacks, goofs. There’s an in-depth alchemy system (mostly used for cooking, which is funny). The shard system is a bit boring in places— some shards are extremely simple and forgettable mechanically— but the shard leveling system is kind of hilarious in how broken it can become. The familiar system from SOTN is back and has been essentially perfected by making it a dedicated slot so you can just hang with a fairy or sword pal.

I wish the game had more enemy diversity, and the story left something to be desired. Many shards just aren’t very interesting. But the game is just so dang fun. The core gameplay loop is just so compelling, and the game just feels so dang good. I’m glad they took all the time to polish the gameplay feel because hooooooooooo boy.

Looking forward to those DLC characters for some additional playthroughs.

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2. Outer Wilds – 2019 – Epic Game Store – ★★★★★

“Space exploration”, “cosmology”, “archeology”, and “sociology.” While these are certainly not the only fields that dominate much of my attention, they are some big ones. The Outer Wilds is a space exploration game where you explore the structure of a strange but exquisitely constructed solar system, and dig through the remains of a mysterious vanished alien species. Also, you’re stuck in a Majora’s Mask-like apocalyptic time loop ‘cuz the sun keeps exploding. Should probably find out why that’s happening.

I went into this game completely blind, entirely based on the way Austin Walker was raving about it on twitter. Austin’s interests in heady space shit is pretty similar to my own, and turns out? Worked out quite well for me. I blindly explored this solar system for about twenty hours over the course of a couple weeks, and came away from the experience misty eyed at the ending. Outer Wilds is fantastic.

It’s a surprisingly touching and cozy for a game that mostly about you going off into space on your own, all alone. And that’s because you’re not, really. Outer Wilds is less about the science of exploration and archeology and the meaning of it, why it matters even in the darkest moments. Why do we explore? Why does science matter, divorced from the parasite of industry and markets? What value does it give to us, to future generations?

The game is built on the notion that even as we individually wander, explore, and discover, we’re all together collectively building on something that may outlive us, even outlive our species, the pursuit of a collective knowledge that transcends personal enrichment and individual accomplishments.

You are but one a few alien explorers, each on their own adventure. As you adventure, you catch their signals as you cruise across space. The things you learn and do are further built on the relics and messages left behind by the Nomai, the species that came before. This sense of a personal and emotional connection in the act of discovery is the heart of this game. We’re not standing on the shoulders of giants; we’re holding hands with those before us and those after us to build a bridge to a future that we may not live to see.

It’s a positive message of hope in the face of oblivion.

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1. Fire Emblem: Three Houses – 2019 – Switch – ★★★★★

I’ve been really on-and-off on Fire Emblem over the years. I first got in on the franchise with Awakening, which I rather liked for its anime-ass sensibilities— though not without criticism. I found the combat kind of obnoxious in its tendency to get muddied down in the Oops You Done Fucked Up, Time To Reset junk. It was too anime-ass in some places, not the least of which being its incredibly one-note characters who had little bearing on ongoing events so as to support the permadeath system without too much wasted effort on the developers’ part. Fates, the follow-up on Awakening, only amped up these criticisms, becoming convoluted, stupid, and kind of obnoxious to play.

I had hopes that Three Houses would be an improvement. Initial impressions made it seem way more serious, way more grounded, with a lot of improved systems. Turns out: it was better than I could have dared of expected or hoped. Three Houses isn’t improvement, or even innovation; it’s a revolution.

Three Houses is great. It’s long, it’s got so many different systems going on that I hardly know where to begin with describing it, but… it’s great. It’s the platonic ideal of what I’d like out of a Fire Emblem. Things feel like they matter. The setting feels weighty, the plot is actually good, and the characters are absolutely marvelous.

No, it’s not perfect— its handling of representation could DEFINITELY be better. Some of the narrative is hokey as hell in places. Certain routes seem to have gotten more attention than others. The class-based specialization systems could do with more depth such that so many characters don’t end up mostly identically specialized to each other.

But… I found the combat extremely enjoyable. The charge-based rewind mechanic removed the feel-bad gotchas of unanticipated troop appearances and bad rolls etc. The characters are fun, and they’re kept relevant all the whole way through via creative framing of events. The ability to roam an actual physical space via the monastery made the world feel more alive, and made everything feel more real.

The writing was actually interesting and nuanced, exploring things like faith, race, social classes, feudal politics, and romance. While the three routes are largely similar, it’s interesting just how different the underlying messages of each of them ends up being. I appreciate that in this game where you otherwise spend most of your time hanging around with nobles in a church ends just short of you rolling out the guillotines by the end.

This is a tactical RPG in 2019 that I have put something like 150+ hours into, having beaten only two of the four routes. I was, and still am, deeply invested in everything that is. I’ll probably go back to the other two routes when the final DLC is out next year.

SAKURAI, PUT EDELGARD IN SMASH

#GAME OF THE YEAR #2019 #GOTY #nonfiction #thinkpiece #fire emblem: three houses #outer wilds #bloodstained #sekiro #pokemon sword/shield

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of2worldsxmuses · 5 years

Text

Stranded (riot) // Ez & Eli

Eli was sitting in his office working, as he was watching the trial. He couldn't believe this was coming to an end, but he was definitely glad it was. The truth was going to come out one way or the other. He was shocked by the verdict when it came in, "Wow, I didn't see that coming. Oh man..." He shook his head, and picked up the phone to call the crew camped out at the courthouse, but before he could get anyone, he heard a large crash. "What the hell?" He jumped up and looked out the window and saw a large crowd of angry people, "Fuck....Ezra! We need to get safety!"

Despite it being a Saturday, Ezra was at Paradox, getting some work done. With Oz Montague’s trial drawing its conclusion, work seemed never ending for both him and Eli. His gaze was glued on his computer screen when he heard a commotion. Wondering what was happening, he exited his office only to be greeted by the employees running about. He entered his brother’s office then, brows knitted together. “What the fuck is going on?” He asked, his eyes growing wide when he saw what was happening outside. “Are they seriously fucking rioting?”

Eli went to make sure that all their employees were safe, "Everyone head to the middle studio and lock yourselves inside." He looked at Ezra, "Yeah it looks that way, and we need to secure the building." As the bosses, they were responsible for everyone in that building, "This is crazy I know, but we need to not panic and make sure we are all safe in here."

The first thing that came to mind was Val. Ezra wondered about her safety and felt his stomach dropping just thinking about his girlfriend getting hurt. He had to force those thoughts aside and focus on what was going on at the office. “You heard, Eli. Go!” He urged the employees to head to the middle studio. “We’ll be okay. They can’t get in.--Now come on, Eli, we should follow the rest.” He said once everyone had herded out.

Eli was glad that they had a place that was secure for their employees to bunker down in. "We have to make sure that the studio is locked down. You go with the rest, keep them safe, and I'll go lock the front door, then join you all." He didn't want to risk anyone getting in and hurting anyone. They could buy new equipment, but lives were irreplaceable.

Ezra shook his head at his brother. “No, if you’re going, I’m going too.” He said in return. As much as his brother grated his nerves, he never wanted something bad to happen to him. So if was hellbent on locking the door, Ezra was going to go with him. “Come on.” They headed to the door and locked it. Thankfully, it hadn’t been tempered with yet. “Now, we can hide now?”

Eli was surprised by Ezra wanting to go with him, but he was also grateful for it. He took everything very seriously, and the safety of his staff was at the top of his list. When they got to the front, they locked the door, "Yeah we can, I feel a lot better now, let's go." Just when they were going to leave a brick flew through the window, "To my office, now!" They ran to his office, "Barricade the door with the desk!"

Just when he thought everything would be okay, someone threw a brick through the window. “What the fuck! Let’s go, Eli!” Ezra urged, and with that, they both ran towards his brother’s office. He listened to his brother’s instructions and helped to barricade the door with the desk. “That should hold, right?” He asked, looking at the door, hoping like hell the mob of people wouldn’t break through.

Eli couldn't believe this was happening right now, all this over a verdict. Once he and Ezra were safe in his office he got on the floor by the desk to use his body to help just in case someone did try to get in, "Yeah this will hold, but hopefully that brick was all the damage we get tonight." He let his head fall back, and he blew out a frustrated sigh, "I really can't believe this is happening right now, it's insane how one thing turns into this. But the good thing is, everyone here is safe. But I need to call Daniella and find out how's she's doing." He pulled out his cellphone and tried to call, but got nothing, "Crap! The phones are down"

Ezra could only hope that nothing more would happen around here. The whole situation was wigging him out, not to mention he was worried about Val as well. "How the hell did all this happen all of a sudden?" He grumbled, grabbing his phone to give Val a call, but he didn't even get to dial her number before he heard what Eli said. "What? Now, the phones are down too…" Being stubborn, he found himself dialing her number anyway, but of course the line was dead. "Fuck! Great! Just fucking great!"

Eli felt helpless and he was scared out of his mind for Daniella, Emery, Bella, and Charlie, but he saw Ezra was starting to freak out, "It's going to be alright, Ezra, try to calm down, I'm sure Valeria is alright, and the phones will come back soon enough." He wanted to believe that everything was okay, but in his heart he was scared out of his mind. He touched Ezra's shoulder, "Just think positive thoughts."

“It’s not going to be alright!” Ezra growled at his brother, despite knowing that he was only trying to help. He knew then he had to take a calming breath and once he did, he spoke again. “I’m sorry…” He said in a tired tone. “I worry about her. She’s supposed to be at work. What if something happens to her? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” He felt tears pricked his eyes as the negative thoughts bombarded his mind.

Eli knew that Ezra was just scared, so he was not going to take his snapping at him personal. He was scared too, but he didn't want to show that to Ezra. He wanted to finally be the big brother Ezra needed. When he apologized, Eli pulled him into a hug, "It's going to be okay Ez, Valeria will be okay, I promise you. She is strong, and definitely savvy, so she will be able to get out of a sticky situation. Just have faith, I'm here for you, I promise. I won't ever leave you again." He never saw his brother this panicked before, he must really care about Valeria a lot.

Ezra had never felt more vulnerable. He was normally so confident, nothing could shake him, and yet he was at the verge of tears at the thought of something happening to Val. It didn't help when Eli hugged him. "What if she's not? What do I do then?" He returned after a minute of silence. Not knowing what else to say, he wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him back tightly. Right now, he really needed the support and he wasn't going to push away his one source of comfort.

"You will get through this, and you will be strong for her. If...God forbid, something does happen to her, you know that you will have a strong support system to help you through this." Eli knew that him and Emery would be there for Ezra for whatever he would need from them. Feeling Ezra hug him back, was a great feeling, and he was glad that he could be there for him, unlike how he was in the past.

Feeling the support from Eli, Ezra finally allowed the tears he was holding back to fall. He needed this. A shoulder to cry on. A supportive brother that he thought he would never have. "Nothing can happen to her. I love her." The revelation came out easily. It didn't make him flinch nor did it surprise him. If anyone understood love, it would be Eli. The man did go through a lot when it came to relationships.

This was a new feeling for Eli to have with Ezra, and he liked it. He wasn't always the supportive brother to him or Emery, due to his own selfishness. But now that they are back together, and the growth that he's had through the years, he wants that relationship with his siblings. He could feel the emotion coming from Ezra, "I can tell you really mean that, and I know this is hard, but you have to have faith that she is going to be alright, and you can tell her how you feel face to face."

Ezra nodded his head as his tears poured. He'd never felt like this about a woman. Val was the very first and he always knew that if he were to ever fall in love, strong emotions would be forced out of him. He felt a little better that through this unfortunate tragedy, he was able to have this moment with his brother. After a while, he pulled back and smiled sheepishly at Eli. "Sorry about that.--You know, you're not so awful when you're being being supportive."

If Eli knew about anything, it was falling in love. Those emotions are strong, and you do some things you never thought you would do when you're in love, so seeing this from Ezra was nice change. He chuckled hearing his brother's comment, "Thanks....and I'm sorry that it took me so long to be the brother you deserve. I was so selfish, and I didn't think of how my actions affected you and Emery."

Ezra shrugged his shoulders, trying to act like things were cool when actually it was nice hearing Eli apologize. He never did that before. "It's okay. Em and I became pretty decent people though, I think. I'm glad you're not the Eli that left Verona all those years ago. It's actually nice to see you smiling a lot more now. Daniella must have really made you happy." He commented with a genuine smile.

"Yeah you both did, and I am so happy to be back here in Verona to see it." Eli said with a smile on his face, but he knew in his heart, he had nothing to do with who they are now. "I don't ever want to be that Eli again, he was not a good guy, and had major internal things going on inside him. But I can honestly say that I know what it truly means to be happy, and I am better for it." He smiled when he brought up Daniella, "Yeah she has, but being with my family has made me happy too."

Ezra nodded, smiling at his brother. It was no surprise that he and Eli were at odds about...well almost everything. Especially when Eli left and Ezra was forced to pick up the pieces. They never talked about it, but he figured that this might be the best time to bury the hatchet. "I'm glad you're back too. I never did like the old Eli. He was an asshole. This version is a lot more likable and it's good that you're happy." He smiled, the words couldn't be more genuine. “Well, if that’s the case. Welcome back, big brother. You’ve been missed.” And he really meant that.

Eli had to laugh hearing Ezra call the old him an asshole, and he couldn't deny it. He was selfish, and only concerned about what he could get from people. But now, he was nothing like that, and he wanted to stay that way. "I know, and I never actually apologized for leaving you like I did, I know you had to pick up my slack around here, and you did an amazing job. Now I want to give you the opportunity to do what you want to do, and not worry about things, I will pick up the slack now." He smiled when he welcomed him back, "Thank you little brother, it's good to be back."

Ezra laughed along with Eli, it felt nice to hear his brother laughing. Before this, the man was always angry about something, but clearly he was a totally different man now. This was what Ezra had wanted all along, a brother he could love and talk to. He couldn’t be more glad to have him. “I appreciate the apology, and I might have resented you back then, but now, I’m actually grateful for the experience. It made me a man and that’s not too bad in my book.” He joked, bumping his brother with his shoulder. “You’re very welcome. Just please don’t go back to the asshole you. I might just have to push you off a building or something.” He laughed.

For the first time in a long time, Eli felt like he was really getting along with Ezra, and it was not on a superficial level, but he was actually getting his brother back. They had been through so much before, and now they were able to look beyond all the drama, and foolishness, and focus on them now. "I can promise that Eli is never coming back. He is dead and buried, the man before you now, is the man that is going to be here for you and Emery, no matter what." He smiled, "You have become a fine man, and I know that you are going to make Valeria very happy." He bumped his shoulder back, "I will say this now, if the asshole Eli comes back, I give you permission to push me off a building." He laughed, and couldn't believe how fa they have come.

“Good. Good riddance to that asshole then. Emery and I need this version of Eli, not an asshole.” Ezra might be laughing, but he couldn’t be more serious. He hated his brother back then and never understood why anyone would even want to be around him. But this new version, he could definitely live with and wanted to be around. “I hope so too. I just want to be with her and love her. She’s been through so much in her life, it’s fair that I make her happy for the rest of it, you know… I hope she’s okay.” He could feel panic setting in again, but for some reason being around Eli helped him a lot. “Oh, I don’t need permission to do that. I’ll just bring you on top of this building and push you off no questions asked.” He laughed.

Eli wanted to be the type of brother that Emery and Ezra could come too and rely on fro anything, He wanted him to feel like he had a real brother, not some asshole that he never wanted to be around. He listened as Ezra talked about Valeria, and although they hadn't been around each other a lot, he knew his brother, and he was a man in love. He could feel just how much he cared about her, and see it in his eyes, that he found his one. "She has gone through a lot, and she deserves your love, and you deserve hers." He patted his shoulder and laughed, "I will not even fight you on it."

Ezra never thought that he could love a woman, he didn’t even think that Val and him could ever become a reality, and yet it did happen, and now that he had her, he never wanted to let her go. His regret was not telling her that he was in love with her sooner. “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like I do, but I will try my best to love her the way she should be loved.” That was a promise that was easy for him to make because he had never felt more sincere. “Great. Then you better not mess up again.” He laughed. Just then, he heard banging coming from outside the door. “Do you hear that? I think there are people trying to get in. Should we open the doors for them?” He didn’t want innocent people to get injured or worse, killed by the angry mob, so he knew that the right thing to do was to help as many people as they could. “Come on, Eli. Let’s open the doors and try to help.” He stood up then, and offered a hand to his brother to help him up.

"You have to get past that feeling, because you are a good man Ezra Sutherland, and any woman would be happy to have you love them. And that is all you can do is give her the best of you, and she will love you for that. " Eli knew what a good man Ezra was, and he was sure that Valeria knew it too, that's why she was still hanging around with him. They look happy together, so he was hoping for the best with them. He only laughed, and was about to respond when he heard the banging on the door, "You think we should open it?" He didn't want to see people get hurt, but he was also thinking about the people already in there. He needed to make a quick decision, "You know what, yeah, let's open the doors." They moved the desk, and went to open the doors to let the people in that were fleeing the riots, "Follow us, we will lead you to safety." He and Ezra took them to the middle studio with the rest of their employees to ride out the riots in safety.

#Canon: Ez & Eli

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sonicrevival · 5 years

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Ultimatum- Chapter 3 of 5: Headspace

Sorry I missed the update yesterday, was busy with something else.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500557/chapters/44004130

Sonic: Revival- Ultimatum Chapter 3 of 5: Headspace With Eggman gone and Mecha Sally paralysed, Sonic’s small team were left alone on the ice with Silver and Emerl, waiting for Nicole’s return. None of them said anything, the five content to let the faint howl of the wind go undisturbed as they took in their victory. Mecha Sally was safely in their care, and Nicole was already undoing Eggman’s work, while the mad doctor himself had lost his latest machine and been forced to retreat. He hadn’t made it far, thanks to Emerl, and it would be a while before he recovered from the setback they had dealt him. As far as Sonic really cared, this could be filed under ‘Mission Accomplished.’ “So, Tails. I think you and Nicole have got a bit of explaining to do,” The blue hedgehog finally spoke up, glancing at Emerl. Tails nodded, looking over at the robot for a second, and cleared his throat. “Well, Nicole isn’t here right now, so I’ll do it,” He said. “Uhm, what did Nicole say your name was?” “Emerl.” “Right, well, Emerl here is a Gizoid. They’re a sort of extremely powerful warrior robot. Paradoxically highly advanced and very old, ancient, even,” Tails began. “Hey, I’m not old!” She protested. “Your body is approximately three thousand years old,” The fox replied. “You’ve been asleep for most of it.” “If her body is that old, why is Nicole compatible with it?” Amy asked. “Well, that’s partially due to the modifications we made while we were working on the body when we found it, and partially because we believe that the technology that was used to make Nicole was reverse-engineered from the same technology that made Emerl, that of the Fourth Great Civilisation. She’s something of a bridge between us and them.” “What were they like?” “We don’t know. We only know they existed at all from a few scraps and fragments, and the occasional account from another contemporary civilisation. We only know their language because archaeologists found a stone that happened to serve as a translation between Nocturnian and Ancient Echidna, which we know significantly more of.” “Huh, interesting,” Sonic said. “So, what about more details regarding our new friend here?” “We found her while you were in space, and she became something of a group project. Everyone played their part… until Fiona joined the team,” Tails continued. “Ugh, her.” Amy groaned. Tails gave her a look for a moment, then resumed speaking. “Well, Fiona actually knew what it was that we had found, and explained that the Gizoid was actually incredibly dangerous. Reportedly, a single Gizoid had gone berserk and practically wiped out the Nocturnus themselves, at least managing to cripple them enough that their empire collapsed.” “Wait, one of me did all that? By itself?” Emerl asked. “I didn’t think we were that strong...” “I’m still somewhat dubious as to whether I trust the story,” Tails admitted. “Still, we tried to find a way to ensure activation would be safe, but there were no guarantees. Ultimately, we decided that the risk was too great to activate the Gizoid, and gave the access codes to the lab to two people: Sally and Nicole. It was only be to used in the most dire situation, one where adding a berserk city-destroying robot to the mix wouldn’t make it worse than it already was. Nicole decided that this was the right time, apparently, and I think she made the right choice.” “I’ll say,” Sonic nodded, looking over at the wreckage of the Egg Beater. “You’re pretty strong, Emerl, if you were able to do that.” “Well, I’m no more powerful than anyone else here,” She shrugged. “I’m just not tired, and having a metal body lets me go all-out for longer and hit harder. My damage output is exactly the same as that of the ability I copied. If you were as fresh as me, you’d have had no problems with that.” “Well, I’m still glad you showed up,” Sonic grinned. “Thanks for the help.” “Don’t thank me yet, we’re only part of the way done. Now it’s all up to Nicole…” *** Sally’s processor being a mess was something the lynx should’ve expected. She just wasn’t expecting it to be this bad. Everything, including Mecha Sally’s functions, her passive systems, and, hopefully, the trapped consciousness of the real Sally, had been compressed into half the space it needed, which went a long way toward explaining why she was so slow. Not that Nicole was moving quickly, of course. With the density of the code and Eggman’s own shoddy work, she felt as though she were forcing her way through a dense pit of sludge, forcing her way deeper and deeper into the depths of the computer. Moving through some systems, she had discovered, felt like flying. She could float wherever she needed to go, almost unhindered. Others were more like swimming. There was some resistance, and she had to push herself, but still easily manageable. She assumed it was manageable anyway, she’d never personally done any swimming, as far as she knew, so she didn’t really understand her own comparison. Certainly, Sonic wouldn’t agree with her. This was more like crawling. As if the code around her was solid and unyielding and she had to pull herself along, battering her way through the layers of programming. Fortunately, the Doctor’s overconfidence was on her side. Barring the Power Ring Matrix, there were no defences within Mecha Sally. She didn’t want to think about fighting a firewall or an antivirus with her movements so sluggish. Finally, she felt herself speed up a little, as the broken tides of coding at long last formed something she could interact with. The ground gave way beneath her, and she found herself falling toward what looked like a wall of some sort, Eggman’s grinning logo emblazoned upon it, extending well past her range of sight, into the darkness. She flew up to the wall, inspecting it closely… There was a seam of some sort, roughly in what she assumed to be the middle of it. Not a wall, then, but a gate. That made things significantly easier. A wall would have to be torn down or punched through. A gate? That could simply be opened. Nicole pressed her palm against the steel-grey structure, green glow enveloping her, trails of emerald light spreading out from her fingers, forming an intricate lattice as they spread across the gate, separating out into more and more strands, moving in straight lines, turning only in right angles. A cluster of them encircled the Eggman logo, stabbing into it, as the eyes of the logo turned green, before the whole thing vanished, replaced with a simple glowing orb. An emerald glow shone through the seam, brightening as, with a low rumble and a heavy groan of metal, the gate slowly slid apart, steam pouring out of it, before she flew through it, landing on the solid ground she found on the other side. Something flashed in the corner of her eye, and she jumped back and upwards, dodging the incoming attack. She looked down at the program, which resembled the original form of Mecha Sally, before Eggman’s modifications, brandishing its glowing crimson claws as it stared at her with red optics. “I thought I’d find you in here,” Nicole said, landing again. In a flash, a rectangular shield of light formed on her left arm, a short sword with a triangular blade in her free hand. “Where is Sally?” Mecha Sally gave no response, charging forward again, swinging her talons at the lynx. It slammed into her shield, pushing her back for a moment, before she shoved back, overpowering the program. She primed to take a swing at her, but paused. What if this was Sally? What if the new version of the Roboticizer also converted the victim’s mind fully, rather than leaving them awake and imprisoned. If she deleted this program, would she be deleting Sally? Sensing her hesitation, the mechanical squirrel shifted, grasping the sides of the shield and pulling it down, another pair of arms appearing on her shoulders and lashing at Nicole’s face, clawing into her avatar. She yelped, as all four of the robot’s arms pulled her shield free, then slammed the edge of it into her chest. She fell back, bouncing over the ground, as Mecha Sally lunged at her, bringing her heel down on her stomach. “Beginning virus infection.” The program finally spoke, stabbing her arm into Nicole’s chest. She screamed, watching a web of crimson code spreading its way across her avatar, wrapping around her limbs and constricting her body, pinning her to the floor. She strained, struggling against the weight of the robot, and the pull of the coding trying to contain her. “You have lost. You will become a part of the Eggma-” The robot never finished her sentence, as a glowing blue blade erupted from her chest. She froze, her voice sticking for a moment, before she exploded into a cloud of data shards. The red bindings evaporated from Nicole, and she lifted her head up to meet the eyes of her rescuer. “You looked like you could use a hand.” Sally smiled down at her, holding out her left, the right clutching a sword. Nicole grabbed it immediately, standing up and hugging the squirrel. She was here, free of the programming’s influence. She looked like hell, bruised, battered and bleeding, hair messy, jacket ripped, and boots barely holding together, but she was here. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” Nicole cried out, tears filling her eyes as she felt Sally return the embrace. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve done something sooner, I should’ve saved you faster!” “Nicole, it’s okay…” She said, holding her closer. “You’ve been through a lot, you can’t be blamed for getting caught up in that. You still made it here in the end.” “Have you been fighting it this entire time?” Nicole asked, separating from the hug, looking the squirrel’s battered form up and down. “Mostly, yes. It’s been… tiring,” Sally sighed, picking up her sword again. “That program wasn’t alone, there’s a lot of them. I had hoped that by deleting them all, I’d be able to break free of Eggman’s influence. Unfortunately it seems as though any that I destroy get replaced. I’ve found where they’re coming from, but I can’t destroy it by myself. I’m not really used to existing digitally, and his grip is tight enough that I can’t be as powerful in here as you are in your own mind.” “Well, now that there’s two of us… I think we can handle it,” Nicole smiled, reforming her weapons. Sally grinned back, and began to walk forward, leading Nicole behind her. “Alright then, it’s this way,” She announced, as they picked up their pace, crossing the empty plain toward their destination. More of the Mecha Sally programs appeared, flickering into their path with a cloud of pixels, charging toward the pair of them. Sally charged forward first, slicing each of the drones apart. Nicole followed her lead. Now that she knew that none of these things were really her friend, she needn’t hold back, she could just delete them with ease. “Sally, how aware of what’s going on outside are you?” She asked, a green pulse launching from her fingers and exploding in the face of the nearest droid. “I know all of it. I’m still aware, I still have access to my memories, even if I’m not the one currently experiencing them. I know what happened to Antoine… and that Naugus took over… and I know you activated the Gizoid,” Sally replied, kicking a drone down and stabbing it through the torso. “Bunnie also left, and Rotor resigned from the council,” Nicole admitted, slamming one into the wall with her shield, cutting it in two. “Rotor refused to be a part of them after Naugus convinced the rest to exile me, and I think Bunnie’s searching for a way to help Antoine. That’s why it was just Sonic, Tails, and Amy chasing you.” “Well, looks like we’re going to have to do some cleanup when we get out of here,” Sally sliced another in half. Eventually, they cleared out the drones, cutting their way through to the source, a large domed structure, factory machines audible from inside. A door at the front opened, and more of the droids began to flood out, reaching out with claws at the two Freedom Fighters. “That’s a lot of them,” Nicole braced herself. “I know, that’s why I couldn’t get in before,” Sally replied. “But we can do this now, together.” “Right,” Nicole nodded. “Let’s go, then.” The lynx moved first, racing forward with her shield raised, barrelling into the column and bashing the Robian figures out of the way, sword lashing out to cut down those beside her. Sally followed, covering her other flank and rear. They pressed further on, cleaving apart the avatars of Eggman’s virus, never giving them a chance to push back, as Nicole’s avatar began to glow brighter and brighter. “Nicole? What’s with the glow?” Sally asked, cutting another apart. “I’m cooking up something bigger. On my signal, jump, and try to land on my shield.” “Right!” She nodded, averting her eyes and slamming the pommel of her sword into the head of the nearest drone, kicking it back and stabbing her blade through it and into the drone behind it. The drones exploded, allowing her to move the weapon again, sweeping it in a wide arc, tearing more and more of their code apart. “Sally, now!” Nicole’s voice shouted behind her. She crouched and launched herself upwards, flipping over backwards and landing directly on top of Nicole’s shield. The lynx was crouched, with the square of light held above her head, and she sprang upright, propelling herself and Sally into the air. She released her shield, allowing the momentum to carry it, and her friend, higher and higher. “Aim for the door!” Sally crouched again, pushing off from the shield and lunging for the door of the factory, arcing over the heads of the hostile programs. Nicole herself dropped down, slamming her now-free hand into the ground, roughly in the centre of the throng of enemy programs. A shockwave of jade light exploded from her palm, rippling through the army and deleting all of them, just in time for Sally to land just where the outermost ones had been standing. “We’re all clear!” Sally beamed, as the duo regrouped. “Well done, Nicole.” “Thanks, now let’s get rid of this thing and go home.” “Of course.” Heading into the factory itself, they found only a few active drones, most of the others inside being still under construction. A few gathered at the outermost end of the assembly lines, but otherwise, resistance was minimal. “This place is rather simple for one of Eggman’s factories…” Sally mused as they pressed on. It was true, the interior of the dome seemed to be little more than a circle of assembly lines making drones, spanning outwards from a central control area, far easier to navigate than the warren of corridors and dead-ends that the dictator normally filled his buildings with. “Probably because it’s not really a factory. It’s just the part of your programming that is producing the infected control code. This is just what our minds are perceiving it as, a most logical form for it. Since the systems aren’t exactly the most complex, it takes a more simplistic shape,” Nicole explained, as they walked up to the central column of the whole structure. “We’ve already dealt with the worst of the defences, now we just have to deal with the source, which we'll more than likely find in here.” “Ah, alright,” Sally tightened her grip on her weapon, taking a deep breath. “Ready?” “Yeah. You?” “Yeah.” Nicole sliced the door open, and stepped into the void on the other side. For a moment, the entire area was empty, before Sally followed her in and the room took shape. It looked like the old control room in Robotropolis- A bank of computer screens on each wall, and a throne in the centre of the room, rising out of a pit, the gap spanned by a quartet of walkways. The dim lights were red rather than green, however, and the Roboticizer was absent. “Self-destruct timer overdue. Detonator not responding. Weapon systems offline. Servos offline. Thrusters offline. Unit is disabled. Attempting system reboot.” A voice, very much like Sally’s, but devoid of emotion and with a faint grate in it, spoke up from the throne. “There, that’s the source…” Nicole whispered. Not quietly enough, it seemed, as the throne turned toward them, exposing a figure identical to Mecha Sally’s modified form, save for the Eggman logo emblazoned on her chestplate, and her hateful crimson optics. Wires and cables extended from the throne itself into her body, and as she opened her mouth to speak, her entire muzzle split open, exposing a row of fangs. “Infection located. Purging systems before attempting reboot.” She separated from the throne, the wires retracting into it as she stalked forward, moving more like a predatory animal than a Mobian or a robot. Her ‘hair’ pulled back slightly, but rather than a weapon, it exposed a baleful optic, glaring down at them. Red blades extended out of her arms, as another pair extended from her shoulders, and she lunged at the two friends. Nicole stepped forward, bringing her shield up and bracing for the impact, but it never came. The robot leapt over her head, aiming her weapons at Sally herself. The squirrel jumped aside, letting her counterpart hit the ground as Nicole slashed at her back, two of her arms blocking the strike. Mecha Sally stood upright, rounding on them both. She stepped between them, right arms lashing at Nicole, the left at Sally. Neither side found its mark, locking with the organic’s sword and crashing against the AI’s shield, pressing against each other for a moment. Mecha Sally withdrew her blades, causing her two attackers to overbalance, before spinning her torso section, holding out her arms as her blades became a wheel of scarlet light, shrieking through the air between them. Both reeled back, avoiding any damage, but held at bay by the continuous spin. The robot glanced between them, then took a step toward Nicole, pushing her back. The lynx growled, struggling to hold her shield up against the constant barrage of blades. Sally followed, trying to strike under the wheel, but something else struck her in the stomach, cutting into her and throwing her back. Mecha Sally stopped, and thrust all four of her blades into Nicole’s shield, penetrating it and tearing it apart. At the same time, six barbed metal tendrils, tipped with spikes, extended from her upper back. One of them had hit the Princess, who carefully climbed back to her feet during the brief pause. Nicole let the remains of her shield fall, taking her sword in both hands and doubling its size and weight. She bodily swung the weapon at her opponent, knocking her off-balance for a moment as its blades struggled to block the heavier weapon. She pressed her attack, holding the greatsword over her head and swinging it down, forcing Mecha Sally to use all four of her own to block it. Yet, as Nicole began to turn the tide, Sally wasn’t faring so well. The tendrils snaked out toward her, curling past her attempts to block them, forcing her to dodge. As the robot shifted to try and evade Nicole’s strikes, so she backed her own counterpart toward the walkway. The barbs nicked at her already-injured form, cutting and grazing her skin, never quite hitting home, but hurting all the same. Finally, she made that crucial mistake. As the tendrils arced toward her, pincering from both sides and thrusting forward, Sally stepped back out of their reach, and onto the narrow, railed platform. Her blade severed one of them, getting just the right angle to slice it apart, but the robot wasn’t deterred. She stepped back, giving herself room once more, and lashed out at Sally. There was no room for her to dodge anymore, and her metallic counterpart was too close for her to just back away. The first wrapped around Sally’s sword, wrenching it from her grip as it grasped her arm too, three more grappling with her remaining limbs, as Nicole looked up and realised, too late, why the program hadn’t been focused on her. “Sally!” She cried out, trying to juke around Mecha Sally, only to meet her blades again, blocking her path. The final tendril plunged into Sally’s chest, the other four driving into her back as a pulse of crimson rippled down each of them, and the princess screamed. When the red flash faded, the tendrils retracted, and a second Mecha Sally stood on the bridge, looking identical to her actual form in the outside world. “You should not have brought her here. That was the last of her mind. Now it is a part of me.” The first Mecha Sally stood over Nicole, as the lynx stared at her friend in horror. “You have failed. This unit will not be taken from its Master. Surrender and be assimilated.” “Never!” Nicole growled, thrusting her sword forward once more. “So be it.” Sally stood on the bridge, unable to move. She looked out at the two other programs through a red haze, but focusing on the whirl of blades proved impossible. Her mind was occupied, but with what? She’d been hurt, that thing had stabbed her, but it wasn’t that… she didn’t feel a pain in her chest or her back, but in her head. But why did she have a headache? Robots didn’t get headaches. And her sister-unit hadn’t stabbed her there… She focused her attention on the ache in her processor and finally realised what was happening to her, as she felt the same corrupting code that filled the other Mecha Sally was now writing itself into her. Burying her under another layer of obedience to her hated enemy, one that even Nicole wouldn’t be able to breach. But that wasn’t her. These weren’t her thoughts. None of this was part of her, and she refused to let it have its way. She refused to let Eggman’s virus claim her. She wasn’t a robot, and she wasn’t going to accept being one. The red haze faded from her vision, and she moved, arms sliding open as blue energy blades slid into place along her forearms. She jumped from the bridge, and launched herself directly at her monstrous counterpart, driving her swords into its back. Mecha Sally let out a modulated scream, arching back as Sally’s weapons tore through its armour, destroyed the mounting points for its tendrils, and poked out through its chestplate. It staggered sinking to its knees as Sally looked over the top of its head at Nicole. “Are you okay?” She asked, as the AI’s face broke out in a giddy smile. “I should be the one asking you that!” She called back. The robot wasn’t done, however. Her head snapped around, locking optics with Sally, as all four of her arms reached back and pulled her attacker away from her, before flipping Sally overhead and slamming her into the ground in front of Nicole. Sally fired the engines in her feet, launching herself across the ground and bowling her counterpart off of her feet. Falling forward, the droid’s chestplate was torn away by Nicole’s blade, exposing a blazing scarlet orb inside, pulsing rapidly. The program climbed back upright, blocking a second strike from the lynx, before launching herself after Sally. All four of her swords thrust toward the squirrel, only to miss their mark as she twisted herself around and cleaved through the second pair of forearms, severing them. Mecha Sally roared, swinging out wildly and clipping her opponent’s thruster, sending her into a downward spin. As she paused to recollect herself, however, Nicole snatched Sally from the air and brought her to a safe landing on the bridge. “Thanks, Nicole.” Sally smiled as much as she could with a metal face, standing herself upright and scooping up the sword she’d dropped earlier, as the two looked up at the hostile robot. It howled with rage, and charged down toward them. Jumping aside, the two separated as she flew between them and ripped the bridge apart, descending into the pit a short distance before arcing back upwards, soaring above their heads. It locked onto Nicole, snarling at her as it dove toward her. “You die first! You brought her here! She will be converted once you are dead, but you are first! You will die!” It howled, drawing its blades back for the attack. Nicole responded in kind, racing up toward the virus, greatsword primed to drive forward. As they drew close, she took advantage of her weapon’s greater size, thrusting it directly upwards and into Mecha Sally’s gut, cleanly impaling her. The robot’s flight stopped immediately, stunned, as Nicole continued to push upwards, allowing herself a smile as she saw Sally rising into her flight path and beginning to fly down toward the pair. “You missed! Failed! Failure! You’re trapped!” Mecha Sally screeched, raising her weapons again. “Did I miss?” Nicole asked, smirking slightly, locking eyes with the incoming Robian, who shot the same look back at her, brandishing her sword. “My core still burns! I still function! You will still die!”” “Behind you!” “What!?” Mecha Sally’s upper torso snapped around, just in time for the two entangled opponents to collide with the real Sally, as her blade tore through her mutated counterpart’s open chest cavity, impaling her flickering core and erupting from her already-ravaged backplate. Mecha Sally’s optics went wide for a moment, and she let out an ear-splitting shriek, before her core exploding, a bright red fireball ripping through the room and throwing both Freedom Fighters into the walls with a heavy thud. When the light faded, the red aura was gone from the room entirely, replaced with a softer blue. Sally slowly clambered to her feet, stumbling slightly before Nicole caught her, and enveloped her in a tight hug. “Thank you, Nicole… for everything,” She sighed, returning the gesture. “Me? You’re the one that did most of the work!” Nicole replied. “And I couldn’t have done any of it without you,” Sally smiled, letting her sword fall to the ground, before she released her friend and turned toward the throne. “Only one thing left to do now…” Sally walked forward, striding up to the seat, and sat herself down on it. The wires snaked out of it once more, plugging into her body as she closed her optics and tensed herself for a moment. Then, with a brilliant flash of azure light, the dark control room was washed away, fading into the aether as the throne room of the old Acorn palace, the same one that Sally had lived in as a child, took its place. The sun shone through the windows, birds chirping outside, as Sally, restored to her organic form, no sign of the cuts and bruises she’d accumulated over her time trapped in her own head, rested on the seat, smiling warmly. *** Outside, on the frozen tundra, the five Freedom Fighters still stood, waiting quietly. Sonic paced back and forth, while Tails distracted himself by looking over the schematic hologram that Emerl had created. Silver stood nearby, still focused on the Robian, ready to move at a second’s notice if she became active and hostile again. Amy and Emerl just waited, the former looking more apprehensive than the latter. Then, Mecha Sally jolted, as her locked joints disengaged once more, and she began to stumble forward, steadying herself before she could trip. All five looked up at her, expressions a mix of expectant and fearful, before she stood upright, Nicole appeared over her shoulder, and both of them smiled. “Hello, everyone.”

#Sonic: Revival #Sonic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fanfic #Sally Acorn #Nicole the Lynx #Emerl the Gizoid #Miles Tails Prower #Amy Rose #Silver the Hedgehog #Mecha Sally

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kimistorm · 3 years

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It’s All a Little Strange || Chapter 6 (Dr. Strange x Reader)

This is chapter 6 of my series, if this is your first time, please check out my masterlist to get caught up!

“Stop!” Mordo yelled as well and Stephen snapped out of his stupor a moment before you crashed into him.

“What were you thinking!” you demanded and got back onto your feet without helping Stephen to his feet.

“Tampering with the continuum of probability is forbidden!” Mordo shouted as he ran up to Stephen.

“I told you that!” you shouted in frustration, “I told you that warnings go after the spell!”

“Either way, they really should-”

“Don’t do that.” You stated stubbornly and refused to look Stephen in the eye, “don’t...mess with stuff you don’t understand.” You finished quietly and wiped a tear that had fallen.

“I clearly understood it if I could do it, and I read through the book.” Stephen protested.

“Wha? (f/n), is this sentiment coming through?” he asked in amusement.

“If you’re done having your domestic-” Mordo started.

“Oh my gosh Mordo!” you shouted, “this was not a domestic!” you pointed rapidly between the two of you.

“I’ve got a photographic memory,” Stephen explained, “it’s how I got my M.D. and Ph.D at the same time.”

“What you just did,” Mordo once again gestured to the Eye of Agamotto, “takes more than a good memory. You were born for the mystic arts.”

“Hold up,” you stepped into the conversation, “how can you conclude that?”

“What about you,” you continued to sulk and crossed your arms, “can you utilize the Eye?”

“I’ve never tried.” Mordo answered simply.

Stephen shook his head, “I side with (f/n), my hands still shake.” He lifted his hands up to show that they were indeed trembling.

“For now, yes.” Mordo agreed.

“Not forever?” Stephen asked excitedly.

“(f/n)?” Mordo and Stephen turned to look at you as you looked down at the pager.

“You guys go on ahead. Looks like I’m needed at the hospital.” You opened a portal into your room to change, “and it was my off day too.”

You hurriedly changed and portaled a block away from the hospital. You were still straightening your clothes when you burst into the hospital.

“Oh (f/n)! I’m so glad you could make it!” Christine gestured for you to follow her.

“What’s the emergency?” you asked and pulled your hair into a ponytail.

“Our other cardiovascular surgeon is in the middle of a surgery right now, but this guy needs immediate attention.” She explained and led you to a surgery room, “it’ll be quick.”

“Yeah?” she asked and looked at you.

“Listen, I’ve got to go. It’s an emergency.” You hurriedly told her.

“Go ahead. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“Thanks Christine!” you called over your shoulder and ran out of the hospital. You found an alleyway and portaled straight to the front of the New York sanctum and burst through the doors.

“I’ve got to hand it to you Kaecilius.” You called out and he spun around to face you, “you didn’t pick an awful time.”

“Who is this chick in scrubs?” you heard one of the zealots mutter.

“Yep!” he shouted.

“Give me a break Daniel! I’m trying to be cool here!” you protested and noticed Stephen standing on the balcony above, “I need to be a cool mentor!”

“Quit while you’re ahead (f/n)!” Daniel laughed.

“Nope!” you heard Daniel yell and a whip shot out and pulled the zealot away from you.

“Oh, so now I can fight?” Stephen asked in annoyance.

“Are you still good at that one spell?” Daniel questioned and grunted as he ducked an attack, “because now would be a good time!”

“On it!” you responded and your chakrams dissolved as you summoned a fiery whip and hooked it onto the balcony above the lobby and swung yourself up.

“What are you doing?” Stephen asked as you stood next to him and held your hands together in a symbol.

“She’s too much trouble,” you heard Kaecilius call out followed by a grunt as he dodged a punch from Daniel, “kill her.”

“No!” you heard two voices yell out and the zealot formed a space shard poised for your heart.

“(f/n)!” you heard Stephen scream and the weapon rushed down at your chest.

“(f/n)! (f/n)!” Stephen rushed to your side.

That shook him out of his reverie and he scrambled up to his feet to go and help Daniel, “stop!” he cried out and leapt over the railing of the balcony to deal with what had happened.

“I don’t want to kill you.” You told the zealot.

“(f/n)!” Stephen gasped as he saw how bloodied your clothes were and how pale you were.

You shook your head (which you regretted since you were taken over by a wave of nausea), “Kaecilius. Where’s Daniel?”

You turned a corner and nearly ran into Stephen who was pulling down a wardrobe, “it won’t do anything, leave it!” you commanded and continued to run.

The two of you made it into the room full of relics, “(f/n), hide. You can’t fight like this.” Stephen ordered.

“I won’t just leave you.” You argued.

masterlist

taglist: @panhoeofmanyfandoms @daydreamer-in-training (message me if you'd like to be added!)

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years

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Homestuck Liveblog #185

UPDATE 185: Get What You Want

Last time Dirk’s hijacking has been hijacked by the version of Calliope that’s deep in the black hole. She also took over Jade, because if there’s one thing this meat epilogue has a lot of is hijacking. Should be the Hijack Epilogue. So let’s continue.

Terezi has been standing there for a while, and she mentions smelling, so it’s likely this is the version that’s from Earth C, instead of any version that’s able to see. What have you been doing all this time, Terezi? Mind talking about that? Looks like she doesn’t, she’s busy commenting John smells like shit. He really must, what with all the vomit on himself and also the blood, the broken glasses, and finally the big-ass golden tooth stuck on his chest. It’s no surprise everyone John’s seeing tells him right away he should go clean himself.

I like how Calliope’s descriptive narration takes the time to point out all the flesh and dull teeth the characters move, since it’s all alien to her. The way she describes it amuses me a lot. Another reason to prefer this over Dirk’s narration, really. Less pretentious rambling, more amusing asides.

Somehow John spends a few paragraphs thinking Terezi is cute, even going as far as saying the term ‘gap moe’ would apply to her. I’m not really knowledgeable about such terms or really know much about what defines them, but never, in a million years, I’d have thought of calling Terezi ‘gap moe’. Who would have before this was written? I blame you for this, Hussie.

I don’t fucking believe this.

I know, right? Thanks, Dirk.

Dead Calliope is not judgmental and couldn’t care less about John’s cuteness thoughts about Terezi or about creepy human males gathering seven billion pillows with anime characters. Be relieved, John!

There’s a reference to Monty Python, and John says their movies suck, which is blasphemy as far as I’m concerned. It’s correctly said Alternia sucks, and Terezi gets sick, because apparently half of the characters in this epilogue has to be sick or fainting. I’m almost thinking somebody will take over Terezi in the next minute, but thankfully it doesn’t seem like that’s happening.

So, the reason why Terezi is about to faint is because she’s starving to death, she hasn’t eaten in who knows how long. I suppose she has been wandering in the middle of nowhere for a loooong time, and if she took any food with her it must already be gone. She doesn’t have a concrete destination in mind, I suppose. She must be flying around just for the sake of not being on Earth C. If it wasn’t for John here maybe she’d be doomed to die alone in the emptiness of paradox space.

Searching for food in the wallet only nets them a car. Hey, that’s good! I remember John used his wind powers to make a car float and fly, this could be a fast way of going around, although...given John’s delicate state, it may not be good for him to use his powers extensively, poor guy. Terezi isn’t very impressed a car was stored in a wallet.

JOHN: what are you doing out here anyway?

TEREZI: WH4T DO YOU TH1NK 1M DO1NG OUT H3R3?

TEREZI: LOOK1NG FOR VR1SK4 OF COURS3

Oh. So she didn’t leave Earth C because she was going to feel overwhelmed by everything like Rose and Dirk, she went all the way out here to look for Vriska. Good thing John isn’t aware of what happened to Vriska, because how to explain to the person who has almost starved to death that the person she’s looking for was sucked in a black hole? On the other hand, if she had arrived here earlier, she’d have been involved in the Lord English fight and that means she likely would have died. She got a bit lucky there.

I wonder if now that Terezi has heard finding Vriska is impossible she’ll want to return to Earth C. I also wonder if when she gets into that Earth she’ll suddenly feel the same thing Rose and Dirk felt, whether it’s because of her power or because Dirk or Dead Calliope force it on her.

Time doesn’t pass linearly here in the emptiness, so I’m not sure how old Terezi is. She may be just as old as John is, she sounds a bit delighted he’s older. The examination by smell ends when she discovers shaving cream and tries to eat it. Oh boy, she really must be starving! Somehow she seems to be satisfied by it, so maybe it’s not bad for trolls. Who knows.

but no. it’s just my brother’s tooth, lodged deep in his chest, spreading its poison. it really should be extracted before it’s too late.

Hey, now that I think about it, did Caliborn embed a vial of poison or whatever in that tooth? For no reason? Did he have any reason to think someday he’d be biting somebody and leaving the golden tooth behind? Did he install poison in there just because he wanted to? I mean, it wouldn’t really be out of character for him to randomly decide he wants a poisonous gold tooth, but it’s not like he’d have the chance to use it against many people!

Now that Terezi is gorging herself with shaving cream and seems to be a little better, John wants to return home, most likely by zapping, so he can get medical attention for the fatal injury he has right now. Terezi doesn’t want to, I guess because being with an agonizing John is a pleasant enough experience. Kind of inconsiderate, Terezi, let the poor guy get medical attention. John, being the sweet guy he is, accepts and decides to drive around with wind, waiting for Terezi to decide they can go home.

Iiii don’t remember John having such romantic feelings in Homestuck. He did have something that could resemble black romance, at least for a little while, but this is red. He must have really missed her.

Back in Earth C, Jane returns to the office after another political event.

the last traces of trickster mode are bleeding off her aura. the great gift of this sacred boon has run its course for the evening, and though she is not as grateful as she should be, she nevertheless acknowledges the extraordinary benefit it has afforded her with a slight nod to the mirror.

She has been using the lollipop Calliope gave her to get rid of any inhibitions and say whatever she wants in political conferences, without a care if she’s stepping on any toes or offending anyone. Wow. I was actually speechless for a moment. Using the trickster thing again seems like a stupid idea. I can only imagine what the sugary rambling was like. Hopefully it included 100% less paragraphs about having babies with literally all her friends.

however, while a great portion of the electorate adores jane’s elevated sense of charisma and presence when she is in trickster mode, as they should, there are just as many detractors who claim that the whole thing is “extremely problematic.” i doubt this is true but must also acknowledge it exceeds the scope of my expertise to comment on the subject.

JANE: Oh my goodness.

JANE: It’s NOT problematic!

Oh, it’s definitely a problem for your sanity, Jane. This whole political thing is starting to seem a chain of bad decisions, one after another.

Jane’s inner monologue almost looks like it was funneled into her by Dead Calliope, given how she’s praising the lollipop so much. Dead Calliope better not start imitating Dirk on this, thanks. A moment later, Jane tosses the lollipop on the floor, then turns around much to her surprise and places it on a more reverent place over the mantle. Dead Calliope really is forcing things when it’s convenient, too. Okay then.

JANE: You know, the last time we spoke about this issue I could have sworn you asked me to let you handle Jake.

DIRK: Hmm.

DIRK: I guess I did say that.

JANE: ...

JANE: Dirk, are you doing quite okay?

JANE: It’s very unlike you to forget details like that.

DIRK: I’m fine, Jane.

the prince is not fine. he is not the type who takes well to having his plans upended, or his control of a shared vehicle fully suppressed. my brother wasn’t much that type either.

DIRK: Oh, fuck off. I’m nothing like that guy.

It has been days, apparently. Days since Dirk and Rose met, days since he told Jane that. Dirk somehow forgot to go get Jake’s endorsement for days. He definitely is not okay. I thought you were good at multitasking, Dirk! Maybe Dead Calliope’s hijacking of his plans really hit him hard, but dang, I thought he wasn’t the kind of person that’d let miserable failures get to him. I mean, other than the miserable failure that led to him fading away into glitches in that doomed timeline, but that’s a different matter.

but certain objects and actions strike me as more notable than others. that very long, red rifle on the table, for instance. a weapon that does not belong to him and has not been used in a long time. he has been returning to the rifle between his other menial activities of probable misdirection. he dismantles it, reassembles it, slides off the receiver cover to examine the firing mechanism.

Sounds familiar. That was seen before, I think? I think it was made by combining one of Jade’s rifles with some of the Condesce’s technology, back from Act 6. It makes objects teleport, I believe. What could Dirk be planning with this, I wonder...

JANE: Actually, I have been thinking...

JANE: Perhaps this attempt to get Jake on our side is the wrong angle from which to approach this vexing problem.

JANE: Wouldn’t it be much easier to discredit or blackmail him?

JANE: He is much beloved in the Troll Kingdom for his carefully cultivated posterior, true.

JANE: But we both know that his bottom is not the only intimate attribute for which he is famed amongst Trollish citizens.

JANE: It would take almost nothing to expose his many dalliances through the human media.

DIRK: Hoo boy.

JANE: I know! Not to be judgmental, but his zipper is as loose as his pants are tight.

DIRK: That’s not what I meant by hoo boy.

JANE: You don’t think it would work?

DIRK: Oh, it could work.

That’d be such a way to break Jake’s heart and alienate him forever. If this is ever done, you can bet Jake won’t show his face to anyone ever again, whether it’s out of shame or feelings of betrayal. I suppose if he for some reason decides to support Karkaroni this is what Jane will do, but seriously, I hope things don’t come to that.

What makes Jake so marketable – supposedly – is that he’s viewed as innocent while also sexual, at least in the human circles. Discrediting that would break his influence on the human public. Somehow that makes sense, really, but it also has the danger of making it sound like interspecies sex is scandalous, which is...not really something that won’t inflame tensions between species. Wasn’t the point of this whole election that Karkaroni getting elected would make things tense? It’s starting to sound like Jane’s campaign would make things just as bad.

JANE: Dirk... do you want me to deal with Jake or not? You’ve offered nothing helpful yet, but you’ve shot down all my ideas.

DIRK: That’s because lately, all your ideas have been fucking terrible, Jane.

DIRK: Seriously. You’ve got to quit the tricksterpop. It’s rotting your brain.

He’s not wrong! He really isn’t. Jane, listen to him, he tends to be right most of the time – unfortunately for a lot of people he is. Dead Calliope takes offense to the insult to the cherub artifact, but seriously, Dirk is right.

After a baking metaphor and Dead Calliope making sure nothing will happen to the lollipop, the conversation ends, and Dirk focuses on the rifle. He’s satisfied with it. What’s he up to?

DIRK: Your ass is mine, Jake English.

he speaks under his breath inaudibly, perhaps frustrated, unaccustomed to scheming while others look over his shoulder. it’s possible he is not as bold, or as confident in his own designs as i believed.

DIRK: I fucking said, your ass is mine, Jake English.

Oh no! So that’s Dirk’s genius political machination! He’ll use the teleportation rifle to surgically remove Jake’s ass from a distance by transporting it to his workshop, getting rid of any influence Jake has on anyone! Okay, most likely that’s not his plan, but at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if it is. Let’s hope he doesn’t mean that literally.

JAKE: Ah chaps dont you love to take a rigorous jaunt about the wilds first thing in the morning, middle thing in the day, and last thing in the evening?

Said Jake, unaware of the shot that’d extricate his posterior in the blink of an eye—okay, I have to stop with that.

Apparently Jake is torturing Karkaroni by making him hike around in a freaking suit. That can’t be good! Is this something he’s doing to get Jake’s favor? Because if so then it’s not worth it! You couldn’t get me to hike in a suit unless you paid me a veeeeery large amount of money.

DAVE: hey jake were cool on the whole cardio program or whatever

DAVE: karkats not really what id call a kinesthetic learner

KARKAT: HEY!

KARKAT: I CAN HOLD MY OWN IN A THRESHING MATCH BETTER THAN 99% OF THE SQUISHY, PLACID HUMAN POPULATION ON THIS PLANET.

KARKAT: I WAS LITERALLY TRAINING TO BE A COMBAT SPECIALIST ON ALTERNIA.

KARKAT: MAYBE WE SHOULD SOMETIMES TRY TO REMEMBER AND *FUCKING RESPECT* THAT FACT ABOUT ME???

DAVE: hm

DAVE: gonna make another mental note about which material to avoid when writing your campaign speeches

DAVE: like

DAVE: dude is nuts with a sickle

DAVE: can carve a bloody arc through a surrounding circle of gathered squishy humans

DAVE: watch their guts spill on the floor while he roars at the sky in honor of his genocidal ancestors

DAVE: were kinda trying to downplay the idea that trolls are naturally good at violence and shit here?

Hm. Recently I found out the sharp edge of sickles and scythes are on the inside, not the outside, so I call shenanigans on the deadliness of a sickle when it’s about groups of people. Hah! But yeah, they better avoid anything that involves killing humans and how good the trolls would be at that with some training. Don’t say it aloud, you’ll give Jane ideas!

Apparently they hadn’t popped the question to Jake yet, they just did. Jake doesn’t seem very eager to give the endorsement, so Dave tries his hand at appealing to him by pointing out Jane owns the internet, and also that Jane has been saying some nasty things of Jake in the media. Wait, did Jane go ahead with her idea of ruining Jake’s good name? Oh god, she continued messing with the lollipop and lost any inhibitions about not doing that, didn’t she. That’s what happened, I bet. Goshdarnit, Jane.

By now I’m pretty sure ‘Jane Crocker has neoliberal austerity measures’ is the troll campaign’s slogan.

KARKAT: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

KARKAT: I’M GOING TO SAY THIS FOR THE LAST TIME.

KARKAT: SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF IS ABSOLUTELY HORRENDOUS SUBJECT MATTER FOR PRODUCING CAMPAIGN ADS!

KARKAT: NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, OR WHAT POINTS YOU’RE TRYING TO MAKE!

...ah. He’s using that surreal nonsensical creation of his to argue his points in the campaign ads.

...

Okay, Jane has the election in the bag. So much for being a savvy advisor, Dave!

At least Jake appreciates they’re not trying to disguise their appeals with a lot of pleasantries and sweet words, or trying to seduce him with blue dresses and scotch. After Karkaroni insults Jake half a dozen or so times to his face, Jake tries to settle things down by pretty much saying he’s not convinced yet and that he still hasn’t been given a reason to side with them against Jane, and Jane hasn’t given him such a reason either.

JAKE: Im not entirely ignorant of the rules of this jamboree. I understand that whoever i endorse will have a good chance of winning on nothing but my good word.

Jake definitely isn’t the smartest cookie in this baker’s dozen, but he’s not so dense he wouldn’t realize how desperate both sides are to try to recruit him, and he can pinpoint the reason. Good, he’s aware how important he is in this entire debacle, thank goodness.

JAKE: So why should i trust ANYONE trying to win my favor right now? Do you have ANY case to make which does not involve glowing accounts of my muscular bottom???

Quick, mention to him how you want a wink and double pistols instead of a picture of his ass, that’ll win him over.

Dirk comments spitefully Jake has no proactive thoughts – thanks for your commentary, Dirk, go away – and it’s up to Karkaroni to deliver the effective arguments to get Jake’s support. Oh, this is going to be good! Go ahead, show your oratory chops!

Karkaroni’s argument is that he’s not trying to pull the wool over Jake’s eyes, he’s not trying to hide his intentions or disguise things under a veneer of niceness. Jane is, and she’s more concerned with how things look than how they actually are. He has a point there, I think. Also, she’s holding an entire species’ reproductive rights hostage and that still resembles the Condesce’s actions too much for me to like it. To Karkaroni’s credit it’s a pretty good speech, I actually like it. Will it be enough to convince Jake?

he thinks it could break jane’s heart were he to oppose her. and yet, hasn’t she fired the first shot by broadcasting such scandalous things about him in the media? and it was so soon after they’d nearly had an intimate reconciliation. the more he thinks on it, the more jake struggles to believe in the sincerity behind jane’s friendship with him.

Oh god, she definitely is throwing mud at him. Jane, what the hell.

Until now he had been afraid of disappointing Jane and Dirk, but with Jane throwing stones at him and Dirk being insidious and thankfully far away from him right now, Jake decides he’ll do it: he’ll support Karkaroni. They did it! I’m actually surprised! Hopefully he’ll be able to do something before Dirk retaliates, but really, nice job, guys!

The matter of how much clout he’ll have left with humans is something that remains to be seen, as well as the intensity of Jane’s maybe-scandalous broadcasting about Jake, but this is a minor victory.

Hey, John, how’s it going?

Terezi is munching her way through another tin of human fatherly tobacco as john crawls into the back seat. this has been their ritual for several days. precisely how many, they couldn’t say.

...you know, for an injury that’s poisoned and almost fatal, John sure is lasting a long time. Are we sure it was as bad as it was said to be?

Since they have nothing better to do, John asks questions about how Terezi is the way she is, with her licking and smelling and eating tobacco as if it was chocolate. He says all of his conversations with her was a snark-off or a jokey argument – or that time she literally led to his death, lest we forget that. Somehow, John implied she’s difficult to be around, which isn’t really wrong, but...something I like of Terezi is that although she’s a bit exhausting, she has this way of talking that makes her fun to be around, most of the time. Ever since her pesterlogs that was shown pretty well.

All John wants is a real conversation, because he has been really depressed and antisocial these last few years, and although he doesn’t admit it to her, it was already stated pretty clearly he missed Terezi a lot. She’s here now! So he wants to talk to her. Although she’s really flippant about it, she appreciates it and calls John a dork in an affectionate manner. She may not show it often, but she really appreciates this kind of thing.

All this makes John reminisce about that doomed Game Over timeline, where Terezi bled seventy gallons of blood all over the place and collapsed in an outline made with her own chalk. She had been able to give him good instructions even though she was dying horribly, and John really admires that, he’s even a bit intimidated by it. Terezi admits she remembers that timeline too and is the reason she’s out here in the middle of nowhere.

TEREZI: TH4T DOOM3D T3R3Z1 M1SS3D VR1SK4 *SO* MUCH, 1T W4S L1K3 4 HOL3 1N H3R H34RT

TEREZI: 1 R3M3MB3R TH3 W4Y SH3 F3LT, B3C4US3 ON3 T1M3, 4LL H3R M3MOR13S C4M3 FLOOD1NG B4CK

TEREZI: 1 3V3N GOT TO S33 WH4T H4PP3N3D WH3N SH3 D13D

TEREZI: SH3 4ND 4NOTH3R VR1SK4 GHOST F1N4LLY FOUND 34CH OTH3R

TEREZI: 1T M4D3 M3 SO H4PPY G3TT1NG TO F33L TH4T, 4S 1F 1T W4S ON3 OF MY OWN M3MOR13S

Hmmmm...I suppose remembering all that made her want to look for Vriska, at least to feel again that happiness, because she feels Vriska and she have a connection of some sort. They do, that’s got to be admitted. Now she’s been unable to find Vriska and likely never won’t.

JOHN: you SAVED everyone!

JOHN: you’re the only reason we were able to defeat lord english and win the game at all!

JOHN: if it weren’t for you, me and roxy would have just floated around in paradox space like a couple of losers with no idea what to do!

JOHN: even worse, i might have tried to fix things MYSELF!

TEREZI: OH D34R GOD

JOHN: yeah!!!

Now that I think about it...he’s right. It was Terezi’s guidance what made the best canon timeline happen, without her it’d all have ended in the Game Over timeline. She did save everyone. Maybe things with the fight with Lord English would have gone better if she had been around to give them advice of some sort. If only.

It’s possible the reason why John has been staying in this car circling the black hole isn’t only because he doesn’t want to leave Terezi behind, but also because he doesn’t feel like Earth C is for him. Which is a sentiment I’m not sure I understand, I have to admit. They worked so hard to achieve it and he’s not happy with his life there. It’s strange.

TEREZI: WH4T 3ND3D UP H4PP3N1NG W1TH ROXY?

JOHN: i...

JOHN: dunno.

JOHN: we just sorta stopped hanging out regularly.

JOHN: then she got close with callie and i felt too awkward to try to figure out where our relationship stood.

TEREZI: R34LLY?

TEREZI: HMM

JOHN: what?

TEREZI: 1 JUST 4SSUM3D TH4T BY NOW YOU TWO M1GHT H4V3 GOTT3N TOG3TH3R

JOHN: really?

JOHN: why?

TEREZI: NO R34SON. JUST 4 HUNCH

TEREZI: 1 DONT TH1NK 1T WOULD H4V3 WORK3D OUT THOUGH

Right, it was a couple that had potential to happen. I wonder if it’d have worked out if they really had stayed together. Roxy seemed to really like him, it’s possible John going antisocial and depressed pushed her away. That’s tragic. Still, makes me wonder how that’d have been like if it had actually happened.

Now that he admitted he missed Terezi a lot, he asks her to come home with him. Better that than staying near the black hole doing nothing, no?

TEREZI: 1

TEREZI: 1M NOT R34DY Y3T

JOHN: when WILL you be ready?

TEREZI: 1 DONT KNOW

TEREZI: M4YB3 N3V3R

TEREZI: 1F YOU H4DNT FOUND M3, 1 PROB4BLY WOULD H4V3 D13D R1GHT?

TEREZI: 1S TH4T WH4T 1 W4NT?

JOHN: um, obviously not, dummy!

JOHN: if you wanted to die so bad you wouldn’t have...

JOHN: ...eaten all that disgusting shaving cream and tobacco!

I’m not very certain this is any good. Terezi hardly can be any healthier after eating all the shaving cream and tobacco. It could be she knows that and is just...eating stuff she knows she shouldn’t. But hey, Terezi decides John’s right, she’s not really looking for death. To me it seems she was looking for a meaningful relationship – doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic -- and thought Vriska would be the one to give it to her. Now John’s here, and he’s sincere about missing Terezi, so he’s a good option.

She seems afraid to let go of John, not even for him to get real food. She really is desperate for something meaningful.

now that he dwells on it, he can feel the ache again, both from the tooth piercing his flesh and, more insidiously, from the poison it has been delivering into his bloodstream.

For days. Least effective lethal poison ever.

Terezi isn’t really interested in leaving that tooth embedded into John and is ready to do some surgical operation with her katana. Hah! Oh boy, on paper this sounds like a pretty lousy idea, but it’s as good as it can get when they’re floating in a car around a black hole. May as well give it a try and hope he doesn’t die. Better plan than John’s ‘let’s let the tooth come out on its own’, plan.

She can’t even see/smell/hear anything because his shirt is over the wound! It’s almost laughable. That aside, how is the nasty wound from a poisonous tooth in John’s chest less gross than the description of he eating meat? I’m still scarred about that.

Terezi’s ready to do surgery with her sword, while John gazes poetically at her face and describes her as feminine. He’s really into her, seriously! The go-ahead is given, Terezi gets ready to dig in.

TEREZI: HMMM

TEREZI: 1TS LODG3D 1N TH3R3 PR3TTY GOOD

TEREZI: BR4C3 YOURS3LF 3GB3RT, TH1S 1S GO1NG TO ST1NG

John’s taking this admirably well already, for someone getting a sword between his ribs to take out a tooth I’m pretty sure is the size of a fist. I wouldn’t blame him if he passes out from the pain.

Once the tooth is out, now they have to stop the bleeding. She takes off John’ clothes, John is dizzy, Terezi is doing all the work here. She’s doing well, at least until John pulls her closer and gives her a kiss, because getting toxic teeth extracted from your chest makes you horny, I guess. Golly, John, you could have waited until she was done, at least!

Not that she’s not into it. She’s going into this with enthusiasm, she even lets John take off her shirt. You know, pretty amazing that in one plot there’s a whole lot of political nonsense, and on the other plot John and Terezi are getting romantic in a car. The disparity is so jarring, guys, I almost can’t believe it’s the same webcomic.

TEREZI: OH MY GOD YOUR BLOOD SM3LLS D3L1C1OUS

JOHN: woah.

JOHN: um, wow.

JOHN: ok...

JOHN: i think you’re really pretty, in... the light of the dead universe?

Smooth.

This page ends with them getting even more intense with their snogging. This went in some rather intense directions! When I started reading these epilogues none of this was even close to what I expected. Oh well.

I’ll continue next time.

Next time: next update

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #webcomics #liveblog #webcomic liveblog

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calliecat93 · 5 years

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RvB17 Episode 9 Review: Succession

You know something that's gotten on my last nerve dear readers? Nostalgia banking. What should be a good feeling about seeing something that you once loved and haven't seen in so long has now become a cheap cash0in for the media. It's now just lazy and downright insufferable with the constant reboots and remakes of nostalgic properties, like every Disney thing ever in the past decade. Why am I bringing this up? Because while it's nowhere near as bad as with other things, this season of RvB is very much counting on nostalgia to help win it over, just look at the Freelancer fan-service in Episode 5. It was fan-service that made sense in context in all fairness... but still fan-service. And that is the ONLY excuse as to why we're doing Felix again.

Alright, let's quit with the bitching and get to the reviewing.

Overview

Tucker has gone back to S11, at the moment where they lose half the team tot he Feds at Crash Site Bravo. The problem causing the paradox? Genkins has possessed Lopez Dos.0 and is making it so that the Reds and Blues win. As such, Tucker has to ensure that they lose and recreate the circumstances that lead to one of the worst days of his life. Damn,t hat's harsh bro. But he does it, even taking one of Genkins' attacks at point blank since Genkins still can't harm a shisno. Tucker takes him down, and as such aside from some minor differences, the overall conditions go as they are meant to. Genkins retreats.

The scene cuts to later, where Felix is talking to Tucker about what happened and it's still when he had his good guy facade. Tucker I going along with it... until he starts hearing voices telling him to kill Felix. The voice? Genkins, who jumped into the AI module in Tucker's armor. He tries to convince Tucker to kill Felix before he can betray them... but Tucker refuses. There's already a plan in place, and not even Genkins reminding him that it's Donut's plan deters him. He recalls how, since Chorus, he's tried to act as a leader should... but in reality, he just acted even more like an egotistical battle. But now he realizes that a leader is someone who steps up and does what needs to be done, something that Donut has so far done moreso than anyone else. Realizing that he's failed, Genkins retreats once more.

Tucker goes back to Iris, the agreed meeting point, where Donut already is. Sarge comes back briefly... where Donut informs him that he caused a Paradox, so Sarge goes away to... probably deal with that. This makes Donut concerned that maybe he didn't explain the plan too well... only for Tucker to tell him that he's doing perfectly fine. Donut's touched, though Tucker tells him to quit acting like an angsty bitch, so we can't get too happy feelsy. With that encouragement, Donut jumps to at some point in S7, where he confronts Genkins in The Meta. It is at this point that Donut points out something. Chrovos doesn't give power, she takes it. There is no guarantee whatsoever that she will hold up her end of the bargain with Genkins. Will Genkins really get the ultimate power that he wants? This seems to affect the Trickster God, as he jumps out.

Meanwhile, Wash and Carolina are talking at a cliffside where Carolina again apologizes for her actions in the last season. Wash is still forgiving, even kind of glad that he got to experience a period without brain damage for a little while. Yes my friends, there is still one more paradox that has to be fixed: the last one. The one that began all of this to begin with: Wash being shot. He knows that, in order to save the universe, it has to happen and he seems to have come to terms with it. Carolina is understandably not happy to hear this. She's downright tearful, but in the end, she understands that it has to be. Wash emphasizes that regardless of everything and no matter what happens, he loves Carolina before jumping. Carolina takes a moment to compose herself before she follows.

Back in Chrovos' domain, Genkins returns and Chrovos... she's not unhappy but she's not pleased either. Why? As it turns out not only are no new cracks forming, but all of the previous ones are now disappearing due to the damage being repaired. Only a small amount remains now, and Chrovos wants to know what's going on. Genkins reports about the Shisno being awake, which seems to... make Chrovos throw in the towel. Genkins has utterly failed and since she can't go and do anything herself, it means that soon the paradox will be undone, the Gods will have Genkins pay the price for his betrayal, and the only pleasure that Chrovos will get is it hopefully happening in front of her as she remains prison bound for all of eternity.

Genkins, however, says that he has a plan. He points out how Chrovos used time to bring back Donut and place him somewhere before. If he can do that tot he Reds and Blues, they'll be out of the way and Genkins can cause as many paradoxes as he wants. But he doesn't have the power to do this alone... so he asks Chrovos to give him a portion of her's. Chrovos is reluctant since she doesn't have much left as it is, but Genkins points out that all she has to do once freed is kill and adsorb the Reds and Blues energy, and she'll be restored. Genkins, likely out of desperation, complies and transfers the majority of her remaining power. This causes her to collapse, her armor even changing from black to white. She tells Genkins to hurry... but the Trickster God reveals his true intentions. He's going to go back, put the Reds and Blues out of the way, and weaken the prison... so that he can kill Chrovos and take over with the power that she gave him. Chrovos can only take in her error as Genkins goes back tot he Everwhen.

We cut to Season 15/S16's finale where Wash takes in his final moments before getting shot. He begins to walk forward, the others possessing their Season 16 selves, as Wash tosses aside his own gun and holds his arms out. We hear the sound of a gun go off as the scene cuts to black. But, this is not the end, as when the scene cuts back we see the pullet... frozen. In fact, everyone is frozen. Why? Genkins. He appears and informs the group that he's paused the moment for just a bit as he goes to take care of other matters. The bullet drops to the ground and Genkins bids the Reds and Blues farewell, off now that he has all of the time in the world.

Review

This is definitely better than the previous two episodes. IDK what it was about the last two, but they felt... rather rushed and all over the place. Like they wanted to do some character development stuff, but because they only have so much time they had to condense and squeeze it together and... that really made them a mess compared to the episodes before. But thankfully, this one put us back on track. It was emotional, raised the stakes in a way that I did not see coming, and has one Hell of a monster ending that left me utterly anxious. Compared to 7 and 8, which had good moments but was again very condensed and a Hell of a lot confusing, this one had me hanging on every second.

So... let us return to our nostalgia banking topic. As I said above, it's lazy and a cash-in at this point. Now this being a time travel season, I understand that we'd go back through some nostalgic moments. And again, in all fairness, the fan-service moments with the Freelancers were relevant and actually helped advance the plot without being forced. The Mercs though... while they thankfully didn't overpower the plot, going back to them... honestly had zero relevance in comparison. This is probably just me being salty because I've honestly just gotten sick of the Mercs because of how much they get hyped and such. They... or Fel9ix at least, have completed their roles and I want to move on form them. I want to move on to new stories and plotlines, hence why I want Church and Tex to stay dead too. There's this underlying feeling, to me anyway, that this season is relying on the past to get people into it, not moving forward. Although, last season tried that, and many people hated it, so what do I know?

Speaking of the reception to last year... yeah that is the only reason we have Felix and why we had a focus on Tucker. I feel like this moment was Jason, who wrote the episodes and therefore the Tucker scenes that fans had issues with including the infamous talk with Sister, apologizing for the Tucker 'derailment'. And yes, I put derailment in quotes. I know that some felt like Tucker was OOC in the previous season and to a degree S15. He was egotistical, womanizing, and people felt like it was a regression. There was a LOT of push-back on that, so having Tucker relieve one of his worst moments and have to outright re-create it and realize how much he's messed up as a leader up to now felt nice. It's Tucker not acting in a way that he thinks a leader should, but stepping up and doing what has to be done. It's a nice moment of character development and I really hope that it pleased the Tucker fans.

But... my issue is... I didn't think that Tucker was regressed in the previous seasons. He did step up when he needed to. Maybe not so much in 16, but he absolutely did in 15. He is a womanizing asshole, that part of his character had never been addressed at any point until then and yeah, it was a problem. And it's not like they demonized him, he was supposed to realize how bad he had gotten after Sister's verbal beatdown and when he realized what happened to Wash. Oh, and he has yet to take responsibility for proposing the plan that caused the paradox, to begin with, most of that has been on Carolina which is annoying. Don't get me wrong, it is good to see Tucker realize how he fucked up as a leader and can become better and this was a good moment to have him realize it. But it feels unnecessary to me because his character had been fine and we again have to have a nostalgia moment for it. IDK, it just... annoys me. It's a good moment, but I'm mixed about it for the above reasons.

Okay, let's try and talk positively now. Like Wash and Carolina having a moment Yeah, this was going to come sooner or later. We all knew that for this mess to be fixed, Wash was going to have to be shot. He's come to terms with it, knowing that it has to be for the universe's sake. That doesn't make it any less hard though. Carolina broke time to save Wash. Was it ultimately a bad decision? Yes. But it's understandable why she went that route. She made a mistake, one that she is still apologizing for, and wanted to spare Wash of the pain. Not out of guilt, but because she genuinely sees Wash as family and can't stand him being hurt. Jen Brown's absolutely tearful, heartbroken delivery was so perfectly done. You can feel how hurt Carolina is as she has to accept that her efforts were in vain, and outright made things worst. Wash has to be shot. He has to endure cerebral hypoxia. They can't undo the consequences, they have to live with them.

And you know what? Good. Mind you we still have three episodes to go... but I want Wash to keep the brain damage. Look, it sucks that it happened to him... but in the end, it happened. Brain damage is terrible, but you can keep living with it. Wash is still a strong, capable soldier and he still will be even with cerebral hypoxia. He'll only be broken if he allows himself to be. Will he struggle? Of course. Will he need more help now? That goes without saying. Does that make Wash any less of the character that he was? Hell no. Wash has proven multiple times that he can pull through some terrible shit, including having an AI try to kill itself while inside his head. Wash can, and will, get through this. Now again, we have time still so they could find an alternate solution... but I really, really hope that they stick to Wash being brain damaged. I think that there are plenty of people who can be inspired by him and it can take his character, and everyone else really, into some new directions that could be good. We'll see how it goes, but I do hope that they stick to this.

But of course, if it does happen, we're still going to wait a while. Why? Because Genkins is an asshole. Yeah, I... I did NOT see that moment coming. I guess I should have since Genkins is an absolute shit, but... no, I honestly did not see his betrayal of Chrovos coming. The guy really is the God of Tricks, huh? I almost felt bad for Chrovos... almost. Yeah, she still manipulated and hurt a ton of people with her actions so she's still a bitch who kind of had it coming. But Genkins having her power is far worst since he's just outright chaotic. Who knows what the Hell he's going to do now that he can control all of time and can kill Chrovos himself to have all the power to himself. I do kind of like how this was almost framed as a redemption, what with Donut pointing out the uncertainty of Chovos keeping her word. But nope! Genkins is just as evil, and he essentially killed the queen to take her crown. I hate Genkins with a burning passion... but he is a fantastic villain and I fucking love it.

Final Thoughts

We're three episodes away from the end, and I'm still not sure how this is all going to end. While I am certainly mixed on some of the time travel usage and on Tucker's moment, it was overall well handled. And any misgivings I had about it I can forgive for Wash and Carolina's moment and the Genkins betrayal. It was a great episode filled with emotion and surprise, and I am still coming down from it. Will the final few episodes be able to hold up? We shall see in due time... get it? Time reference? Haha... yeah... yeah, I'll just... end the review now. Tootles!

#rvb #rvb17 #rvb spoilers #rvb reviews #callie reviews

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standbyyourmantis · 5 years

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Fairy Tales & Happy Endings -- Chapter 10, Happily Ever After

Just in case I never get around to writing an epilogue, Belle doesn’t lose the baby this time.

ON AO3

Neal had no idea what the hell he was even doing. After Belle had given him the address, he’d looked it up on his phone and found out that his mother was about seven hours away and he had known that he needed to go see her as soon as he could. Which was so, so stupid because what the hell was he planning to do? Just knock on her door and go hi I’m the son you abandoned when he was five what’s new? but he needed to do it anyway. Hopefully, something would come to him later during the drive down to Long Island.

Emma had declined to come, she said she didn’t want to disrupt Henry with another long car trip so close to going home, and she didn’t want to leave early. Anyway, it was probably for the best if he didn’t turn up with a wife and baby, considering how long it had been since he’d seen her last. If this went well, he could bring them by later. She lived so close – she’d lived so close the whole time.

It was early evening by the time he arrived in the city, and the plan was for him to spend the night and drive down to Long Island the next day, but it was still reasonably early and he couldn’t resist driving down the rest of the way to her house. He’d just drive by, see where she lived, and then he could get a hotel and try to figure out how this was going to go down. He followed the GPS directions onto her street when he suddenly saw her. She was bringing in groceries from her car and he was parking before he even realized what he was doing.

He recognized her. He hadn’t expected to recognize her. God, it had been so long since he’d laid eyes on her that it had never even occurred to him that he’d know what she looked like. Neal watched his mother ferrying groceries into her townhouse from the back of her SUV and it was just so...normal. She was normal.

She disappeared into the townhouse and he felt himself pulled as if by some invisible force to her front door. He was halfway up the path before he fully registered what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself. The only thing he could really focus on was the sound of his pulse in his ears beating out she’s here, she’s here, she’s here.

The door was flanked by two pots of flowers and a faded flower welcome mat was laying at his feet. He barely had time to wonder if he really would be welcome before his hand rung the bell. It was too late now, and he didn’t want to undo it if he could have.

The door swung open, and he got his first good look at his mother in almost twenty-five years. She was older now, of course, with a few streaks of grey in her dark hair and some lines on her face that hadn’t been there before. He couldn’t stop looking at her and trying to drink in every detail.

“Can I help you?” she asked through the screen door, dragging him out of his distraction. He hadn’t planned any of this, and had no idea what to even say to her.

“Are you Milah Cassidy?” he blurted out after a moment.

“I’m Milah Jones,” she replied. “What’s this about?”

“I think you’re my mom.” That was the worst way he could have possibly said that, but she didn’t slam the door right in his face so that was a good sign. Instead, she just stared at him for a moment that felt like an eternity, until suddenly her face split into a broad smile.

“Oh my God, Neal?” She swung the door open and he thought she was about to hug him but then she caught herself, which he appreciated because he wasn’t sure if he was ready for all that yet. Instead, she patted his face softly and then pulled the door open further. “Come in, please. We have so much to catch up on!”

He followed her into the brownstone and took in the furniture and tchotchkes throughout the house, there were lots of boats and beaches – and photographs of his mother and a man in various places of interest.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, moving past him towards what he assumed was the kitchen. “Soda? Water? Wine? I can make sangria?”

“Water is fine, thank you.”

She returned with a pair of glasses and gestured for him to sit on one of the sofas before sitting in a chair next to him and setting the glasses on the coffee table.

He couldn’t even think of what to say. He was sitting next to his mother in her living room trying to figure out how to go over the entire last twenty years of his life, and she was watching him so intently he could hardly stand it. This was all so surreal.

“How did you find me?” she asked at last. “I always hoped you would, I just...my goodness, you’ve grown up.”

“Yeah, I have.” There was so much to say, and no way to say any of it. “Dad gave me your address.”

She made a small oh sound and leaned back in her chair almost cold now that he’d brought his father up, and it was strange how defensive that made Neal all of a sudden. He didn’t want to dwell on it, though. Not yet, not when there was still so much more to say.

“You have a grandson, by the way,” he said quickly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and calling up a few photos of Henry and Emma before handing it to her. “His name is Henry, and that’s his mother, Emma.”

“Oh, he’s so precious! Goodness, he looks just like you when you were that age. It’s like looking into a time machine.” She handed the phone back. “It’s just so strange to think of you being old enough to have a baby.”

Because I haven’t seen you since I was five. The thought slapped him hard and he was surprised with the sharpness of it. He’d never been so aware of being angry at her until right at that moment. It was such a complicated series of emotions simultaneously being so happy at her being there and so, so angry that she’d not been there before.

“So how have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I got remarried, of course.” She reached over and picked up a framed photo off the table that she handed to him showing her and a dark haired man sitting on a boat and smiling. “That’s my Killian. He travels for work and I go with him sometimes, so we’ve been all over. Egypt, Vietnam, Paris, Melbourne, Peru…I wish he was here for you to meet him, but he’s in DC this week.”

Neal looked around the room at the photographs and souvenirs strewn about from the last twenty-odd years. She’d been traveling his whole life, from the looks of things almost ever since she left him. She’d left him so she could travel, he realized. His mother had gone off to adventure, and that’s why she’d been absent because he hadn’t fit in with that. He felt the anger he’d always felt his whole life building up inside of him and for a moment he thought he might scream but all of a sudden it rose up through his chest and he felt the heat move up his face and then it evaporated.

His mother had needed something else, and had gone off to find it. And she was happy with that decision, he was never going to get what he wanted from her. They would probably exchange text messages a few times a year after this, but they’d never be close again (if they’d ever been close in the past). That bridge had been burned, and there was no way to recover the time they’d lost. His father had done his best, and had stayed with him through everything. He’d made mistakes, but he had been there the whole time. Neal had been holding onto this hope that the past could be better if he just wished for it hard enough, and all at once he was realizing that she was never going to be the mother he had imagined, and his father had never even been the one he was angry at in the first place, just the most convenient target.

The revelation was freeing, and for a second Neal thought he might float away now that the weight of all that anger had been lifted off of his shoulders. It was time to finally move on.

The drive back to Storybrooke the next morning was long, but it gave him time enough to try to settle his thoughts. The rest of the visit with his mother had gone well, or at least as well as he could have expected. They’d talked for a few more hours and gotten dinner, and then exchanged contact information with a vague promise to do this again sometime and that had been that. He’d gone back to his hotel and called Emma to say he would be coming back the next morning and tried really hard not to be disappointed.

Maybe it had been foolish to put so much of his hopes into this meeting, but it had been close to a need for so many years now. Ever since he’d been a child he’d just had a feeling that this would explain everything if he could just see his mother again, but he realized now that it had been naive of him, a child’s perception of a complicated situation. His mother had left him, and that was a knowledge he was going to have to live with now. She may or may not have ‘wanted’ him in some sense of the word, but she clearly had things that she had wanted more. It had always been something he’d halfway suspected but never really put voice to, that he had been unwanted by his mother.

Strangely, he didn’t feel angry at her. He probably should, since he’d spent so long being angry at his father about it, but with his mother he was having a much easier time not caring. The paradox of it all bothered him, and it took most of the drive back to realize the difference: he didn’t trust his mother, he hadn’t trusted her in decades so the betrayal hadn’t hurt the way the lies from his father had. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, his father had been the one constant in his life and so the slow realization that all of his stories were, in fact, stories had set the stage for the resentment. And he still had the resentment, he was still angry but now he also understood and that went a long way to forgiveness.

His father’s house came into view at last, and he could see Henry and Emma playing in the yard. His dad was on the porch watching, and it just all seemed right. As much as he hadn’t wanted to come back here to begin with, it all felt like home now. His wife and son were waiting for him when he parked the car, and all he could do was immediately grab up Henry and hold his son tight. He wasn’t going to be like his mother, he was going to see his son grow up. No matter what else happened, Henry was going to be loved.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Emma said from nearby. She sounded worried, but there wasn’t anything to worry about anymore. He was home.

“It went fine, I’ll tell you all about it later.” He just needed to hug his son for right now.

After a few minutes, Henry started wriggling and Neal released him onto the grass, where he promptly started walking around again, occasionally bending over to pick a blade of grass. Neal glanced back towards the house and saw his father still there, still watching. He let his feet carry him back to the house and up the steps, and before he could even be asked about his trip he wrapped his arms around his father and hugged him. There was a split second before his father reacted, but then they were hugging each other for the first time in a long time. It was catharsis, and there was only one thing that Neal could even think to say.

“Thank you.”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #mantis fic #Fairy Tales and Happy Endings

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