#what are the logical acrobatics happening here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

th3-c0rps3-r0gu3 · 2 months

Text

Snow White.

Pairing: Natasha X winter powered fem reader (eventually)

Warnings: mentions of abuse and divorce, angst, Natasha being mean (she fixes it don't worry)

A/n: y/n is albino in this please don't come at me. Also felt like writing some small hurt to comfort so here lol. Also this was written all in one go at some point during midnight so don't judge me.

When y/n joined the Avengers Natasha hated her. She hated her silvery white hair, red eyes and ghostly skin. In Natasha's opinion the woman needed to gain some colour. And yes Natasha wasn't much better at least she wasn't basically a ghost!

It wasn't just that either. Her whole personality annoyed Natasha. She was too friendly, trusting, kind and definitely way too much of a sweetheart for her own good. Natasha thought that if y/n had to even think about causing another harm she would combust into tears! This was obviously not a good career choice on her part.

But nevertheless Natasha had to put up, mind you begrudgingly, with y/n and her overly kind personality.

When y/n joined the Avengers she was nervous. One because of how she looked, being mocked all her life for it hadn't helped her self esteem, combined with the fact her favourite of the group despised her.

Y/n had always liked Natasha but when the red headed Russian first saw y/n she had sneered, leaving a bruise on y/n's heart. Natasha had been y/n's favourite of the Avengers ever since she first saw her.

It had been in the bustling streets of New York when Natasha had been swarmed around by paparazzi, at that time y/n had no interest in the Avengers, when y/n saw Natasha. Immediately swept off her feet by the confidence Natasha carried as she manoeuvred around the cameras and ignoring the sensitive questions they had y/n knew from that moment she liked Natasha.

But now whenever y/n would enter a room with Natasha the assassin would scowl or make snide comments about her pale appearance. And Tony deeming her snow white didn't help. And unfortunately the nickname had stuck.

"y/n how come you've never just dyed your hair or something, I mean at least try and fit in."

Natasha scowled as she passed the albino woman as she played cards with Wanda who shit Natasha a disapproving look that she missed completely. What Natasha didn't miss was the way y/n flinched and looked down at her hand of cards. Natasha frowned but shrugged off the slight feeling of guilt.

"I did try... It doesn't work.. my powers effect my appearance making dyes and any form of hair colouring fade almost immediately.."

Y/n tries to explain simply with her typically soft voice. Natasha ignored the slight sadness that she heard in the ever so gentle tone y/n always used. Instead the red head rolled her eyes.

"then wear a wig"

Nat snapped walking out. Forcing herself not to look back as she felt a sting in her heart. Why was this happening. She never felt guilty before about this.

After that Natasha grew frustrated. Every time she threw a mean or mocking comment y/n's way and she saw how y/n would wince or look down she felt guilty. She didn't even need to see it anymore. Just knowing that was y/n's reaction made Natasha's heart flinch too. So instead of doing the logical thing the Russian instead got nastier and simply insulted snow white even further.

"look here's snow white!"

Exclaimed Tony as y/n entered the room. Y/n simply shook her head and smiled, now used to the nickname. Natasha tried to shake the small flip her heart did when she saw that smile. First feeling guilty about the insults and now whenever Nat saw y/n her chest did acrobatics? She needed to see a doctor.

From where y/n sat with her book she could see Natasha reloading her guns. Y/n had known and accepted her crush on the Russian assassin a while ago. Though she knew not to approach Natasha about it. She had realised that she had taken a liking to Natasha when she walked into the kitchen to find Natasha leaning against the counter in her pajamas. Her heart had fluttered and for the first time ever her face donned a bright red colour. Though thankfully y/n had slipped away before Natasha noticed her.

But for now y/n could accept admiring Natasha from afar and simply hoping she either found another or her feelings faded, for y/n knew that her feelings would never be reciprocated. So as Natasha reloaded her guns and y/n read her book the two sat in silence together for the first time in their lives.

Natasha could see y/n reading in the corner of her eye. At first she had intended to send an insult to the winter woman's way but after she had glanced over and seen how peaceful and relaxed y/n looked she couldn't bring herself to say a harmful word to her. Natasha couldn't ignore the way her heartbeat sped up whenever y/n entered a room or smiled or even just existed.

Natasha had gone to Bruce about the situation and the only answer he had come up with was that Natasha was in love. But how could she be? She despised y/n. Her kind, loyal, sweet personality had initially irritated Natasha but now she found it endearing. And Nat couldn't figure out why. She couldn't figure out why whenever she saw even just a glimpse of silvery white hair her insides did a summersault and her heart rate increased to the point she thought she might die. So the only conclusion Natasha could hope for was that if she was cruel enough these unwanted feelings for y/n would go.

It had been two weeks since Natasha had realised she had feelings for y/n. And in that time the assassin bullied the albino woman to the brink of tears, ignoring how much her heart screamed at her to stop and to say sorry.

For the last two weeks Natasha's insults and jabs had grown progressively worse and y/n couldn't figure out why. What had she done? It stung a lot hearing every nasty word leave Natasha's mouth. It got to the point where y/n would end up leaving a few moments after Natasha entered to avoid crying in front of the other Avengers.

"y'know y/n your way too sensitive. Perhaps all that snow got in your head and ruined any sense of rationality."

Natasha scowled entering the training room where y/n was being helped by Wanda with her powers. Snow layered over the floor. Natasha ignored the hurt she felt in her chest when y/n looked down and clasped her hands together.

"there's no snow in my head Natasha please your words hurt.."

Y/n spoke quietly looking up at Natasha's face and meeting her eyes. Natasha ignored the shame she felt as she saw tears glistening in y/n's eyes.

"yeah well suck it up. Most of us have had much harder lives that have to put up with a few comments."

The assassin snapped staring y/n down in the eyes, crossing her arms as she did so. That's when she noticed something appear in y/n, her body stiffness and she showed... Anger? No way y/n never list her temper.

"I have too! You have no idea what I've had to put up with!"

Y/n said a bit louder than normal. Natasha was tempted to stop. Actually Natashas was tempted to simply apologise for over and walk over and embrace the albino woman but she held back, she was meant to hate y/n.

"oh yeah? Like what?"

Natasha provoked. She didn't miss the anger this time. Wanda at this point had gone and grabbed the others as she had sensed a fight coming. So with an audience y/n was about to put on a show.

"oh I don't know perhaps having your parents divorce because of how you look! Having your father claim your mother cheated! Being blamed for the divorce that ensues after your birth! Being brutally abused by your father physically, mentally and emotionally! Being outcasted and called a freak for your looks and powers!"

Y/n yelled. Snow and ice swirling around the room as the calmest and sweetest avenger got angry and lost her temper. But Natasha ignited the snow, she ignored the shocked faces of her friends in the background. All Natasha could focus on was how bad she felt about what she had been doing. Y/n had endured so much suffering from what many now consider a gift. And her comments probably only made the situation worse. Natasha was about to walk over and apologise but y/n stopped the snow storm and then pushed past Natasha to get away, tears frozen in her face.

Natasha spent about half an hour searching for y/n. She found her in the gardens. Snow covering every surface. It looked like a winter wonderland. And in the middle of the rose gardens where all the white and red roses grew sat y/n. Silvery white hair down around her ghostly pale shoulders. Red eyes slightly puffy with frozen tears running down her face. And while the situation was fire Natasha couldn't help but think that y/n looked like a goddess in that moment.

"if you've come to mock me more then please leave."

Y/n spoke up softly not looking up as she opened her palm and let snow fall over it, looking like a miniature snowfall. Natasha softened and walked over, sitting down next to y/n, who closed her palm and stopped the snow.

"I'm here to say sorry."

Natasha said quietly, taking y/n's closed fist into her own cold hands. Y/n looked up slightly shocked. But all Natasha could think of how beautiful the white woman was. A true winter goddess.

"wha-"

Y/n started only to get cut off when Natasha kissed her. Natasha hadn't been able to help herself. Y/n looked so pretty and Nat felt if she kept denying her feelings she might explode. So while y/n was distracted she kissed her. Sudden worry and fear filled Natasha though as she realised that y/n may not like her back. That was until y/n kissed Natasha back.

While admittedly y/n had been shocked when Natasha kissed her she also felt extremely happy and her heart picked up in pace. And sensing Natasha's then fear she kissed her back.

The two broke apart and Natasha looked at y/n simply admiring the woman she felt she couldn't admire before. Tucking a stray white lock from her face. Y/n smiled and leaned against Natasha's shoulder holding out her palm again and letting the snow fall commence once more.

After this the comments and jabs continued. Only now they ended in a compliment and a kiss between the two.

Natasha hated the new Avenger and never even considered the thought of liking her, and the new Avenger liked Natasha but never even thought that she would even like her back, but in the end both women loved each other and that's all that mattered to them.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #black widow #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #wanda maximoff #tony stark

121 notes · View notes

welcometothejianghu · 3 months

Text

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 心宅猎人/Psych-Hunter.

Psych-Hunter is a 2020 drama about a hot young amnesiac who, accompanied by a rich psychiatrist with major daddy issues and a rich girl who cosplays as a cop, uses his Inception-style psychic powers to solve crimes that are part of a shadowy conspiracy orchestrated by a mysterious figure.

True story: Once I couldn't remember the English name of the drama, so I called it "House Haunters," and now my brain insists that's the real English title. If only!

Do not, under any circumstances, labor under the impression that this show is good. It's not. It's incoherent. The writing is bad. The villain is absurd. The vibe is comically melodramatic. People make inexplicable and out-of-character decisions all the time. Countless complex mysteries get set up with no way to resolve them. There's a thin lampshade hanging over it that blurs the line between bad decisions made on accident and bad decisions made on purpose, but the net result is largely the same. This is the show that first inspired my wife to declare something dumb as a guinea pig in a roller skate.

But it's fun. It's a sea of colorful chaos with brilliant pieces that shine through like strange gems. It knows how to work an atmosphere and does so to create some legitimately creepy moments. It spins a wild yarn filled with bizarre and loveable characters. And it has some twists that truly have to be seen to be believed. In the mood for some beautiful nonsense? Here's five reasons that despite everything I warned you about in the previous paragraph, I think this one's worth watching.

1. Psychonauts for Jazz Age homosexuals

Honestly, that phrase alone should let you know if this is the thing for you. But just in case, let me explain the basic premise of the show:

Jiang Shuo, a man who has lost his memory and been adopted by circus folk, is capable of jingling his keys and diving full-body into someone else's subconscious, represented by lovely and thematic dreamscapes. He does this to solve crimes. Sometimes he takes along a handsome doctor who seems like he might know more than he's letting on, by literally tying their hands together with a red string.

Also, when they do this, they get gorgeous steampunk magical girl costume changes, complete with the cutest little pony nub you've ever seen.

This show can be stunningly beautiful. It knows how to manifest dream logic eerily well. Most of these cognitions are gorgeous, and many are done with primarily practical effects, like it's a stage play. ...And it's good it relies on that so much, because the CG it has is kinda cheap and terrible! So, yeah.

(Side note for the DMBJ fans: This is directed by the same guy who directed Sand Sea, which I assume is related to how this both is a visual treat and completely falls apart on the back end.)

The reason I'm a bit surprised that this hasn't taken off more among the creative set is what a great piece of worldbuilding this Psych-diving is. These boys (and, once, the girl) get to short-term manifest bodily in someone else's materialized mental state, where the person whose brain they’re in neither controls the experience nor remembers what happened after it’s done. Were you writing weird Arthur/Eames fic a decade ago? I got a new best thing for you. Can you say freaky dream sex? Because I can.

The base premise should be more than enough to get your gears going. Come ready to get weird with it. There's so much potential here, and so much of that potential is incredibly gay and wearing impeccably tailored suits.

2. Your friendly neighborhood circus family

As I mentioned before, Jiang Shuo lucks into the best possible fate that can befall an amnesiac: being picked up by carnies.

The troupe includes Ventriloquist Man, Really Big Dude, One-Eyed Acrobat, Other Acrobat, Cheerful Fat Girl, Boy Who Looks Like A Kid But Is Actually Played By An Adult So I'm Not Exactly Sure How Old The Character Himself Is Supposed To Be, and Silver Fox Circus Dad, who manages the whole crew. They're a ragtag bunch of performers who all live together in this cute little compound in some very nice slums, and sometimes they open the gates to their lavish compound and put on a circus show for all the common people!

Now: You know this is not going to be the wokest, most sensitive portrayal of body differences, because of course it isn't. But damn, it's pretty not-bad. The show treats all the circus members as valuable people worthy of affection, whose (occasionally exasperating) quirks are no more or less exhausting than those of the non-circus weirdos in the rest of the supporting cast.

I was half-expecting them to disappear after the first arc, but no! They’re a constant fixture through the show! They’re mostly there to support the show’s more comedic moments, but some of them get wrapped up in more emotional plotlines as well. And every now and then you get to see them actually do their circus shit, which is great.

I will admit that my fondness for them is related to how much I generally love fictional Freaks — you know, misfits who have banded together because society considers them unacceptably weird, but together their weirdnesses make them strong. When you find them, they’re usually the bad guys (e.g., the Gung-Ho Guns from Trigun, the Scorpion crew from Word of Honor) whose freak statuses make them formidable and occasionally sympathetic antagonists. But not so here! The Psych-Hunter Family Circus is good guy support all the way through to the final episode.

I know "found family" is a term that suffers from overuse, but that's the best way to describe what's happening here -- really, it's a family that's already found itself even before the show starts, and now they all live together as an unconventional collective of astonishingly flexible people. How did they find one another? Doesn't matter! What matters is that they all love and would do anything for their newest member, and they think it's great when he comes home with his attractive rich friends, who often arrive bringing snacks, which is really the best use for rich people, if you think about it.

3. Two hands, one ring

Now, if you've seen the series already, you know the moment I'm talking about. But if you haven't (and, statistically, you haven't), know that what I mean is the relationship between these two losers.

Together, Qin Yiheng and Jiang Shuo form the emotional core of the series. They're both drawn to one another because of mysterious circumstances that have started to align. Jiang Shuo's memory is missing, Qin Yiheng's dad has vanished, and all signs point to those absences as having something to do with one another.

Very early in the show, we see Qin Yiheng pull a "come with me if you want to live" on Jiang Shuo, giving the impression that he knows just what's going on in this crazy city. Except, no, he doesn't. Or does he? No, we're pretty sure he doesn't. Or he does, but he's forgotten what he knows, if he ever even knew it in the first place. Anyway, time to tie their hands together and jump into someone else's brain!

I'd say they're in love, but that's not quite it. Dr. Qin Yiheng, high-class homosexual, is in love with Jiang Shuo to the point where he's about to murder someone (possibly Jiang Shuo himself) out of frustration about it. Jiang Shuo, on the other hand, is much more sticking his fingers in his ears and going LA LA LA YOU CAN'T CATCH ME GAY THOUGHTS while trying get a girlfriend in an effort to pretend that all the shit they get up to together isn't tremendously romantic.

That is, until the scene that leads to the which-hand ring guessing game, at which point the burden of their relationship falls on Jiang Shuo (and the Inception parallels get unignorable) for exactly as long as the show will allow it to, before it freaks out and has to add another girl love interest just to make sure all the homos got no'd.

It's not textually gay, because seriously, have you met Chinese television? But it's pretty gay. Or, rather, I think Liu Dongqin (Qin Yiheng) is playing his character as a dedicated homosexual on purpose, and Hou Minghao (Jiang Shuo) is just ... kinda like that? I mean, everything I’ve seen him in, he gets real dreamy-eyed around strong men who pay close attention to him. Maybe it's just his thing as an actor. I'm not judging.

However, the main cast isn't just the two of them. One of the things that led me to this show was the promise of an OT3. And does it deliver on that promise?

Well ... sorta.

Qin Yiheng, Jiang Shuo, and Yuan Muqing are a pretty standard MFM not-love-triangle trio of Male Bestie, Main Guy, and Girlfriend (respectively). There's about five seconds at the beginning of the series where it looks like Yuan Muqing might be into Qin Yiheng, but no, that evaporates almost instantly and is never spoken of again -- and with it disappears most of their interactions with one another, period. So it's less an OT3, and more a case of bisexual cutiepie Jiang Shuo getting both a boyfriend and a girlfriend in a world where censorship will only let the latter relationship exist textually.

But damn if these boys aren't made for one another. Sure, there's a level of conscious comical queerbaiting to it -- I mean, there's straight-up an "only one bed" moment, so you know the show isn't stumbling into rainbow territory on accident. No matter how sexual or nonsexual or whatever you read it as, though, their dynamic is the spine that holds the story together. Really, it's almost sad how often the relationships are set parallel to one another, because when you do that, it becomes obvious how intense Jiang Shuo's bond with Qin Yiheng is, and how largely lackluster and comphet most of his canon romance with Yuan Muqing is by comparison.

Like so.

sidebar: The Girl

I am not going to go into a full-throated defense of The Girl this time, as I am wont to do, mostly because I think Yuan Muqing is full of potential in concept but so badly executed that there's really no hope for her. Her entire personality is whatever they need her to be in any particular scene. It's just that once in a while, what they need her to be is completely insane -- like, seeing-things-that-aren't-there insane -- and it's so great that it makes me mad! She could have been like this all the time! But noooooo

As it is, she has a perfunctory canonical romance with Jiang Shuo that's about as endgame as anything is capable of being (see point 5), and it actually gets pretty cute when it finally gets to the point where it's not just awkward obligation! But alas, it only does that so late in the series that it's not even worth it getting invested in it.

She is a creation of the show. She has no novel counterpart. Her entire function in the drama is to un-gay the dynamic between the boys. You can tell that she was initially supposed to have a different role -- to be the muscle of this trio -- but the narrative forgets pretty quickly that she's got that skill set, and she regresses to being The Girl. She makes dumb decisions that forward the plot. She gets put into danger whenever it's convenient. She demands Jiang Shuo do manly things for her because that’s what a girl is supposed to do, I guess? And then there are moments where she’s cool and crazy and it’s awesome! But they never last.

So if you are going to watch this, be prepared for the fact that the female lead is badly written to the point of frustration. I feel her actor is doing the absolutely best with what she's got; the problem is that what she's got is pretty crappy. Still, Muqing gets some pretty charming moments here and there, and I think it's worth hanging onto those and imagining the character she could have been, if the writers had cared just a little more, or even at all.

4. Powerfully surreal worldbuilding

I'm not even talking about the way people's psyches are structured according to dream logic -- the "normal" waking world is almost equally bizarre. The story takes place in sort of the real world c. 1930, except that a lot of things are off. For example, Japan and England are real locations, but China kinda isn't -- instead, the show takes place in a Shanghai-like city-state run by this moustachioed generalissimo with a faux Latin American dictator aesthetic. The place has its own flag and government and police force (where all the cops have coordinating surnames) and diplomatic relationships with other countries, so it’s clearly its own thing. But what that thing is? What it’s even called? Look, don’t worry about it. Nobody else is worried, so you shouldn’t be either.

You will, at every point in the series, be wondering if the show is trying to telegraph to you that Something's Not Quite Right Here, or if it's just making weird decisions for the sake of artsy weirdness. But don't worry -- there's absolutely no way to tell the difference between the two! Just roll with it.

There's a weird mix of universe rules happening throughout, where everything is mostly period-appropriate for a while, and then somebody builds a clock with levitating parts, or causes someone else to have very specific memory loss — or, again, swings some coins in front of a person’s face and gains the ability to treat their subconscious like a VR amusement park.

You can sort of reconstruct the evolution of this weirdness: The book has actual factual ghosts in it. Well, that’s fine for books, but TV isn’t allowed to have ghosts. But TV can have people who imagine ghosts, so long as it’s all in their heads. Okay, but you know jumping bodily into those imaginations isn’t actually a thing real people can do, right? Well, then let’s make it scientific. How can that be scientific? I don't know, it’s psychiatry. I don’t think that’s psychiatry. Look, it could be. Well, it’s definitely not psychiatry in 1930s Shanghai, and that’s the set we’re allowed to film on. Okay, what if it weren’t actually Shanghai? What if it weren’t actually 1930? What if all of this were at best a weird approximation of the period that adheres to no rules except the ones we want?

Once you’ve thought that, the sky’s the limit.

The show has a very inconsistent grasp on reality, and I am listing that as a pro instead of a con because I am choosing to embrace it as a deliberate choice rather than assume it’s the result of craven incompetence. There's something to be said, though, for how pervasively inconsistent it is. It'd be one thing if there were just a few plot holes here and there (and there are), but this is more along the lines of: We woke up in a mysterious boat and got taken to an island with a giant sea monster skeleton on the shore! What's that all about? Couldn't say! Was it real? Maybe! Moving on!

Let the number of "it's fine! who knows!" comments I've made throughout this rec indicate how much this is the kind of show you just have to roll with. If you are a nitpicker or someone who is troubled by unexplained nonsense, this is not the thing for you. If you love artistic magical realism and high strangeness, you will eat this up with a spoon.

And the lampshade that hangs over all of this worldbuilding is...

5. THE STUPIDEST POSSIBLE ENDING EVER

Okay, usually I am coy about when I think an ending has problems. I am going to drag this one out front and center: Psych-Hunter has an ending so jaw-droppingly, head-clutchingly stupid that I'm actually listing it as a selling point, because it has to be seen to be believed.

When I first watched it, I suspected the show ran out of time or money or something and just had to slap together the quickest possible ending ever. But no! This is the ending they meant! If you go back to the rest of the series, you can see that this is what they were (kinda) setting up the whole time! They just set it up so poorly and decided to make the twist hit at such a late point that not only is it complete nonsense, it actually renders moot the entire emotional stakes of the show! Absolutely incredible!

Now, as I've said before in other places, I don't begrudge the actual twist itself. I mean, it's stupid on its face, but I think they could have done something with it — if they'd had it happen halfway through the series, when the characters would have had time to adjust to the new knowledge. Instead, they slap it on at the last possible moment, when there's no time to have any reaction to it. It's just jarring and baffling, and then the whole thing's over.

I've seen lots of people say "season 2 when???" Season 2 never, friends. There was never going to be a season 2. The only reason you think this was an even remotely acceptable narrative move was that you were assuming that this would be the midpoint, not the end. You're having the same reaction I did, only I can tell this was always meant to be their spectacular dismount.

(To me, it's clear what happened: They J.J. Abramsed themselves into a cool premise for a mystery with no idea how to solve it, hoping they'd figure it out along the way. When they got to the end and still hadn't figured it out, they simply ... opted out of solving it.)

Now, if you want a normal viewing experience out of this show, watch to the end of the next-to-last episode, close your browser window, and have imagination adventures about how you think all the mysteries should resolve. But you're not going to. You are going to continue on to that last episode, and you are going to realize that nothing I could have said here could possibly have prepared you for this. And somewhere, I am going to feel the urge to cackle wickedly and not even know why. Except I'll know why. We'll both know why.

Want to watch this hot mess?

That baby's an iQiyi exclusive! But you can watch the first episode on YouTube, if you feel like getting a taste that way.

Look, I know I may have spoiled my pitch somewhat with that last selling point. After all, why would you bother watching a series if you know it has a shit ending?

I refute your objection thus: Knowing it has a shit ending changes the whole game, because it removes the feeling of betrayal that hits upon your discovering that the ending isn’t what you wanted. You know that already now, so there can be no betrayal. The ending goes from being an unpleasant surprise to being exactly the unexpected thing that you expected. With that in mind, you can dive right in (ha ha) knowing that you’ll never get the closure you crave, and therefore whatever you make up along the way is perfectly valid.

This is obviously a turnoff if you prefer shows that are like seeing someone start a magic trick, perform it without breaking a sweat, and walk off calmly, leaving you wondering how on earth they accomplished such an amazing thing. Think of this more as someone starting a magic trick, accidentally letting the rabbit fall out of their hat, saying “I meant to do that!” like thirty times, and suddenly vanishing through a trapdoor, leaving you wondering what the trick was even supposed to be in the first place — but they were really good-looking and well-dressed, so at least whatever they were doing was nice to look at while it was happening.

See? They're having fun.

#psych-hunter #心宅猎人 #house haunters #i made this #rec post #please watch this and then write more fic for it #I have a very selfish agenda here

31 notes · View notes

anonymousewrites · 2 years

Text

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Acrobatic Circus

At Scotland Yard (John had insisted on calling them as soon as possible), Sherlock had forced his way into Dimmock’s office. The detective was trying to ignore them, but Sherlock was determined to have him acknowledge that there was an assassin on the loose.

“How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac’s out there, Dimmock?” hissed Sherlock. He was still in a bad mood over loosing his latest lead and (Y/N) almost getting shot.

Dimmock continued rummaging in his drawers for “paperwork” (translation: continued ignoring them). John, who was tired and annoyed, finally lost his temper. “A young girl was gunned down tonight. That’s three victims in three days. You’re supposed to be finding him!”

“Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon worked for a smuggling ring called the Black Lotus that’s right here in London, working under your nose,” said (Y/N), finishing their lollipop with a sharp “snap” of the sugar. It punctuated their annoyance with Dimmock’s obstinance.

“Can you prove it?” challenged Dimmock, thinking (Y/N), who admittedly had anxiety with adults due to their time at a children’s home, would back down.

He was wrong. In matters of logic and intelligence, they were forward, blunt, confident, every positive and negative word of that strain applied to them, but they were not nervous.

“Yes,” said (Y/N).

Dimmock, taken aback, straightened quickly. “Fine, then. Show me your proof.”

(Y/N) looked at Sherlock, who was looking at Dimmock with smug satisfaction, and said, “Call Molly. I need to compare Van Coon, Lukis, and Soo Lin Yao’s bodies.”

At the morgue, the three bodies were laid out on examination tables. Molly shyly offered to open the body bags, but (Y/N) shook their head. They wanted to do this, mostly to stick it to Dimmock who didn’t believe them and thought they were too young for all of this.

They calmly unzipped the feet of the bags. Dimmock’s eyes widened as the identical black lotus tattoos on each gang members’ heels.

“Either they just ‘happened’ to go to the same Chinese tattoo parlor or we’re right,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms as they returned to Sherlock’s side.

Sighing in resignation, Dimmock looked at the consulting detective and apprentice. “What do you want?”

“I want every book from Lukis’s apartment and Van Coon’s,” said Sherlock.

We need to compare what books they have in common. It is probably something that anyone could own so it doesn’t bring attention or suspicion, thought (Y/N). If we can figure out which one it is, we can figure out the code. Since it’s books, it’s probably a combination of lines, chapter, and/or pages, but if it’s a book with an appendix or references, it might have to do with that…I guess we’ll see.

“Their books?” frowned Dimmock.

“Their books,” reiterated Sherlock.

(Y/N) lay down on their couch as John sat in his armchair and Sherlock paced. They were awaiting the arrival of Van Coon and Lukis’s books. Sherlock handed (Y/N) a bowl of grapes Mrs. Hudson had left in their flat while he walked back and forth.

“Not just a criminal organization; it’s a cult,” murmured Sherlock. “Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders.”

“Soo Lin said the name,” reminded Sherlock.

“ ‘General Shan,’ “ said (Y/N), popping a grape into their mouth as they got a look from Sherlock that translated to “eat or there will be problems.”

“We’re still no close to finding them,” said John.

“Wrong,” said (Y/N). “Soo Lin gave us most of the missing pieces.”

“We know vaguely what was stolen,” said Sherlock, nodding. “Soo Lin was an expert in valuable antiques. That’s why Zhi Zhu came to her for help.”

(Y/N) nodded. “China is home to treasures from Mao’s revolution which can be sold on the black market.”

Sherlock searched for auctions on John’s computer with the focus on Chinese and other Asian works of art. “Check for the dates…Here. Arrived from China four days ago. Anonymous. Vendor doesn’t give a name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East.”

“One in Lukis’s suitcase, the other in Van Coon’s,” identified (Y/N).

“A month before—Chinese ceramic statue, sold for four hundred thousand,” said Sherlock.

John flipped through Lukis’s diary. “He had a trip during that time.” He flipped back.

“Van Coon traveled during that time, too,” said (Y/N), remembering the planner.

“Chinese painting sold at half a million then as well,” confirmed Sherlock. “All of them from an anonymous source. They’re stealing them back in China, and one-by-one feeding them into Britain. In fact, almost every auction coincides with their trips.”

(Y/N) nodded. “There are probably a few more operatives, but the majority is from them since they have a good cover to travel so often.”

“And then one of them stole something,” said Sherlock. “And Zhi Zhu came.”

“And the killings began,” murmured (Y/N).

In the silence following their deductions, Mrs. Hudson knocked on their door and came in. “Are we collecting for charity? A young man’s outside with crates of books.”

(Y/N) sighed and put their almost-finished grapes down. “Time to get to work.”

“John and I will start, finish your food,” said Sherlock.

(Y/N) huffed. “I want to help.”

“Eat first,” ordered Sherlock, shoving the food back into their hands. “You can’t forget about your health.”

“You do! You completely disregard all the time,” argued (Y/N).

“Yeah, and he’s an idiot because of it,” said John. “Eat.”

Sherlock scowled, offended, but for the sake of getting (Y/N) to take care of themselves, he swallowed his retort to John.

(Y/N) opened their eyes to find it was afternoon of the next day. After Sherlock and John had gotten to work, (Y/N) finished their food but, lulled by the calm, repetitive sounds around them, drifted off to sleep. Sherlock had let them rest through the remaining hours of the night, the next day’s morning, and into the afternoon.

“How’re we doing?” asked (Y/N), yawning.

“Three possible books, so far,” said Sherlock.

(Y/N) nodded. “And we’ve still got more to do.”

“I need some air, first. We’re going out tonight,” said Sherlock.

Sherlock doesn’t just “go out.” Their eyes brightened. The flyer he took was for a Chinese circus. It was near the first bit of graffiti Raz found, and acrobats will be there. Perfect cover. “Alright.”

“Actually, I’ve, er, got a date,” said John, smiling.

“Really?” asked (Y/N), not meaning to sound so incredulous.

“Yeah, Sarah, I met her at surgery,” he said.

Sherlock, now sulking, said, “Where are you taking her?”

“The cinema,” replied John.

“Oh, dull, boring, predictable,” said Sherlock. He pulled out the flyer and handed it to John.

Poor John. Doesn’t even realize he’s walking right into what Sherlock wants, thought (Y/N).

“Why don’t you try this?” asked Sherlock. “In London for one night only. The ‘Yellow Dragon Circus.’ I’ll reserve tickets for you and Sarah.”

John, surprised at Sherlock’s kindness (poor, poor John), blinked. “Ok, I’ll try it.”

(Y/N), behind John, grinned and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who smirked back. They were off to the circus, too, it would seem.

Well, at least the investigation won’t be boring, thought (Y/N). But I’ll have to be around so many people…The things I do to solve cases.

(Y/N) and Sherlock walked up to the circus ticket booth just as the operator said, “Actually, I have four tickets in the name of Sherlock Holmes.”

John frowned. “No, I don’t think so. We only booked two.”

“And then I phoned back and got one for me and (Y/N),” said Sherlock cheerfully. Turning around in disbelief, John glared at the pair.

“Hello,” said (Y/N), raising their hand to Sarah. “We’re just here to see the show.”

“Ah…right,” said Sarah uncertainly. She glanced awkwardly at John, who was taking a deep breath to curb his annoyance at Sherlock.

Leaving them to their awkwardness, Sherlock and (Y/N) walked into the performance room. A large curtain hung with a circle of candles beyond it. With no chairs, everyone gathered by the stage. John and Sarah joined the crowd.

“You said circus. This is not a circus. This is…” John grimaced in distaste.

“Well, it’s not their day job,” pointed out (Y/N).

John, understanding where Sherlock had tricked him and Sarah into going, groaned. “No, sorry, I forgot. They’re not a circus; they’re a gang of international smugglers,” he muttered as the performance began.

A woman in traditional Chinese clothing entered the circle of candles and raised a hand, silencing the crowd. Approaching an object covered in a white cloth, she pulled the draping away and exposed an old-fashioned crossbow. She picked up a thick wooden arrow with a dangerously sharp iron tip and placed it in the crossbow. On the small plate that, when pushed down, would release the arrow, the woman placed a small feather. Even that slight pressure sent to arrow flying into a wooden board.

(Y/N) applauded along with the rest of the crowd at the demonstration of old Chinese weaponry. A man joined the ringmaster in the circle, and he wore chainmail and an ornate mask. Two other circus workers came out and wrapped him in chains so he was trapped against the wooden board.

“Classic Chinese escapology act,” observed Sherlock quietly. (Y/N) glanced at him to go on. “The crossbow’s delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires.”

The woman placed another arrow in the crossbow as cymbals crashed. She then tied a sandbag attached to a weight above the trigger plate and produced a knife.

Sherlock put a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder and pointed with the other. “She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out. Gradually, the weight will lower into the bowl.”

(Y/N) watched in fascination as the warrior struggler and weight inched closer to the plate. At the moment it touched down, the warrior dove to the side, free, as the arrow embedded itself in the wood. (Y/N) clapped politely as everyone else gasped and applauded until Sherlock used the hand on their shoulder to steer them away.

Understanding what he was up to, they followed him backstage as an acrobatic performance began. Clothes were draped on various chairs and hung on racks, but beside those and some props, there was nothing. Footsteps sounded, and (Y/N) and Sherlock dove behind an old-fashioned barrier for changing costumes. Sherlock wrapped an arm around (Y/N) and pulled them into his side so that anyone seeing the pair would attack him first. Luckily, the footsteps receded.

(Y/N)’s eyes brightened as their foot nudged a small bag. Inside lay several cans of yellow spray paint. They picked it up and examined it. The label read ‘Michigan,’ which aligned with what company Raz said it was from. Sherlock grinned seeing it and took it. He stood and walked to a mirror where he experimentally drew a line across it.

“Got you,” he murmured in satisfaction.

(Y/N) saw a movement out of the corner of their eye. It was the acrobat, finished with his performance and coming straight for the detective. He was no longer a simple acrobat; he was an assassin.

“Sherlock!” they cried, jumping to their feet.

Sherlock ducked, narrowly avoiding the man’s knife, and blocked the next attack with the can of spray paint. (Y/N) grabbed another and hit the assassin’s elbow. They didn’t have the strength to break the bone, but it would hurt like hell. Sure enough, the blow to his nerve caused him to drop his knife, but the acrobat turned and grabbed (Y/N)’s throat in one fluid motion. Sherlock acted quickly and sprayed the paint in his masked face. The acrobat cried out in frustration, dropped (Y/N), and stumbled backwards. (Y/N) kicked him as he stumbled so he fell to the ground.

Unfortunately, he used his momentum to roll over to his feet. The assassin leapt at Sherlock and (Y/N), but Sherlock pushed the teenager out of the way. He tumbled through the curtains onto the stage with the acrobat. (Y/N) acted on instinct and ran at the acrobat, tackling him off Sherlock, who couldn’t stand. The assassin flipped (Y/N) onto their back, knocking the wind out of them, and drew out a knife hidden in his boot. Before he could stab (Y/N), John, surprised by seeing his friends in a fight, pushed him away. The man tripped John, who, with his bad leg, fell to the ground.

(Y/N) scrambled to the side as the acrobat returned and kicked them over. They yelped at the sensation, and Sherlock forced himself to his feet and grabbed the old wooden arrow in anger. He swung it into the assassin’s head before any further damage could be done to (Y/N). The acrobat collapsed and groaned in near-unconsciousness.

Sherlock pulled (Y/N) to their feet. “We need to leave,” he said to John, who nodded and helped guide a still-shocked Sarah out. Sherlock supported (Y/N) as he guided them out, glancing worriedly at them for signs of serious damage. “Are you alright?” he asked as they got into a cab.

(Y/N) nodded. “Just going to have some bruises.” They frowned. “And I broke all my spare lollipops.”

Sherlock sighed in relief that they were relatively unhurt. “You didn’t need to put yourself in danger. It wasn’t a smart move; you couldn’t have won.”

(Y/N) fiddled with their sweater sleeves. “Yeah, but I wanted to help you. He was hurting you…”

Sherlock softened almost imperceptibly. “I understand that you were…” being kind “being helpful, or at least trying to, but still, it is important for you to be careful.” I don’t want you putting yourself in danger.

“I sent a couple cars,” shouted Dimmock, who had basically been forced into acting (once again) by Sherlock. “But the hall is deserted!”

“Look, I saw a mark at the circus—that tattoo that we saw on the three memories, the mark of the Tong,” said Sherlock, frustrated. “Lukis and Van Coon were part of a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China, something valuable. These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back.”

“Get what back?” demanded Dimmock.

“We…don’t know,” admitted John awkwardly.

“You don’t know,” snapped Dimmock. “Mr. Holmes…I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something. I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I’ll have something to show for it other than a massive bill for overtime.”

Sherlock was furiously going over the evidence from Soo Lin’s death again. He needed to find anything he’d missed. He needed a lead. (Y/N) examined the photos with him. They hadn’t looked at them yet, so hopefully they’d spy what had been overlooked first. (While they were stressing over the case, John prepared tea and biscuits for Sarah to calm her down and save the so-far disaster of a date).

(Y/N) frowned. “Sherlock, is this her writing?” They held up a photo of Soo Lin’s body slumped over the museum table. Beside her body was a piece of paper with a few words scribbled on it.

Sherlock’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the photo. “She translated the code! Nine, Mill,” he read.

“So whatever was stolen was worth nine million quid,” said (Y/N) thoughtfully. “At least that narrows what it could be.”

“We need to know the end of the sentence,” muttered Sherlock. He turned and began walking towards the door.”

“Are we going to see what books she had around when she died?” asked (Y/N), moving to follow him.

“I am,” said Sherlock. “But you’re staying here. The assassins will be on high alert. They may be checking what clues they need to erase. It’ll be safer here.”

(Y/N) scowled. “Yeah, but I can help you.”

“You found the photo. That’s enough,” said Sherlock sharply. He didn’t want them coming with him into possible danger after they nearly got stabbed. With those final words, Sherlock left 221B and closed the door.

(Y/N) scowled and went to their room angrily. They didn’t like Sherlock pushing them out of parts of cases. So what if it was dangerous? They’d been in dangerous positions before. Hell, they went up against a serial killer cabbie.

A cry from Sarah broke their annoyed inward monologue as the sound of something following echoed up. They opened their room door and saw a Chinese man with a gun holding Sarah hostage while two others pulled an unconscious John up to drag him out. A fourth man saw (Y/N) and pulled out his gun.

Aiming it at them as he approached, he demanded, “Do you have it?”

The item, thought (Y/N). “I don’t even know what it is.”

The man struck them with his gun in their head, sending them into the door and to the ground. “Do not lie!”

“I don’t!” they hissed.

“Then you will ensure we’ll get it.” A kick to their head sent their consciousness spiraling into darkness.

As blackness closed in, fear seized them. They were alone. Sherlock wasn’t by their side, and in the end, they were a teenager who wanted their dad mentor to be there.

Sherlock…Help…

#a study of the heart and brain #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x teen reader #sherlock x teen!reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock #bbc sherlock #x teen reader #x teen!reader #teen reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #x reader #found family #found family trope

70 notes · View notes

legobiwan · 2 years

Text

Tales of the Jedi 1:3 "Choices"

I'M FLIPPING OUT HERE

Just...my gods, there is a lot in this episode

Okay, okay - first of all, I do love Mace and Dooku's interactions here. Mace obviously respects, although doesn't always agree, with Dooku. But! Despite registering his protest to Dooku's so-called "interference," he also doesn't prevent Dooku from carrying out that investigation. The whole breakdown really happens when Mace inadvertently kills that one guard in self defence (I guess you could read it, from Mace's point of view, that this is what happens when the Jedi veer from their directives, from their rules. Innocent lives are lost and I don't think that death rested easy on Mace's conscience. And you could imagine him doubling down on the rules after that incident and inheriting Katri's seat due to the events just prior to that incident. Not to say that this is the entire reason Mace is rule-bound - it's certainly not - but it probably caused him to dig in a little more, especially during his initial tenure as a Council Member.)

ANYWAY, getting back to Dooku.

I thought this line was hilarious and my gods, is this man the teacher of Rael Averross and Qui-gon Jinn, or WHAT?

Can you imagine him saying the EXACT SAME THING to a young Obi-wan? BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL CAN!!!!!!!!!

The line about not getting involved in local political skirmishes without approval from the Council or Senate is fascinating. Just much autonomy do the Jedi have out there? You know Dooku disagrees with this philosophy and thinks the Jedi could do more but being an arm of the Senate - which they absolutely are at this point, involvement in "local politics" could upset the status quo, for both good and ill. Obviously, the death of Katri was something the corrupt Senator did not want investigated and he assumed it wouldn't be as it's probably well-known the Jedi cannot interfere as their own political arm...a philosophy that has two sides in that no, you can't save everyone but at the same time, at what point do you end up being the "lapdogs and enforcers" of the corrupt, rich and powerful?

Alright, I have to spend a moment talking about Dooku: Space Detective because this is 100% a precursor to Obi-wan Kenobi: Space Detective. The way they investigate their physical environments! Ask logical questions! LOOK AT THIS!

This is all to say we need an AU of Dooku and Obi-wan quitting the order to open up a Space Detective Agency because COULD. YOU. IMAGINE??? (And to make one more point, the opening of this episode reminded me a lot of the opening of the Utapau arc. Retrieving a dead Jedi body, a mysterious murder, etc.)

THAT MAKASHI THOUGH LOOK AT THIS MAN GO! THE BEHIND THE BACK DEFLECTION, THE THE RESET TO THE MAAKSHI SALUTE, BEST SABER FORM EVER HE TOTALLY SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT OBI-WAN TO MAKASHI

And also - the absolute control, strength, and focus it must take to do all this ONE-HANDED. With limited acrobatics. (Unlike Mace). INCREDIBLE.

One of the interesting facets of Dooku I feel isn't talked about enough is the fact that he comes from this patrician background. Is Serennian royalty. AND YET, his largest concern is the way in which the Order, to his mind, is abandoning planets and beings to serve the interests of the rich and powerful. Is it because he was forsaken by Serenno, by his family? (Which works both in the EU and Canon backstories). And then he returns to Serenno to claim that title and become one of the rich and the powerful (and yes, to a certain degree, corrupt). It's really a fascinating arc and one I'd like to tease out a little further to really get at all possible implications and motivations.

I also found the statement he made to the Raxxian prisoner that his people shouldn't "evolve" to be a precise and odd choice of wording. Dooku is a man of precision who wields his words as well as his lightsaber. "Evolve" is such an interesting term to use. Is this meant to contrast with the Jedi and the Senate, who have "evolved" so much as to consider themselves above what they came from, to have forgotten their roots and their peoples? That the Jedi are too concerned with philosophicals and not enough with practicals in the way they have "evolved" in the Temple? Their heads being too far up in the clouds, along with the Temple Spire, as it were?

Okay, I have to say, the funeral scene with Ki-Adi was a little funny, only because the minute I saw his comically elongated hood, this immediately popped into my deranged mind:

(Admittedly, I had been thinking of this meme this morning as a way to introduce enharmonic respellings for chromatic modulation in the class I teach. And this is where it all lands me. Ha!)

ANYWAY.

There are a lot of implications in Dooku's question to Mace regarding the timing of his knowledge of his new Council appointment. Is Dooku insinuating Mace was somehow in cahoots with the Senator? No, that would be ridiculous. But what, then? That Mace didn't want to interfere for fear of losing his new seat, or losing face with the Council. More likely.

And there's this line, which ages TERRIBLY in light of everything that happens in TCW.

And I know Filoni's going hard on the Council in this episode, but there is a point to be made - less about the corruption of the Council, but rather its stasis and its inflexibility in the light of a failing pangalactic government. (Even before anything with Palpatine or the War came to fruition). The Council is 1000% guided by politics - they would be independent of the Senate if they weren't. And ego - maybe not Mace, as much, but certainly Yoda (forget the whole Dark Side thing, I'm just thinking of sending Obi-wan alone after Maul when re-emerges due to whisperings from "the Force." If Yoda had actually listened to Mace and sent a task force, how different would things have turned out? At least in that situation).

Okay last point. When Dooku is doing his whole pensive reflection bit at the end of the episode in the Temple, we see these diamond-ish shaped obelisks as part of the Temple decor. It did not escape my attention that Dooku has similarly shaped obelisks on the grounds of his Serenno estate, specifically the area where he trains Savage. I DON'T THINK THAT IS A COINCIDENCE.

Anyway, so far, this series is doing a great job of painting Dooku and his fall as highly nuanced and is actually making valid criticisms of the Jedi - things that definitely helped lead to Palpatine's rise and the outcome of the war. I also like that this version of Dooku seems to be a little closer to his Dark Rendezvous iteration (which is my absolute favorite backstory and a favorite portrayal of older!Dooku. Although Jedi Lost and M&A do a first-rate job showing teacher!Dooku to Rael and Qui-gon).

I think the next episode is the one where Qui-gon is going to show up again and I'm going to lose it when that happens. I also really need to go to sleep so I can wake up for a flight in like, *checks watch and laughs nervously* 4ish hours. Oof.

Anyway, 10/10 LOVE

#hello there #totj #count dooku #mace windu #that...uh...I haven't gone on a star wars rant in a while #SOLID EPISODE #it's good to come back to my roots #DOOKU GAAAAAAAAHHH

39 notes · View notes

tobiasdrake · 5 months

Text

We have a plan. I have it on good authority that it's a bad plan. But it's a plan and I'm going with it.

Here on the ship, or out at sea? Because I have a bunch of questions but they're going to be different questions based on the geographic location of the rods.

Out at sea, gotcha. So, did he construct them himself? I guess if we're in a pocket dimension then he probably, like, manifested them or something.

Ghost physics are like that.

Oh, sure. I catch your drift.

You want a little payment up front. You want to see what we're made of. This will be a piece of--

FIRE IS HOT

I don't know why I did that. Sometimes you see an obstacle that is clearly hazardous and yet you still have to touch it to find out how hazardous.

...

She's looking at me sideways, isn't she?

Judging.

Man, it's a good thing for us that this wind mage's torturous maelstrom dimension isn't very windy.

Then again, maybe it is and I just have a warped definition of "windy". Could be all that acrobatics training in the turbulent upper atmosphere with no guardrails affecting my perception. This might actually be really hard, and I owe Moraine an apology.

Alright. Team meeting. I'm gonna be honest, I'm pretty sure Hortence is expecting us to die horribly. We may have fumbled this first impression somewhere along the way. For that, I am willing to accept a small portion of the blame.

YES, second impression is a win! Garl, fistbump me.

We get to drive the ghost ship? SUCCESS. It's halfway to ours!

Garl, Zale, you two drive the ship. Serai, Teaks, and I will be in the captain's quarters with Hortence. Because Serai's been professionally dine-and-dashing me since we met and Teaks always has her nose in a book. This is the first chance I've had to spend an extended period of time with other women in TEN. YEARS.

I love you guys but it's Girl Time. Knock on the door when we reach the first island.

Oh yeah, that's definitely a lightning rod. You can practically hear it whispering in a ghostly voice. "Please break me. I'm so smashable."

Less sure of what these coins are for. Maybe we use them to buy our way into smashing the crystals. We pay off the curse in cursed pirate gold? It's curse logic; It doesn't have to make sense.

Yep, works just like that. The curse is a capitalist.

Wonder what these platforms are meant for? We're going to use them to break the crystals but that's obviously not their intended purpose.

Kinda looks like maintenance platforms, to me. Like you send someone up there to shoot magic into the crystals or something to charge them or repair them or something. Basically the opposite of what we're doing.

Oh no, your barrier disappeared. However could that have happened? I was just doing what the crystals told me to. Honest.

Alright guys, here we go with the final push. Everyone ready to teach a whiny little undead shit how to respect women's agency?

Personally, I hope we see an actual maelstrom inside Maelstrom Point. Because I've been promised a maelstrom but so far all I've gotten is thunderstorm. Stormcaller's gonna have to do a lot better than this to wow me.

And yet doesn't drag them down into any sort of maelstrom. Fancy that.

I like your fire mane. It's green. That means that when we cut off your head, we can pay the ferryman to take us to Roro and plunder more soulstones.

"My ship" he says even though we've sailed her more in the last several hundred years than he has.

And Serai wanted to buy her off of you. Tell you what, I'll pay you to jump off that cliff instead. Not with a Coin of Undeath Accord; We don't have that any more. I mean with the other currency.

You know what, credit where it's due. That is a raw line.

But I still don't see any maelstroms so you only get half-credit.

Okay. There it is. I wasn't. Actually expecting you to call my bluff like that. I. Uh.

It's very cool. I'm wowed. Good. Good job. You can put that away n--

Yeah, that's fair.

@_@ No wonder Hortence was laughing at us for thinking we can take this guy. He lives up to his reputation. He is a beast.

But not beast enough.

Oh goddammit, he vaporized. I had plans for his head! Do you know how hard this fight was? I earned that head. Fuck!

#sea of stars #drake plays sea of stars

5 notes · View notes

yjwhatif · 2 years

Note

I wonder what all the younger heroes plan to do career-wise once they're older. What do you think? I can't really see Bart becoming a scientist like Barry or Wally, or a reporter like Iris, so he's a mystery. Maybe a counselor like Ed? Helping kids with traumatic backgrounds? Does Jaime want to be a dentist like in the comics? What about Cassie? She doesn't wear a mask or anything, so is she a public hero now? And Virgil? Even Tim and the other Batkids? Sorry for the overload, just curious!

Sooo... for reasons I cannot explain, I am terrible at thinking these sorts of things up (seriously I can even do it for my own life) hence why it has taken me SO LONG to come up with any of this (very sorry about that)... anyway, here goes...

Careers…

(there is absolutely no logic or reasoning behind most of these - I just wrote down the first thing I thought of… and I have no wider DC canon knowledge either...)

Ed - (who is probably the easiest one) would be some kind of counsellor… maybe if we ever see the sanctuary thing Dinah mentioned in the last episode we could see Ed actually working there as a counsellor (I presume there’d be councillors there) - the MHYC certainly doesn’t seem to have much happening there anymore - so maybe that’s his next step?

Bart - definitely something with kids - I imagine he loves babysitting and being around kids who are bursting with energy all the time - he’s good at keeping up with them - so something that involves taking care of them.

Jaime - an engineer… i can see him studying in something technical but I definitely cannot see YJs jaime being a dentist… but who knows maybe he is - Greg and Brandon do like keeping in obscure comic details - like Dinah being a florist.

Traci - something with animals… I can imagine her working/volunteering in an animal shelter and having a strong connection with all the animals

Cassie - a writer...

And Virgil - something artistic... illustrator or photographer maybe...

Again, there’s no actual reasoning behind these two, I’ve just got this image of Cassie shadowing Clark at work and cassie not shying away from going straight into a difficult story and Clark being impressed and a really great mentor - those two bonding would be so fun to see (honestly, after s4, I just want more Clark interacting with the youngsters - it'd be cool)… Then maybe Virgil could be like the jimmy Olsen to Cassie's Clark Kent - they have such a strong friendship, and I like the idea of them teaming up outside of the hero game - it doesn't have to be in journalism, but whatever it is, she writes and he illustrates to create something truly epic!

Raquel - I have no clue and can't even think of something random...

same goes for kaldur - though i feel like for him, up until the end of his arc in s4, his life was being Aquaman or serving the king/council in some way and nothing else... so yeah, no other clues on him.

then, Dick - a detective, but in his off time he goes back to his acrobatics...

and Zatanna is a stage magician.

And that’s all I got for potential professions. In terms of secret id’s, I will say i have always been confused on what the situation is with those who don't where masks who are public heroes - Ed, Virgil, Cassie - i presume they're just out and, given nothing has ever been said otherwise, I guess they don’t get too much trouble from it. I don’t know but I would really like to see what everyday life is like for those who don’t wear masks - I imagine there’s the odd selfie request… and now I have the image of Ed and Bart walking down the street when they’re stopped by someone asking if they can have a picture with Ed the Outsiders, the kid gives Bart the camera and he and Ed just share a knowing look at each other before taking the picture, the kid thanks them both and goes merrily on his way while bart and Ed playfully tease each other for the rest of the day.

Thanks for the messages anons - I hope this answered at least some of your questions…

#thanks anon!#ask box #my response #young justice #yj #my random thoughts #bart allen #eduardo dorado jr #cassie sandsmark #virgil hawkins #jaime reyes #traci thurston #clark kent #tackling the backlog

16 notes · View notes

emsylcatac · 2 years

Text

hi I'm gonna talk about post-reveal pre-relationship (because I can) and in this totally disorganised essay I will list reasons why it is important that we get post-reveal pre-relationship in the show and why it makes sense (to me and my personal needs but consider this list has everyone's best interests at heart and not just my own)

1. post-reveal pre-relationship in Ephemeral was brilliant so imagine getting all of this but it lasts more than like 5minutes. like imagine we really take the time to see them reconciling the other's identity in more than one episode

2. once the reveal happen, we get to look forward to them getting together and imagine tons of different scenarios (we already do that but you get what I mean right): it's like once your birthday has passed there's still christmas to look forward to, you know?

3. we get to see them fall in love a second (or third 😏) time

4. it really is upping the clowning to the next level honestly and what is this show if not a clowns show

5. we saw pictures of Adrien as Chat Noir in ephemeral thanks to the Marinette Freak Out Vision, but now I also need to see pictures of Chat Noir as Adrien too so if the next Marinette Freak Out Vision could give us that it would be neat (ladyblog pictures of Chat Noir's acrobatics from Rocketear I'm counting on you)

6. In the same idea and logic, we never got to see the Adrien Simp Vision of switching pictures of Marinette and Ladybug and really I think we should see it too for our personal simp reasons

7. the shenanigans and doubts of "has he moved on? does he still love me even though I rejected him before? shit he's not flirting why did I tell him to stop, I take it baaack" and "who is buttercup I really really really need to know, yes you can practice your confession for him on me my lady doesn't hurt one bit haha ha"

8. if you think the pining pre-reveal is bad, imagine the pining in a prpr situation. it'd be a nightmare but a nightmare we're willing to have

9. the classmates obliviously discussing Ladybug & Chat Noir's romantic endeavours right in front of Adrien & Marinette who have to just stand here and listen knowing it's exactly themselves they're talking about

10. Even better, they ask Marinette her opinion on Ladybug and Chat Noir's romantic feelings when Adrien is right here

11. Marinette putting up pictures of Chat Noir in her room

12. Adrien hiding pictures of Marinette in his room

13. every or so episode we get to be like "this is it. this is the one. it's gonna happen" and last second they chicken out but we got an awfully sweet moment we will scream about (in both frustration and happiness)

14. the end of ship wars within the same ship as we all scream towards the same goal: get together for the love of cheese

15. them going on a date-what date-this is not a date many many times

anyway I need to go to bed but who knows I just might continue this list later

#miraculous #prpr #post-reveal pre-relationship #lovesquare #ml spoilers #ephemeral #ephemeral spoilers

459 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

Aside from the obvious angst implications, the Sky-Widow Clones AU also offers up a new batch of potential Off Duty Clone Shenanigans, this time with bonus little sisters all running off the same core values and logic of Anakin “I’ll try spinning, that’s a good trick” Skywalker. No amount of mental conditioning is gonna erase that part of them completely, though the chips probably eventually will.

IDK how much of this you've seen of the AU but there's quite a bit of shenanigans:

- Context: Skysisters AU - List of Aniclones with attributes - Shipping and the Beginning of the End - The Adventures of Jinn and Kebi (and Korkie) - bulletpoint thoughts - (chrono)

But here's a few more ideas:

A lot of the first gen clones (the CCs, Rex, etc.) are more protective than actually engaging in the shenanigans, because the younger field Aniclones (not the CG Aniclones) hit the "Oh no, padawans, must protect," buttons.

However! Shinies that join once the girls have hit their stride, and the Shiny Fetts are in the same age grouping as the active Aniclones? They absolutely have a blast.

212th shinies know that Addie's always trying to be more like Obi-Wan and Cody, and so I like the idea that some of them do Study Games with her, which isn't quite the shenanigans you're suggesting, I think, but I'm a fan.

A lot of the Aniclones are the kind of Jedi kid that like to use time off to do acrobatic tricks for the heck of it, and so it's not uncommon to see a drags the clones into doing cupies and double cartwheels with her.

Jinn and Kebi are raising hell and they dragged Korkie, and eventually some deserter clones, into it with them.

Tilly (Pest) shows up to the Corrie barracks with Fun Drinks of the sugary kind, and baked goods, on the regular. Most clones don't like booze but they do like sugar rushes, and this leads to its own kind of chaos.

Despite being a mother Hen, Henrietta is 100% team "let's build a trebuchet on our off time and see how far you can throw me and Boba with it, I'll catch us with the Force and you can aim for the water, it'll be fine"

Some of Ducky's training includes floating a bunch of rocks for the Shinies to jump from one to the next like this.

The Shinies in Fritz's battalion get magnetized shoes so they can cling to the hull of her ship as she flips them around in circles (they're all wearing jetpacks, Feemor, it's fine!).

Stella and her crew get jealous and do the same thing but better because screw you, Fritz! This is now a competition!

Talas has an entire army of younglings so there's that. - I think this leads to small but intense baking competitions where everyone asks Talas, 99, and Alpha to judge their creations. - They'd ask Master Ti but she's a Togruta and her taste buds don't agree with a human's. 😔

Pixie got a sewing machine, and Siri gives her pocket money for fabric, and Pixie is making this everyone's problem. The clones in their legion sport handmade accessories that are slowly getting more complex as she gets better at this. The initial products are very funky.

Lamb, in complement, learned to knit because SHEEP.

Lyra has a SpaceTube channel and the more musically-inclined clones in her legion are in on it.

Rocker finds out about Space Roller Derby and set up some games of it with the Fett clones in her legion

Digit has an inexplicable rivalry with Cad Bane over something. Nobody can figure out what it's about but it sure is happening.

For some reason... I feel like Nightshade has insomnia and an unexpected result of this is that she got into aerial silks as a hobby and the late shift Fetts like to hang around and try it out when she's figuring it out.

BAUL likes to do pin-up art. Much sketching. The Fett clones high five her over it.

Harpy has the codes to Riyo's office. She has permission to stop by. She does not have to climb the outside wall in her pencil skirt and kitten heels and knock on the window for access. Guess what she does anyway.

Mauve tries so hard to be calm and collected and like her padawan sister but this girl cannot back down from a dare.

I think Teddie has like. A hat collection. This isn't really a shenanigan, I just think she'd like having a variety of novelty hats. Like the ones that have cat ears or the long mitten attachments.

Aimée introduces the Fett clones in her immediate friendship group to underground fight rings.

I think when Ginger has a day off, she dresses up as a Harpy or Belle and wanders around the Senate to confuse people and also collect gossip.

Krayt has pocket sand specifically to throw at Anakin.

Haunter and Slinky cause multiple games of "Bell the Cat" and none of them ever succeed.

I tagged in @willowcrowned for help because she shares this AU and she had some gems:

Robin discovers Jests and Japes from Yoda and proceeds to disseminate this information amongst the skysisters. Unfortunately, Robin doesn’t have a great idea of what pranks actually entail beyond ‘spray paint something that shouldn’t be spray painted’ or ‘bedazzle someone’s robes without their permission,’ which means that every one of the Skysisters then proceeds to do those two things. Multiple Jedi generals wake up with sparkling boots and walls painted a vibrant purple. The CTs helped.

Jinn and Kebi stumble upon a world that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan visited that miraculously doesn’t have a problem with them and proceed to read all the records of their involvement there. This is followed by some soul searching as they decide that maybe this diplomacy thing has some merits. Korkie sighs in relief. Six days later, when he discovers that by “diplomacy” they mean “veiled threats” and “blatant lying” he is less relieved. Unbeknownst to any of them, Jinn and Kebi are carrying on the Jinn and Kenobi legacy perfectly

Belle is widely regarded to be the best-behaved of all the Skysisters because of her poise and grace and affiliation with Amidala. This makes no sense to anyone who actually knows Amidala, because Amidala is crazy. So is Belle, who has a habit of hunting down would-be assassins herself and clapping them in handcuffs before they even realize she’s there. This ends up getting her a bounty on the lower levels, which seems great for the bounty hunters who take it because hey, she’s just a clone. Then they realize hey, she’s a clone, and most of them don’t chance bringing in the wrong one. (One does attempt to get Pest. He does not survive.)

#I don't have any shenanigans for Fern sorry #clone wars #star wars #the clone wars #cloning #Phoenix Posts #Skysisters AU #Phoenix Answers Asks

98 notes · View notes

kaistarus · 3 years

Text

One Bed Mix-Up

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Words:2.5K

Summary: Nishinoya insists he’s the world’s greatest traveler, so you decide to visit him during your spring break vacation. But due to his inability to speak foreign languages Nishinoya messes up and gets you both a room with only one bed…

A/N: How could I not find a way to write the fanfic classic with my favorite boi? The fact that even took me this long?? I’m ashamed… Seriously tho I love this fic so much lmao

Masterlist

This could not be real.

You examined the room that had been essentially what Nishinoya explained-on the small side, but an open concept that made it more than comfortable. However, you immediately froze because where you were expecting some sort of living space was instead just one bed shoved against the wall. A detail that had been conveniently left out of his description.

You side-eyed Nishinoya’s amused smile with a glare.

“You did this on purpose,” you accused.

“I swear I didn’t,” he snorted, tossing his bag onto the bed nonchalantly. “Well, it’s possible I accidentally did, but it wasn’t on purpo-”

“What do you mean you ‘accidentally’ did this?”

“I’m not very good at Italian, okay?” Nishinoya threw his hands up. “I called last minute and there were so many words,” he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the bed. “I guess ‘full’ meant bed size and not a room ‘full’ of beds, huh?”

“I feel like numbers would’ve been a better indicator,” you mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“In hindsight, probably, but here we are.” He fell back onto the bed. “I’d go to talk to them, but it’s late and I don’t think I know enough to haggle.”

“This sucks,” you groaned, placing your bag beside him on the bed. He grinned up at you seeming unbothered by your circumstance.

“It could be worse. We could have no room at all,” he shrugged, digging through his own duffel for night supplies. “I did that once in Thailand because I tried to last minute find a place but couldn’t. Now that sucked.”

You raised your eyebrow at how casually he spoke about the situation, and he just ruffled your hair before heading toward the bathroom. Your stare lingered on the bathroom’s door before flickering toward the bed, narrowing your eyes at it and giving it a petty kick. This was a worst case scenario you had never planned for when you agreed to this trip with Nishinoya.

When you casually mentioned you were thinking about taking an actual vacation for your last spring break Nishinoya jumped on it. He eagerly told you how his travel expertise made him the best guide and after several years he could make it the cheapest trip possible. You were a little skeptical at first, but you had saved enough for a round-trip to Italy and he swore he’d pay for the majority of your food when you got there. It was the best deal you’d get.

The only problem was even after over three years of not seeing him your heart still did acrobatics when he wrapped his arms around you at the airport.

You glared at the bed that the universe had planted for your demise and huffed, grabbing Nishinoya’s bag and dropping it on the floor before climbing atop the plush mattress. His words continued to echo throughout the small room as he rambled from the bathroom, but you paid little attention as you dug through your suitcase for your own nighttime supplies.

“Does that sound like a good plan?”

You glanced over and tensed, quickly snapping your eyes back to your suitcase. Nishinoya had poked his head out of the bathroom with his hair now plastered down on his forehead which had always been your kryptonite. You cursed yourself, rubbing a fist over where your heart pounded against ribcage.

It hadn’t even been six hours since he picked you up from the airport and you were already freaking out. How were you supposed to handle the next two weeks?

“Are you even listening?” He pouted, then pointing his toothbrush to his duffel bag. “Why is my stuff on the ground?”

“‘Cause you’re sleeping on the floor.”

He was silent for a half a minute before asking with genuine confusion, “why am I sleeping on the floor?”

“Did you actually think we were sharing the bed?” You looked at his puzzled expression in disbelief. “It’s barely big enough for one of us.”

“I guess… you’re right.” He avoided your eyes and you swore his cheeks tinted pink, but he turned away and threw a thumb inside the bathroom to signal you could get ready. You left him grabbing stuff off the bed and tossing them onto the floor as you walked away with supplies cradled in your arms.

Once finished you stretched your arms high above your head while exiting the bathroom. You cocked your head to the side as you took in Nishinoya lying on the hardwood, one arm tucked under a pillow and a flimsy blanket thrown haphazardly across him as he scrolled through his phone. The sight sent an ounce of guilt coursing through you as you crawled on the bed, wondering why he left the comforter regardless of the already uneven circumstances.

He mumbled goodnight before crawling across the room to flicker off the lights and you shrunk into yourself at the lopsided grin he sent you. As you wiggled under the warmth of the comforter you grimaced at the cold that filled the room outside your cocoon. Was Nishinoya freezing on the floor?

You frowned, turning toward the window that took up a large portion of the wall beside you. The moonlight crept in and illuminated the room in a soft glow that allowed for vision despite the hour. You closed your eyes, listening to Nishinoya’s uneven breathing which informed you that he was far from sleep-not surprising given his uncomfortable position. You groaned internally as butterflies tickled your stomach like you were back in high school.

It wouldn’t be fair to force him to be miserable because you still harbored immature feelings. You slung your arm over your eyes, taking a calming breath before crawling toward the edge of the bed and peeking your eyes at him. His already open amber eyes flickered to meet yours and after several moments of contact a wicked grin spread on his lips.

“You better not move around in your sleep,” you grumbled, shuffling over as far as you could without falling off.

“No promises,” he laughed, pulling the comforter back and wasting no time wiggling underneath. Your cheeks warmed as he adjusted his pillow, shoulder pressing firmly against your back.

He could at least pretend to be uncomfortable with the situation.

Unlike him, it hadn’t taken you long to regret everything. You spent every second he’d been there counting the bricks in front of you hoping that if you bored yourself to sleep you wouldn’t keep having a heart attack everytime Nishinoya adjusted his position.

“Can you stop freaking out?” Nishinoya asked annoyedly, you felt him roll to face your back. “You're making it hard for me to sleep.

“I’m not freaking out,” you scoffed, tightening your grip on the comforter.

“You haven’t relaxed since I got up here.” He poked your side and you jumped obnoxiously, helping prove his point further. You furrowed your brow frustratedly and pulled the comforter higher up your face.

“You’re looking too deep into nothing,” you lied. “I couldn’t care less that you’re here, Noya.”

You realized that came out meaner than you intended as the room filled with silence. You opened your mouth to correct it, but it slammed shut when you felt his forehead rest gently between your shoulder blades.

“Liar,” he said slyly.

You didn’t know how to respond because you were lying, but you didn’t think Nishinoya would ever call you on it. You sighed, glancing over your shoulder before mustering the courage to shuffle around and face his crooked grin.

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” You deadpanned.

“Well, you’re acting like it’s torture.”

You rolled your eyes, but internally you wanted to scream that it practically was torture. He had no clue how long you had liked him and apparently, despite all logic, still did.

Nishinoya poked your fist that laid between you both. “I’m really glad you came,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” you whispered. It was bizarre how much he’d changed, yet felt exactly the same. A little taller, less baby faced, but still the exact same sense of humor and goofy smile-even keeping his signature hairstyle.

You furrowed your brow, staring at the blonde strip of hair that rested on his forehead. You used to think it was dyed until seeing pictures of him post-high school, doubting his upkeep abilities without his sisters’.

Perhaps it was the late hour or the soft smile that rested on his lips, but you were filled with an usual bout of courage as you slowly lifted your hand to run your fingers through the strands laying on his forehead. His eyes widened at the contact, but he did nothing to stop you-even leaning down to give easier reach.

“I missed you,” he confessed under the cover of night and your fingers faltered.

You frowned when you met his eyes filled with sudden adoration. “Is this a scheme, Noya?”

He blinked, taken aback. “A what?”

“Like, invite me to Italy and then uh-oh one bed? How did that happen? Now I’m gonna smooth talk you while we’re in bed. ” You rolled your eyes pulling your hand back.

“I swear I’m not smart enough to come up with all of that.” He said, grabbing your hand and placing it back on his head. “I would never rely on my ability to smooth talk.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I guess that’s true.”

“I’m way better than I was in high school.” He nodded proudly, which honestly wasn’t saying much. “I mean, if we were still in high school I wouldn’t be able to handle being in this room. Especially because I was, like, in love with you.”

Time froze as those words left his mouth. Your mouth hung open as you tried to process them and when he waved his hand in front of your face you sat up, pointing an accusatory finger down at him.

“What the hell do you mean you used to like me?”

“Uh,” he pushed your hand away. “I had a crush on you? It was pretty obvious. Everyone knew about it.”

“I didn’t know about it.” You stared down at your own hands in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looked up thoughtfully, “well, the last crush I had was in love with my best friend, so I wasn’t on a great streak.”

“That’s a stupid reason,” you frowned, poking his chest angrily. “I’m not Kiyoko. You had no idea what would’ve happened if-”

“Why are you so mad?” He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. “This was like four years ago.”

“Well, it was just… I sort of liked you too so that would’ve-.” You felt your face heat up as Nishinoya’s grip on your hand tightened and he shot up, as well.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wha-you liked Kiyoko,” you poked his forehead with your freehand and he clasped that one as well. “After she started dating Tanaka you were all ‘I’m gonna travel the world’. The timing never felt right.”

“That’s stupid!”

“It makes more sense than, ‘I was on a losing streak’.”

“No, because I just figured there was no point in trying!”

“Well, I assumed you were leaving forever and didn’t want to be dead weight that-”

You were cut off by Nishinoya pulling you down to press your lips together. Your eyes widened at the sudden contact, staring at his squeezed shut eyes as you stiffly wondered what you were supposed to do. Definitely not having your eyes open like a creep, and kissing back would be a good idea too.

Just as you started getting yourself together Nishinoya pulled back with a concerned crease to his brow.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just… Was that okay?” He tilted his head, loosening his hold on your hands. You were too flustered to form a proper sentence and he took your silence as a bad sign. Panicked and without a plan you pulled your hands from his grasp to cradle his cheeks.

His eyes flickered down your lips and he leaned close; eyes drifting closed while he rubbed his nose lazily against your own, waiting for you to close the gap. The room’s silence felt deafening as you leaned the few inches forward to press your lips gently against Nishinoya’s. You felt the corners of his lips quirk upwards briefly before he wrapped his arms around your midsection to pull you closer against his chest.

Your heart reacted faster than the rest of you, leaping around your chest uncontrollably as you tried to focus on everything else: tangling your hands in his hair, matching the oddly skilled pace he managed to set, and remaining calm when he pulled you both back onto the bed. As the kiss’ languid pace grew in intensity you pulled back, catching your breath and he watched you lovingly, pressing his forehead against yours and rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“You should visit more often,” he said with a dopey smile.

“Yeah, with all that money I have,” you deadpanned.

He pouted, wrapping his arms around your midsection to hold you impossibly closer while nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, “well, I should visit you more.”

“With all the money you have?” You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. He groaned against your neck, sending a vibration down your spine. Then he pulled back, his face lit up with some revelation as he smashed your cheeks together.

“You can just travel with me after you graduate,” he laughed elatedly.

You blinked once. Twice. “That’s a pretty bold suggestion.”

“You didn’t say no.”

Your cheeks warmed and a dopey smile forced its way onto your lips, “I didn’t say no…”

Another breathtaking smile covered his face and he pulled you back to his chest,nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. “I can live with that.”

You rolled your eyes, but revelled in the warmth that filled your chest as you gripped the fabric of his t-shirt. You couldn’t believe it took all these years to work through your feelings, simultaneously with someone like Nishinoya this was probably the only way it would happen. And even if nothing came of this in the end you were more than satisfied to have these next few weeks with him.

You snuggled against him, closing your eyes with a content smile resting on your lips. Just lying with him like this? It would be more than enough.

Tags: @nathalie707

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya yū #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya yu scenarios #nishinoya x you #nishinoya #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #noya x reader #yu nishinoya

436 notes · View notes

wildfire317 · 2 years

Text

So demon slayer headcannon:

I headcannon and i am convinced that this could easily be cannon that if Rui actually cared about the rankings he could have easily taken Enmu's place as lower moon one as he was before his death.

Here's why:

So for one, I'm pretty sure just about everyone knows that Rui was Muzan's favorite lower moon (and probably his main favorite out of all of them) and the things he said about Rui during the last episode of season one were said because he was upset that he was gone, But Muzan tends to give his blood to those in his favor who do what he wants them to and it wouldn't surprise me if that went double for his favorites. And then there's several things that happen during the mount natagumo arc and during the movie that makes me think that Rui is atleast as strong as Enmu. Firstly theres the thing where it took Tanjiro using a sun breathing move and the force of several explosions provided by nezuko's blood demon art to even get close to taking off Rui's head (and no rui taking his own head off to mess with him doesn't count) and giyuu completely taking over the fight to kill him while with Enmu it only took one of his water breathing moves and a few good assist hits from inosuke while zenitsu, nezuko and rengoku were keeping him distracted by protecting the passengers to actually take Enmu's head off. Now this COULD be explained by Tanjiro training and figuring out the total concentration constant thing, and while yes that probably helped but probably not enough to go up a full four kizuki ranks. And lastly there is their own respective fighting/hunting styles or since im a huge dnd nerd; their classes: so Rui has very high dexterity stat with athletics and acrobatic's bonuses and due to his high dexterity stat pretty high speed, he has decent strength stat, okay intelligence and wisdom stats, a decent charisma stat and an almost op constitution stat so the best class i could compare him to is a monk-rouge duel class with homebrew cantrips (spells that can be cast without taking up to much energy) and most likely usually had to deal with his prey fighting back and giving him a workout. While Enmu has high wisdom and intelligence stats, an op constitution stat, a decent strength stat, a decent charisma stat and an okay dexterity stat so the best class i could compare him to is a duel class wizard-bard that only uses spells that involve sleep and usually knocks his prey unconscious not getting the work out he could get if he didn't and instead knocks out multiple victims and gut-loads himself. And usually in that kind of fight the monk-rouge comes out on top unless they get caught by a sleep spell; Basically that means that in an actual fight the only logical way that Enmu could get Rui is with a sleep spell and knock him out but because Rui is the group favorite he probably has at the very least some knowledge on the rest of the lower ranks powers and probably knows the trick to Enmu's sleep spell ability.

#demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer rui #demon slayer enmu #demon slayer lower 5 #demon slayer lower 1

14 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 3 years

Text

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess.

It’s as if he’s been here before.

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving.

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride.

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks.

Catching on.

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly.

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope.

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this.

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck.

Which should be gross, but.

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck.

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away.

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side.

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?”

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm.

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen.

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster.

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly.

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.”

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

“This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway.

Steve holds his breath.

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost.

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous.

He doesn’t.

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion.

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity.

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope.

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner.

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this.

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but.

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe.

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window.

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act.

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?”

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked.

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. “I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach.

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there.

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had.

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking.

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so.

Steve gives Billy the shirt too.

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil.

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve.

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.”

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone.

Steve leans into the touch anyway.

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say.

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.”

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue.

God hovering over the surface of the deep.

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above.

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again.

How he can be taken apart.

“No such thing.”

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead.

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him.

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more.

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another.

It feels right.

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward.

Into an embrace.

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and and Steve.

Goes down easy.

#harringrove #wisdom teeth #part two #I was so touched at the requests!#so here she is.#I don't know #lol #I hope you enjoy it anyway!

69 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 3 years

Note

Bts voice analysis anon here! I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to respond ❤ it made complete sense why yoongi is the deepest I kinda feel bad for him everytime he wants to sounds cheerful or speak in a way so people can hear him he strains his voice

lot to talk about, i’d like to expand on this. especially what his voice being the deepest means for bts’ songs. plus, where his undiscovered vocal talents are, and in what manner his voice will not strain.

that he’s very introverted contributes to what you say, but yoongi is certainly the odd one out voice-wise, such low baritones hardly sound upbeat. similar to how taehyung being the odd one out in the vocal line whose head voices are literal superpowers. i really respect him for singing with jin and jimin who can climb one octave higher than him, up to C#5! and with jk who has the best technique and breaks into the 6th octave if he goes on like that.

it’s very much like yoongi who probably has to mix their tracks back and forth to fit his parts with hobi (who is a tenor as a rapper! — very uncommon) and namjoon who raps in several modes. very low, very high, very impactfully. he’s the most full-bodied baritone in the group even if he’s only the third-deepest. the tone is just so rich. both hoseok and RM are extreme vocal chameleons on top of that. in speaking and in their music you can hear the difference to yoongi all the time. they don’t suddenly drop in pitch and they’re vocal acrobats.

hobi in particular, this guy can do anything. the sheer agility my god, he connects his registers. he can go up and down, impersonate and do a million effects, adlibs, you know the drill. it’s him who actually owns the “cheerful/loud and clear” brand you mention. which is good if not fantastic for yoongi’s production endeavours, the group mood, and how bts cannot be ignored — but tough for yoongi’s voice and comparison thinking, and when he tries to make a point in interviews. maybe it’s not bad that bts have to slow down sometimes to let yoongi speak, but his tone is drowned out (not intentionally of course) in other occasions and he wakes up hoarse often as we saw. which might sound hot, but it’s not good for him as you say.

to be clear. i wouldn’t chalk down his more monotonous and silent tone as a weakness, it’s just outside of bts’ other vocal variety. he makes up for it with speed and good lungs anyway. we just have to listen more closely to him in talks/episodes/conferences but i think he shouldn’t worry about it either or try to sound more enthusiastic, the fans love his soothing speech for its pure sake. he does change it regardless to be more poignant and blend in. it has pros and cons but it wears him out.

yoongi’s voice is under that strain not just in conversation but also in the studio if he wants to bring connection to the rap line parts instead of having 3 songs in 1. which usually ends up happening anyway. that’s also why the cyphers (!) switch genres mid-song so often: their voices are all strong in different registers! yoongi the lowest, joon midrange, and hoseok up high.

that’s why cypher pt2 is a HUGE stunt and production masterpiece: hoseok’s part is tuned differently, then other instrumentals start with namjoon. and you can literally hear, okay alright a deep voice is coming! from there it just gets deeper and deeper until yoongi is just rapping over a bass guitar (every baritone’s best friend lmao!). god, please give yoongi a big bassline for his every part. “ugh” is the exact opposite: yoongi has to start too high and namjoon also has problems with the key, only hoseok can fully take off after 1:50 with perfect vocal stability. guess which song is autotuned: it’s not cypher pt2! a 3 in 1 song fuels the rapline in a way where they are most comfortable. it’s crazy how far apart they are among each other vocally and it has to be considered.

it’s a dilemma but also why bts’ rap line can tackle any song with at least one member suiting it. they complement each other, every register (except the rare whistle register, aka what mariah/ariana do) is covered. i think that contributed to bts’ fame, it’s so important. however usually, the song caters to hoseok since tenors are preferred in kpop music, or it caters to RM as he’s the central songwriting entity even if mind you, he always thinks about all the members and works closely with yoongi.

but even with joon’s support, it doesn’t work if yoongi is caught in his wish to be a tenor. we’ve seen how much the guy talks about wanting his range to become wider and how he even tried singing quite high for his standards on d-2. he goes as far as collabing only with sopranos to help him achieve that pitch. yoongi is invested to pretty much change his entire vocal type 🙁because the environment simps for high notes so bad (which is fair, falsetto is related to releasing certain happy hormones and highlights parts in songs, but still).

... he actually can’t, unless he wants to damage his throat. that’s the last thing we want. a listener can get the serotonin from a very deep voice equally if they got good taste.

thing is. you cannot morph yourself into a different vocal type and shift your range to the opposite of your comfort zone unless you’re whitney houston. even one in a million tenors like baekhyun can’t make themselves a baritone. his lowest notes are less clear no matter how hard he practices, even if his chest voice is almost operatic and his technique excels. meanwhile, chanyeol (who’s a lyric baritone and exo’s deepest voice) effortlessly hits them without (!!) that kind of decade-long training. have baekhyun or jimin been called bad singers for not being able to cover the other end of the spectrum? nope. so: why would yoongi be a bad vocalist who needs autotune. with lessons, oh man, he could do a lot and many things he dreams of. he has a very unique timbre and enough musical knowledge to do so.

so, we see the magic of your natural supported range. it’s simply given to you. imagine that: if you know you’re not a tenor, you could sort of outsing jungkook — obviously not by technique, but projection— as long as the song is tailored to you and the notes are low enough. yep, jk’s lower register is not extremely forward. each note is perfectly sung because he’s jk, but his power vocals are settled much higher. joon/tae/yoongi would sound much fuller with huge oomph in those lines. that’s where yoongi would be much more clear-sounding to us. a lot of baritone rappers in kpop would be damn good singers.

that’s why it’s good how a lot of rappers produce solos on their own so they can try it out.

you just have to respect that your range usually (not always) goes in one direction. once yoongi rightfully decides to abandon his high note fantasy and goes lower just for fun, we are not safe anymore lmao! exception for range: female singers have an advantage there. trained mezzo-sopranos have great access to the head voice and lower registers since they’re in the perfect middle of the scale. but the guys, forget it, even the baritenors. yoongi’s fullest voice will always be coming from a chesty depth and we love him for it. guy just needs to realize.

that’s why his real challenge is rather somehow tweaking the rap parts so his voice finds good resonance like in “혼술” or even “ddaeng”. where his voice is strong, relaxed, and full and flowing. ddaeng — “boy with luv”, too— is ironically in a very high pitch and again caters to hobi’s tone the most, but: yoongi just scales down to his own octave and it still fits, so — great key choice and musicality! and adaptation. it’s not easy to do. you can tell he plays piano.

he either becomes less easy on the ear or has to autotune himself entirely if he works against his voice. or: goes on a track way outside his supported range (dynamite, WOW). it’s a shame. “daechwita” and “agust d” are such a case: both go into the head voice where your resonance should show the most aka the chorus. there are aggressive belts/snarls/shouts that make more sense for higher, trained voices. yoongi is most famous for raps that are literally designed to fuck up his vocal cords 😷that he’s so skilled as a rapper prevents him from that to a degree, but it’s still not healthy. he adapts a lot to bts’ overall delivery but he doesn’t have to, in fact: he could go in the other direction and it would work even better.

the reason for the title track issue: they are the most energetic. in k-pop, energetic means amping up the pitch. and that’s probably a logical choice and a natural human association. if you make a baritone kpop track with a lot of energy, it probably becomes pretty creepy, uneasy, film noir. but i think that’s exactly yoongi’s thing: to unsettle and critique and rage. i think it could work out. lil nas x is a baritone pulling it off. he achieves energetic title tracks, he honors his vocal type well imo. his live singing is cool af, i need this so hard in the rap landscape. so, it’s not impossible to do.

the trick is probably setting everything to minor key. surprise... yoongi’s challenging title tracks are all in major key. boy with luv: minor key, interesting. the former are extremely difficult for him to do so hats off. “shadow” is more suitable for his baritone as is “burn it”. it needs a very heavy, dark track. which is why it’s good that yoongi has that kind of public image. a baritone’s best genre is not super light and whimsical. that’s why all of our baritone faves are not main vocalists but main rappers. kai, taehyung, jaehyun: low voices in vocal lines are soldiers.

---

now a note on yoongi’s best method of singing since it reflects his voice type and brings out the fullness of it. as in, how does it crack and strain less? guess why “사람” is yoongi’s favorite d-2 song to sing. it’s ALL his comfortable range and the singing — very beautifully done — is in mixed register (= head + chest)! which imo might be his secret weapon. it allows him to do what he longs to do successfuly without going extremely high. bingo.

because: even with baritones, the golden middle is still important. they’re not as deep as a bass, after all. that’s why their voices are so honey-laced in the mixed range and it sounds amazing. heaven, their timbre sounds so seductive. so, it’s wonderful when they find their middle and dare to sing.

i wish yoongi gets/makes more tracks aimed at just that. in “outro tear” he has to go both too low and too high so it takes a lot of production effort to patch it together. the rapline is doing god’s work to make all their voices sound cohesive without being trained singers. it’s always a trade-off and risk, an immense balance act. “paldogangsan” is hard on yoongi’s voice but works as a whole plus it caters to namjoon to carry the song’s message. the cyphers are chopped up and not chart-friendly but each member is in their comfort zone.

PS: i said bts’ rap line covers all registers except one. i think that jin is the one to complete bts’ entire spectrum coming from the vocal line. i’m no whistle note expert but dionysus went pretty high up there, i think he might be able to do it. it’s very impressive, even jungkook and jimin probably don’t have access to that register. so, another point for bts being a very ‘complete’ group.

#anon #ask #cub mail 🐆#vocal analysis #yoongi #suga #bts #baritones #tenors #mixed register #long post

90 notes · View notes

allsassnoclass · 3 years

Note

19 & 57 for the 100 ways to say i love you prompt list? whichever pairing you vibe with for it �� -💙

okay roll with me here blue heart but let me give you some context for this. michael and luke are part of a youth circus. michael is an acrobat. luke is an aerialist. this is part of a larger universe that has not been written yet but this prompt said muke and i've been thinking too much about youth circuses lately. there is not a festival for world circus day yet but if there was. whoo boy. it sure would be something.

muke: “Can I hold your hand?” and " There is enough room for both of us.”

The circus festival is huge.

Logically Michael knew that it would be, since it's the first World Circus Day festival and over 100 circus groups signed up, but it's still shocking to get to the festival space and see all of the people and tents. They've been here for three days already and performed five times, but it's still boggling his mind.

Luke seems equally mystified but a lot more excited, so when he invites Michael to go exploring with him after their morning hand balance routine he accepts eagerly. They've changed out of costume but haven't wiped off their makeup yet, but Luke is bouncing on his toes and already chattering excitedly about all of the other performances and booths they could hit, so Michael decides to forgo the makeup wipes. Besides, Luke looks good in glitter, even if circus makeup is ridiculous and big. Everyone else here is wearing it, so they're not going to stick out or anything.

At least, Michael won't. Luke draws eyes naturally, especially when he's in the air. He's the only aerialist that makes Michael want to stop being so scared of heights.

There are dozens of other performances happening simultaneously around the grounds, but Luke bypasses the offers of maps and a program and dives into the crowd instead. Michael almost loses him immediately in the press of other people, and when he pushes through the bodies and finds Luke again Michael immediately snatches for his hand. Luke startles, but doesn't pull his hand away, and Michael's stomach swoops like it did the first time he truly gained height on the Russian swing.

"Can I hold your hand?" he asks. "It's too crowded. I don't want to get separated."

"Oh," Luke says, face still flushed like it was right after they finished performing. "Yeah, good idea."

He readjusts their grip, threading their fingers together, then tugs Michael forward again.

They find another performance soon enough, some contortionists from Sweden on a platform twisting around each other. They watch for a few minutes, but Luke is still bitter that he's not flexible enough to be a contortionist so they move on quickly. A sword swallower is next, which they watch for longer and with equal parts fascination and disgust. Danger acts like that aren't taught at their school, and Michael wants to look away but can't find it in himself to.

"How does he do that?" he asks. He's not sure if he wants to know.

Luke shrugs. His face is doing something weird, a grimace mixed with curiosity, and they clap enthusiastically when the performer finishes but don't stick around to see what he does next.

Luke takes his hand before they move on. Michael doesn't let himself read into it, because it's still crowded and Michael really doesn't want to get separated.

There's a Capezio tent, so Luke makes them stop because his are wearing out and he wants to see how much variety is here rather than at their local dance store. Michael actually should see about ordering another pair before the fall session starts, but his don't have any holes in them yet so it should be fine. His teeterboard shoes still work and that's all that really matters to him, anyway.

Luke is delighted by the fact that they have more colors than tan, white, and black, but there's not much to see when they're not going to buy anything and they quickly move on.

There's a booth selling cotton candy. Michael immediately buys some and offers Luke a bite. He takes some of the fluff and pops it in his mouth, then complains about how his fingers are sticky from just one touch. For a split second Michael considers doing something ridiculous and gross like offer to lick the sugar off his fingers, but he catches himself and tries not to turn a noticeable shade of red. Thankfully, Luke is already scouting out their next stop.

The next stop happens to be one of the larger tents on the grounds. Luke grabs Michael's hand again and beelines for it, stopping short outside and checking his phone for the time, then the schedule for when the next act will be.

"Come on, we're just in time!" he says, pulling Michael into the tent. He wants to ask what they're just in time for, but the two straps hanging from the ceiling give him a pretty good idea. At least it's not high wire. Michael's heart still hasn't recovered from watching Ashton do that without a net, even though he knows that he had a harness.

"I think I see some spots over there," Luke says, pulling him along again. They pass by other audience members to get to one of the benches near the middle. The woman near the end scoots over a little when she sees them coming and Luke beams.

"Come on, there's enough room for both of us," he says, plopping down. He may be right, but barely. If Michael wants to fully fit on the bench, he has to sit pressed fully against Luke from shoulder to knee.

Luke also hasn't let go of his hand yet, which Michael definitely is still not reading into. Nope. No reading happening here. In fact, Michael is illiterate.

Luke squeezes his hand excitedly when the audience lights dim and the stage lights come up, a voice announcing the performers and country of origin in French, English, and what's probably Russian, given that that's where the performers are from. Luke watches with rapt attention as two men enter the ring, then the music begins and they start their routine, full of lifts, tricks, and impressive displays of strength. If Harry and Louis had been a bit stronger, Michael thinks that the duo straps routine from last year's summer show probably would've looked a little like this. It's impressive, but what's more impressive is the way the stage slight still shimmer off of Luke's makeup and the delighted laugh he gives when the performers do something he hadn't predicted. He's completely reeled in, smile wide and eyes lighting up like fireworks with each trick. Watching his reaction is almost better than watching the performance itself, although Michael would never tell him that. Luke gets offended every time Michael reminds him that aerial acts aren't for everyone.

"Did you see that?" Luke asks excitedly, leaning closer with his eyes fixed on the arena. He glances at Michael and stops when their faces are about an inch away.

"What?" Michael asks.

Luke's smile shifts into something softer.

"I think they're getting to the finale," he says instead of actually replying. "You should pay attention."

He turns his gaze back to the performers, hand flexing in Michael's grip. Michael looks back at the ring where the performers are holding each other up in the air. He still finds himself in tune with Luke's reactions more than the performance, noticing every sharp intake of breath and relaxed exhale when a trick lands.

When the performance ends, Luke finally detaches their hands to clap. Michael tries not to mourn the loss.

"Do you want to keep watching these guys?" Luke asks, leaning close to be heard over the cheering. "I think they have a few more routines, but acrobats from the Chinese State Circus are going to perform at the East Tent soon. I only really wanted to see the straps routine, anyway."

"Do you have the whole festival memorized?" Michael asks.

"Just the things I thought you'd want to see," Luke says. "Also, Lena is here, so Ashton wants all of us to see her German wheel routine and say hi, so we're going to do that in the afternoon."

"Oh," Michael says, still stuck on the fact that Luke specifically looked up the things he thought Michael would like.

"Come on," Luke says, nudging him towards the entrance. "Let's go see the Chinese State Circus."

Once they get outside, Luke takes his hand again.

They pass by a trapeze set up on the way to the East Tent, and Michael's stomach swoops when he looks up and sees the performers so high above them. Luke just continues pulling them forward, though, and Michael thinks that his feelings about heights are no match for the acrobatics his stomach does when Luke glances back and smiles at him.

#my writing #muke #circus school au #the circus school au has an insane amount of research put into it #a ridiculous amount. i have never researched so much. some info was found in slightly questionable ways #anyway. small detail you may have missed: the performer announcmenet is given in french because the world circus org originates in monaco #*world circus federation #so if they ever did a festival for world circus day i assume it would take place there and their national language is french #the actual story for this au is a larry fic i just have not written it yet despite having been brainstorming since 2019 #anyway here i am posting something for the first time in what feels like five years! huzzah i guess!#blue heart anon #blue heart i hope you like this i hope you don't mind my very specific au that caters only to me

12 notes · View notes

ask-those-dumbasses · 4 years

Text

Battle Tactic Analysis (for the comic): Part 2

Yes I'm still thinking about this stfu.

GEORGENOTFOUND

George is. Inch resting. He’s somehow the most cautious and the least cautious of the main group. While he’s the only one that carries an actual shield, he can also be stubborn and impatient at times. Doesn't help that Sapnap loves to push his buttons.

However, in his prime, George is actually pretty logical and smart. He’s constantly trying out new strategies and likes figuring out new tricks with Dream. He wants to figure out how he can improve, and does so constantly. In a fight George switches between his sword and shield. Bock, hit, move, block, hit, move. While this is very predictable and relatively common, George makes up for it with little surprises.

One of those surprises is his dragon, Georgette! Though he doesn't use her in battle much (because you know, she baby and George doesn't want her to get hurt), if he does, she sticks to the skys. Georgette blasts her target with small fireballs on command, and can drop items from above. George also has three little robot drones that can assist with battle. They have tiny little blasters and cameras. This way, if they need to check a room to see if it’s safe before running in, they have little helpers! How cute! If only some people coughSapnapcoughSkeppycough remembered they existed. His goggles also alert him to possible dangers he might not be able to see, and can analyze his opponent to find a weak point to stab at. Basically, George has a bunch of little gadgets.

Overall, George is a very well balanced member of the team, who provides great support and coverage. If only people listened to him more often.

BADBOYHALO

“Bad’s a sweet little muffin he wouldn’t hurt a fly! uwu” Get that shit out of here. He wouldn’t hurt a fly because they don’t do anything wrong. But if anyone so much as looks at Skeppy the wrong way, he will maim them. Bad is surprisingly one of the most deadly and also one of the few who thinks of a plan before he acts, most of the time… more on that later.

If Bad is anything, it’s aware. He’s very aware of the battlefield, in fact he kinda has to be. His shadow travel is his best weapon and he uses it a lot. He can travel between areas to help his friends, appear behind enemies, or get out of a sticky situation. Because of this, Bad’s tactics change depending on the environment and what his team needs at the moment. For example, in a big open field Bad would simply appear behind his enemy and provide support for his allies. Meanwhile, in a densely packed forest, Bad sneak through the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Bad’s fighting style is almost a mix between a ballet dancer and fencing, similar to Dream but a lot more… acrobatic. Bad is very flowy and swift, much like the flicker of a flame in the wind. He’ll use his thread to attach to something and fly through the air, or to throw his needle at the enemy and pull it back. Sometimes, if the environment is right, he’ll trail his thread behind him to trip up enemies, or to circle his enemy to tie them up. Bad is a man of many tricks, but sadly he’s very light sensitive, which can throw him off. Now it’s time to take that pin out from earlier.

--> Remember that thing I said we’d talk about? Here it is. Bad’s shadow form.

Bad’s shadow form is… completely different. Pure animalistic instincts to attack and protect. He lashes out in anger, biting, scratching, bashing, killing, whatever is in his way. Keep in mind, Bad does not enter this form voluntarily. It only happens when Bad gets so enraged, he cannot control his actions. It’s not even really Bad anymore. Bad would never hurt his friends. His shadow form is another story.

But at then end of the day, if all else fails, Bad will probably just throw muffins at his opponent until they leave him alone.

SKEPPY

Skeppy is another fighter who uses rush tactics. He runs straight into the fight without much thought at all. Skeppy goes in and haphazardly hits anywhere he can. This is… confusing to say the least. It’s hard to hit an unpredictable target. If Skeppy doesn't know what he’s doing next, then how can anyone else? He has no method. Maybe an unconscious pattern, but not anything intentional. The only time he has a plan is when someone else orders him to.

Because of this, Skeppy is very good at adapting. If a situation changes, it doesn’t take him long to recover. He might be a bit shocked, but he’s back on his feet and ready to fight. However, this also means that Skeppy is very brash, and can panic and trip up easily. Plus, when Skeppy gets hit, he will snap like a twig. Just ask Techno.

Just as you’d expect,Skeppy sometimes uses “trolly” methods, if he uses one at all. While I made the joke of Skeppy’s favorite weapon being a lava bucket, that part isn’t entirely true. Mostly because that’s very inconvenient most of the time. No no no, Skeppy uses smoke bombs. Dark blue tnt shaped smoke bombs. Where’s he getting them? That’s what the group has been trying to figure out for the past 5 years. What does he use them for? What do you think?

Skeppy is also the biggest distraction. If they need a distraction, it’s Skeppy. It’s always Skeppy. Because the slippery bastard can get out of many tight situations, they don’t need to worry too much about him. Bad always does though. :3

More coming soonish maybe. Leave suggestions in the comments! Also, this came out sooner thanks to the people in my Discord server! Join us if you'd like!

#not an ask #gerogenotfound #dream team #badboyhalo fanart #badboyhalo #saintsofgames #skeppy #skeppy fanart #analysis #battle tactics

138 notes · View notes

rexisnotyourwriter · 3 years

Photo

by @rexalexander and @postcardsanddaydreaming

After the Atlanta child murders, the Behavioral Science Unit is as busy as ever. With a new team member by their side, they take on what feels like a growing number of active serial killers as well as continue their interviews of already incarcerated subjects. Bill tries to track down Nancy and Brian with the hopes of repairing his marriage, while Wendy tries to take on a more active role in their research with an eager budding protégé at her side.

Read on AO3

*If you enjoy this, please like/reblog on tumblr and/or leave kudos/comments on AO3. Your feedback helps keep fic writers writing.*

Notes: As always, thanks to my beta fish @hardythehermitcrab

Chapter 2: Feeling Like a Loner

The bell rang. The class full of children emptied in a flurry of squeals. The teacher breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped when she noticed she wasn’t alone. A pair of mousy braids sat by the window watching her peers spill out into the playground like ants under a log. They scattered, dispersing themselves amongst the jungle gym, the hopscotch marked concrete, and the small patch of grass they called a field.

The teacher softly called her name.

They’d had this conversation before, usually ending with her forfeiting her smoke break to stay in the classroom.

The girl didn’t turn around.

“You have to go outside today,” she added. “It’s a beautiful day. And look at those clouds. I think that one looks like a cow.”

The girl didn’t move.

“Sweetie.” The teacher put a hand on her shoulder. The girl finally turned to face her. “Why don’t you go outside, hmm?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it’s fun. Look. Look at all the fun they’re having.”

The girl looked back out the window and contemplated.

“That doesn’t look fun to me,” she concluded, matter-of-factly.

“You need to go outside today.”

“Why?”

“Because teachers need a break, too, and I can’t supervise you in here,” she responded bluntly.

“Oh,” the girl replied. “Okay.”

She got up from her seat and grabbed her neatly folded cardigan from the cubby.

Once outside, she found a good vantage point - a mostly flat rock at the edge of the field where she can see most of the schoolyard.

A group of boys were playing jacks. They’d made it to foursies, from what she could tell. Another boy hovered around them asking to join, but they ignored him.

The girl turned away from them and took a rubber ball out of the front pocket of her overalls. She bounced it against the ground on her own. Then, she turned back to the boys, still steadily bouncing her ball. She watched. When the time was right, she launched her ball into their game, knocking the jacks out of a boy’s hand. They yelled. She caught her ball without missing a beat.

The girl smiled, then turned her attention to the jungle gym. Almost ten children were winding their bodies between the bars, some resting on levels, others climbing to the highest perch. The few children in the center looked like they were imprisoned. An acrobatic cage. One boy made it to the top, or rather almost. His feet were on the second highest bars, his hands on the highest. He put one foot up on the high bar and tested his balance, releasing the pressure on his other grounded foot. His hand slipped, but he got his grip in time to only suffer a minor embarrassment (one of his friends saw, and proceeded to laugh). The boy climbed down after that.

She looked down at her cream colored Mary Janes and tapped her toes together. In the corner of her eye, inching toward her, was a remarkably fuzzy caterpillar. It bobbed up and down like a wave, growing closer and closer to the shore of her shoe.

“I got it,” someone yelled.

Then thud.

The caterpillar disappeared under a grass stained sneaker belonging to the boy who “got it”. “It” was a rubber ball, and the boy she recognized as the one whose turn at jacks was interrupted.

He ran back to his friends, taking no notice of her or his victim. The insect, upon inspection, hadn’t been entirely crushed, and was still wriggling. She gingerly scooped it up with a sturdy leaf and rested it in one hand while she cupped her other around it like a shield. She watched it writhe with increasing intensity, then intermittently, then not at all.

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

On the following Monday morning, Bill was surprised to see that he had beat Holden in to work.

He poked his head in Wendy’s office.

“Captain America not in yet?”

“No,” she replied, barely looking up from the page in front of her.

“Maybe he finally got lucky,” Bill joked.

He got a smirk out of her that time.

Bill turned around and, seeing that Gregg was preoccupied with a phone call, didn’t bother closing the door.

“I’m going up to talk to Gunn,” he said softly.

“Good.” She paused. “Do you know what you’re going to tell him?”

“Marital problems.”

Wendy nodded her approval.

Gregg’s voice got louder from the hallway.

“Is he still on the phone?” Wendy asked.

Bill turned to confirm. “Yup.”

Wendy closed her file.

“This is ridiculous. We can’t be expected to assist in every single murder case across the country. We can’t even keep up with the inquiries.”

“What did Gunn say?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I haven’t really mentioned it, not explicitly. He’s not exactly receptive to my ideas. Knowing him, he would probably ask why Gregg was the one dealing with it and suggest I take over secretarial duties.”

“He’s not that bad, is he?”

Wendy’s eyes flicked up at him. Her look said it all.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bill decided. “Tell him we need to hire someone.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

Holden speed walked into the office, his forehead glistening with sweat.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bill greeted.

Wendy got up from her desk and joined Bill in the doorway.

“Sorry,” Holden muttered breathlessly.

“Is everything alright?” Wendy asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. I had to take the bus, but I forgot my wallet at home and…It’s been a morning.”

“How’s your car?”

“What happened to your car?” Bill interjected.

Holden, still exasperated, dropped his briefcase on the desk with a thud.

“It wouldn’t start when I went to leave the bar on Friday, so Wendy gave me a ride home.”

Bill threw a side-eyed glance at Wendy who wrinkled her nose in subtle disgust.

No, Bill.

“I got it towed to the shop on Saturday,” Holden continued, “but it wasn’t a dead battery. Turns out I need a new timing belt, and they couldn’t get one in until today. I have to pick it up in a couple hours because they close early, and when I called this morning it still wasn’t ready, which is why I had to take the bus. Hence…” He gestured to his state of disarray and exhaled.

“Happy Monday,” Wendy said before disappearing back into her office.

Bill got roped into a case that delayed his plan to talk to Gunn. It was almost 11am before he was finally able to go upstairs. Nearly 23 minutes later, Bill returned to the basement where Holden and Wendy appeared to be waiting for him. The pair looked at him expectantly.

“It went fine,” Bill admitted. “He gave me some sympathy about ‘the old ball and chain’ and poured me a finger of whiskey. As long as we stay on track and deliver, we’re good.”

“That’s great, Bill,” Holden said.

“And Gunn agreed about hiring an assistant,” Bill added, to Wendy’s relief. “A non-agent, but someone who can deal with the sensitive matter. He said he would talk to you about it.”

Wendy’s face dropped.

“Why me?”

Bill opened his mouth to explain, but stopped. He couldn’t find the right words.

She understood.

“Of course,” she added bitterly. Because I’m the woman.

Sometimes she missed Boston.

“Oh, shoot,” Holden exclaimed, noticing the time. “I gotta go.”

“Did you send that profile to Osborn?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I just faxed it over,” he replied, already halfway out the door.

“Kids,” Bill joked, shaking his head.

“So, how’d it really go?” Wendy inquired.

“It really did go fine,” he replied sincerely. “Better than expected, honestly.”

“But?”

Bill sat on the edge of the desk.

“I guess I still feel…uneasy about the situation with Brian. How would it look if the FBI found out my kid was involved in a murder.”

“But he wasn’t, Bill. They concluded he wasn’t responsible. It’s on the record.”

“I know. And I know that logically he thought the cross was a good idea,” he admitted. “I just don’t feel good about it. And now I can’t even keep an eye on him. I don’t know if he’s still wetting the bed. Or if he’s started sucking his thumb again, or if he’s spoken at all.”

Wendy offered him a sympathetic smile.

“From what you’ve told me, it seems likely that the regressions are a result of the traumatic experience. Nothing more.”

“I just feel so helpless.”

They sat in silence, neither knowing what else to say.

“If there’s anything I can do,” Wendy offered.

“Thanks. Really. I’m glad you’re around.”

Bill got up to leave.

Wendy passed by the fax machine on the way back to her office and picked up the pages of the profile Holden faxed to Alaska. She scanned the page, then stopped.

That little-

There was a knock.

“All by your lonesome, Dr. Carr?”

“Not anymore,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

She turned around to see Gunn standing in the doorway.

“I don’t know if Bill had a chance to mention it to you,” he said, making his way over to her.

“He did.”

“Good. HR has a standard secretary job posting. I’ll have them send it your way and you can let them know if there’s anything to be added. I trust you to select the applicants and conduct the interviews, but I need to sign off on the hire.”

“Isn’t this something that HR can handle on their own?”

“They don’t know what it’s like in the BSU. The intricacies of your operations. You’re the expert on that.”

She straightened her posture and folded her arms.

“You were involved in hiring Agent Smith, weren’t you?” he added, taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.

“Yes, but that was different,” she explained. “He’s actively involved in our work.”

“And so will the woman you hire.” She fought hard not to roll her eyes. “I thought you’d want to have a hand in who joins this team, Dr. Carr.”

“That’s -” she started, then stopped.

She took a breath.

“I feel that my time would be better spent focusing on our research,” she explained.

“And this is part of that,” Gunn stated confidently. “Everything that happens in this basement is. And beyond. All the cogs in the machine have to be well oiled and working together.”

His tone was final and his feet were already headed towards the door.

“Let me know if you haven’t gotten anything by the end of the week,” he added, already halfway out the door.

The phone rang, as if on cue.

She walked away, letting the sound echo in the empty room.

Wendy was in the break room getting her third coffee of the day when Holden returned from his errand.

“Hey, is there enough left for me?” he asked, preemptively grabbing a paper cup.

Wendy continued pouring coffee into her cup until the pot was empty. Holden looked at her cup, full to the brim. She picked it up carefully and took a sip from the top, looking Holden square in the eyes, before walking past him back to the office.

He stood there for a few seconds, stunned, before following her.

“Hey,” he called, just as she was about to enter her office.

Wendy turned around, unimpressed.

“Did I miss something?” Holden asked.

She was amused by his question, but not happy.

“Yes, Holden,” she said with more than a hint of condescension. “You missed a significant portion of my professional opinion in the Alaska profile.”

He thought for a moment, trying to remember what she could have been referring to.

“The military thing?” Her look confirmed his guess. “I thought we agreed he didn’t fit the military description.”

“I very clearly stated that it was very likely he did work at the air base.”

“Yes, but then I said I disagreed and you dropped it, so-”

“So, you took that to mean I conceded.”

“Well…”

She’d had it.

Gregg, who took notice of their dispute, removed his headphones to spectate properly, albeit discreetly.

“Look,” Holden said in a softer voice. “I don’t want to argue.”

“If you can’t tell the difference between a rational discussion and an argument-”

“Do you want me to call them?” he interrupted. “Tell them we made a mistake and we’ll send a new assessment?”

Wendy weighed this option briefly.

“No,” she concluded. “The damage is done. It won’t look good if we change our mind unless we’ve been presented with new information.”

Holden exhaled loudly. She stared him down. It didn’t appear that he’d learned this lesson.

“What’s done is done,” she added.

She retired to her office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Gregg looked up at Holden. Holden stared back, trying to think of something to say. His mind drew a blank, and he walked away, shaking his head.

The first thing Wendy did when she got home was pour herself the remainder of her bottle of Pinot Gris. It filled her glass well past the acceptable half-way point, but who was there to judge her.

The second thing she did was check her answering machine. She always tried to do it casually - just a quick glance - as if someone might be watching and think she was neurotic. The little red bulb was dark, as it always was. It seemed like a silly purchase now, slowly gathering dust like her love life.

She took a large sip of wine and opened the fridge. It was sparse. There was half a carton of eggs, an opened container of hummus, a three inch block of cheddar, and a nearly empty carton of milk next to a half full carton of orange juice. The crisper contained a bruised apple, two oranges, and a few stalks of celery.

Unmoved by her options, Wendy opened the cupboard only to find a bag of dried apricots where there would normally be cans of tuna. She once again opened the fridge and took out the cheese, an orange, and two of the celery stalks. From the cupboard, she took out the dried apricots as well as a box of crackers from the one next to it. She sliced the cheese and arranged it carefully on a plate next to a matching number of crackers. Next to the crackers was the celery, cut into sticks, followed by orange wedges and a handful of dried apricots completing the circle. She scribbled down “tuna” and “milk” on the notepad pinned to the fridge before bringing her dinner to the living room.

Wendy settled into her usual chair, curled her feet up, and turned on the television. It was quarter to the hour, right in the middle of any half-hour show and too near the end of a full hour program. She flicked channels through twice before stopping on an episode of Wheel of Fortune, which promptly went to a commercial break.

She took a bite of one of the celery sticks only to find it bitter. It hadn’t looked spoiled from the outside, but it’s hard to tell sometimes. She tossed the stick back onto her plate and grabbed an apricot to cleanse her palate. Much better.

A man from Sarasota made it to the final round, but couldn’t guess the puzzle. Wendy got it in four seconds. When the episode ended, she turned off the television and brought her briefcase back to her chair. She pulled out the file she brought home on John Wayne Gacy. The Killer Clown.

Gacy’s mug shot was more unique than most. He was looking away from the camera, off to the side, and smiling. It was as if he was having a pleasant conversation with one of the officers when they snapped his picture. He didn’t look nice per se, however he wasn’t glistening with sweat. This wasn’t surprising though, considering he admitted he knew he was going to be arrested. And he confessed willingly, although it was only after police had found the remains in his crawl space.

Wendy read through the details of the first convicted murder, Timothy McCoy - formerly known as the “Greyhound Bus Boy”. Gacy had left a family party to go look at a display of ice sculptures, then decided to lure the 16-year-old to his car from the Chicago Greyhound Bus Terminal. He was on his way to Omaha from Nebraska. Gacy drove him around Chicago, showed him the sights, then back to his house where he told McCoy he could stay the night. He even offered him a ride to the station in the morning in time to catch his next bus. According to Gacy, he woke up early in the morning to see McCoy standing in his bedroom doorway with a knife. Gacy got out of bed and charged at McCoy, who raised his hands in surrender, still holding the knife. It cut Gacy’s arm in the panic. Gacy, who was much larger than McCoy, wrestled the knife from him and banged his head against the wall. Gacy kicked him multiple times. He wrestled him to the ground, straddled him, and stabbed him repeatedly. Then, Gacy claims he cleaned the knife in the bathroom. When he went into the kitchen, he found an open carton of eggs and a slab of bacon, unsliced, on the table, which was set for two.

This poor boy just wanted to make him breakfast, as a thank you, and he died for it. All because he didn’t leave the knife in the kitchen.

Wendy swirled the remainder of her drink in her glass, then held her hand steady and watched the wine continue to swirl and splash around the curves, briefly gaining momentum before slowing to a soft ripple.

Maybe Gacy would have killed him anyways. Maybe he never meant to drive him to the station that morning. Maybe McCoy was always meant to end up in Gacy’s crawl space, covered in concrete.

She took a sip and turned the page.

#op*#mindhunter #mindhunteredit #mindhunter fic #a tide in a city #wendy carr #bill tench #holden ford #ted gunn #gregg smith

27 notes · View notes