#(also i originally posted this with a shit quality image so you’re welcome now)

[spiral2005]

legendary cookiedroid who calls you mean names and empties your bank account

#cookie run #cookiedroid #circuit art moment #so...i’m lowkey a bit embarrassed of this hahaha #but it did well on twitter for some ungodly reason so i’ll post it here too for good measure #(also i originally posted this with a shit quality image so you’re welcome now)

[largedenominationsplease]

you’d come over, right?

Summary: A year after Kiara and JJ broke up, they come home to the Outer Banks to deal with one of the hardest years of their lives.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, canon-compliant smoking, au, minor character death, cancer, current events

A/N: Alternate Universe: JJ and Kiara dated seriously for a long while, but over a year before this story, they parted ways. Set in present-day with current events, but most current events are only mentioned briefly for context. All characters aged 21+. Partially inspired by If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe and Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi and current events and Sad Feels™ and a sad playlist my sister made. Come cry with me... also on ao3

Shoutout to @alexandracheers​ for proofreading <3

Sometimes even the most beautiful things die. It’s the sad cycle of life. 

It starts with a spark, a first touch, a first look, a first kiss; 

a few embers of warmth, holding hands, secret glances, flirty texts; 

the roaring flames of passion, clinging to one another, leaving the party early, tangled limbs and tangled sheets; 

then the steady heat of a well-tended fire, cozy mornings making coffee, binging your favorite shows, texting to see how your day is. 

But, sometimes, even the most loved and cared for fires die. They go out with little warning or reason. What was a welcome flame in the hearth one night may be a bed of ash by morning. 

Their fire died a long time ago. It wasn’t anyone’s fault - no one was trying to douse the flames - it just went out. When they sat down and discussed breaking up - parting ways was a more apropos term - she hadn’t even cried. When he packed up and moved out, it was unceremonious. He even kissed her forehead as he left, like he’d done a hundred times before, only this time he wasn’t coming back. 

She still dreamed about him. Sometimes unbidden images of picket fences and a dog and home-cooked meals and potted plants intruded upon her thoughts. Once, when her period was late, she’d even dreamt of a curly-haired little boy with blue eyes - which was ridiculous because she was very single at the time. Did she even want to have kids?

He thought about her, too. Each new destination she traveled to brought new Instagram posts and awakened an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite place. That ache deepened when she revisited places they had gone together - unwanted memories flooding his senses. The smell of coconut still sent him spinning, missing the feeling of running his fingers through her hair, over the smooth skin of her arms and legs. 

What hurt so badly about their fire dying wasn’t that it died. What hurt was that it should never have died; that it died so quietly and suddenly; that one day it was there, burning bright, and the next it was a cold gray heap of coals. 

Even their friends were surprised when he moved back home. “Where is she?” and “What happened?” and “We had no idea you had any problems.”

Followed by the futile response of, “It was just time to move on.”

And they did move on, eventually. She traveled to forget and perhaps after a few months she could call herself truly happy - though there was always an ache of not having someone to share each experience with. He stayed at home, but he opened his own business and the familiarity of home soothed any wounds he sustained. Their fire might have gone out, but they kept the bed of ash in the fireplace, a shrine to what they once had, and it was more comforting than sad after a time. 

When the virus first hit, she’d been back in the states, on the West Coast. She messaged him:

Are you safe? Still have a job? Anyone sick?

Fine for now. You?

Fine.

When the protesting started, he knew she’d be in the thick of it. Not that he didn’t get involved, he just knew her passion for people and justice. He messaged her back this time:

You’re protesting, aren’t you? Are you safe?

Of course! But I’m being careful. You?

Staying safe. Protesting here, too. 

Hurricane Isaias wasn’t meant to be a bad storm, but she had still tracked it up the East Coast. Her suspicions were confirmed when it intensified.

Isaias didn’t wipe y’all out, did it?

No, blew through pretty quick. The Cut took a hit. Gonna take some time to fix it up. 

At first, after reading the headlines about the fires out west, he thought it was a joke. As they spread, he realized how serious it was and it worried him. 

You evacuated, right? The air quality is shit where you are. 

Yep. Gonna take a pandemic-friendly tour of some national parks further east.

Every new development meant more messages sent. Simple little check-ins that meant nothing and everything. It was a scary year the world faced, and even after all those months apart, the only thing they wanted was to find comfort in one another’s safety. On opposite ends of the country, the two of them tied together by current events and the memory of their relationship. 

Mid-September, while she was traveling away from the fires on the West Coast, he got a call from her mother. He hadn’t spoken to her mother much since they had broken up, over a year ago, but she still liked his Instagram posts and struck up conversations when she saw him around town. 

“Hey, Mrs. Anna.”

“Hi, JJ. I’ve told you, it’s just Anna.” Her voice was soft and as kind as ever, but held an edge of tiredness and strain he hadn’t heard from her before. “We have some… tough news, and we wanted you to hear it from us first.”

Colon cancer…

Kiara’s hearing faded into white noise as her mother spoke those words to her through the phone. Her mother went on to explain that even though they caught it late, the doctors were optimistic that her father would make a recovery. Treatments were set to start right away. 

“Mom, I’m coming home.”

“Honey, we know you’ve got traveling plans. We’ll be fine. We don’t want to interrupt your-”

“Mom, I can’t do much traveling with this virus. Dad is more important than any of that, anyway. I’m coming home.”

JJ cried when Anna hung up the phone. Mike was rough around the edges, and he was resistant to Kiara dating a Maybank, but once JJ won him over, he treated him like a son. Hearing this news was a punch to the gut - it was like losing a father. Even in the midst of his sadness he knew Kiara would be sent into a tailspin.

Hey. You okay?

She was typing in response, then nothing. He waited, seeing the little bubble pop up again and again and fade away each time. And then she videocalled. She hadn’t called him in months - not since they parted ways. The little screen showed her in her car, only illuminated by her dim phone screen and the passing street lights. Tears stained her cheeks, but she kept her eyes trained on the road. “I’m not okay.”

“You’re driving right now?”

“I’m coming home.”

“Kiara, pull over. It’s late. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t. They caught it late - he might… who knows how much time I have-”

“Kie.” His voice was soft. He was always soft toward her.

Her face crumpled as the tears fell fresh. He let her cry. He talked to her about nothing and everything as her tears subsided. She cried as she drove through the night, talking to him when she was calm, crying harder when the conversation lulled. She didn’t stop until she noticed he’d fallen asleep, the video call still rolling. It was after four in the morning. The pang of nostalgia that tore through her was enough to make her catch her breath. They hadn’t talked like that since they first started dating. A few tears sneaked out of the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t tell if the memories or the fear of the future caused them. She found a safe place to park and fell into a fitful sleep in the back of her car. 

She made it home just in time for her dad’s first surgery. JJ met her and her mother at the hospital parking lot, all masks and six-feet of distance until she said, “I could really use a hug.” The three of them colliding into a group hug within seconds. 

JJ made sure the Carreras didn’t need anything as Mike went through chemo and more and more hospital stays. He ran errands for them since none of them could risk going out and bringing anything home. He did yard work since Mike hated an unkept lawn. Kiara always made sure to leave him snacks and drinks on the back deck as the North Carolina heat stretched into October. Aside from that, he willingly put himself at Anna’s beck and call. Anything and everything she needed done, he jumped at the opportunity to help. He would even come over in the evenings to play cards with Mike - masks included. Kiara’s heart ached as she watched her parents get along with him so well. She hadn’t realized how far he had wormed his way into their little family, but here they were, acting as though nothing had changed between him and their daughter, loving him like a son. He praised her mom’s cooking until she blushed and there were times he could make her dad laugh so hard they all forgot for a moment that cancer existed. Those moments were fleeting and oh-so cherished. 

Mike deteriorated quickly. It made Kiara sick to see her father become a cancer-wasted shell of himself. As optimistic as the doctors had been originally, the treatments weren’t taking well. As chemo wrapped up, his numbers were still dangerously high. November brought another emergency surgery that confirmed their worst fears. Mike moved home. They were told all that was left was to manage the pain and make him as comfortable as they could. They had perhaps a month left. JJ moved into the guest room to be as close as possible in case anything was needed from him. The four of them were left waiting as Thanksgiving approached. 

Kiara wasn’t sleeping. Maybe it was knowing her ex-boyfriend was staying down the hall from her, though that was an odd thing to focus on. More likely, it was the fact that her father was passing away right before her eyes, slipping through her fingers as she stood by, helpless. The sun had set hours ago, and she sat with a now-cold cup of tea in front of her at the kitchen table, mulling over each crazy event that had led her to this point. 

JJ wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge to inspect the contents. “What are you doing up so late?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The words came out harsher than she had intended, but then again, she was exhausted in every single sense of the term.

JJ brushed off her roughness. “Hungry. Did you eat dinner?” He knew she hadn’t, so he set about making an extra sandwich.

After a few moments of silence, Kiara whispered, “It’s all my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s my fault,” she repeated, her lip trembling. “I always kept track of his appointments for him. He was always shit at remembering to go to the doctor. He should have had one last year, but I didn’t come home and I didn’t remind him. If I hadn’t broken up with you, I would have been here to remind him to go.” Tears shone in her eyes and on her cheeks.

JJ gave her a quizzical look, deciphering what she was saying. “I seem to recall being the one who left. But really none of this is anyone’s fault,” he kept his voice even, wanting nothing more than to hug her, to wipe away all the tears, and make sure she never had to shed another one again.

“I know, I know, it’s ridiculous, but it’s what keeps running through my head.” She reached up and readjusted the messy bun that her hair was falling out of. “But, for the record, I asked you to leave.” JJ raised an eyebrow as she said this, as though he didn’t believe her. The truth was, neither of them really remembered who had dumped who or why he had left in the first place. Nothing happened that they couldn’t work out with a little bit of effort. “Didn’t I?” she faltered.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“We just fought a lot, didn’t we?”

“Constantly. You were a bitch.”

She turned to him, mouth open. She slapped at his shoulder, “I know you did not just call me a bitch, bitch!”

He smirked at her. “Maybe you weren’t that bad. Apparently, I was a slob.”

“You are a slob,” she chuckled. Then she sighed and moved to heat up her tea. “But that’s no reason to dump someone. We just… fell out of love, I guess.”

“I didn’t.” His voice was so soft he was barely even sure he had spoken. Based on the way Kiara froze, her back tense, he’d definitely said those private thoughts aloud.

She turned slowly, her face pale with lack of sleep and - something else. Was that anger? Or sadness? “You’ve had more than a year to confess something like that to me, and you choose now?”

JJ shrugged helplessly, unsure of what to say.

“That was the issue all along, wasn’t it?” Kiara’s voice shook, but she kept her tone cool, even. “You wouldn’t communicate with me.”

“Oh, come on, Kie, that’s not fair.” It was too late for a fight. They were both tired and emotional. This wouldn’t end well.

“What’s not fair?” Her voice had started to rise in volume and pitch as her anger increased. She wasn’t even sure why she was angry in the first place, but something about JJ’s confession caused her blood to boil. “The fact that you didn’t admit you still loved me when you left over a year ago? Or the fact that you choose to admit that to me while I’m exhausted and emotionally compromised?”

“Don’t be like that! That’s not what I’m doing.” JJ tried to keep his voice lower than hers, so they wouldn’t wake Mike or Anna, but the way her eyes flashed told him that wouldn’t happen. He grabbed her bicep and led her out to the backyard.

“Let go of me!” She pulled away from him, trying to hide the shiver that ran up her spine in the cool November evening air. “You don’t get to manhandle me and manipulate me into falling back into your arms like nothing happened.”

“That’s not-“ JJ ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “You know I’m shit at communicating this stuff.”

“At saying ‘I love you?’ At being emotionally present? Listen, I know your dad was fucked up and he fucked you up, but you’re a grown-ass man now. You could have learned how to be there for me!”

“Don’t bring him into this!” They’d had this fight a million times before. The recurring theme of their demise being communication. Their fire had been sputtering under the faulty system they had in place long before they realized what their problems were - it was something neither of them wanted to admit. “Fuck it, Kie, even if I had wanted to get any better at communicating, you were no help. You held every single one of my mistakes over my head. There was no road to redemption for you.”

“No, no that’s not true. I tried to help you-“

“Only telling me what I did wrong wasn’t helpful.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, stuttering in anger. “Well… if you still loved me so much, why did you leave?”

“Why stay when I knew you didn’t love me anymore?” JJ’s voice dropped and he avoided eye contact with her. 

Her eyes grew wide in realization. “You know what? Fuck you! I loved you until the day you left. If I had known you weren’t coming back I would have fought harder to keep you with me, and if you’re too dense to see-” He cut her words off, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her roughly. She melted into him, a single tear squeezing itself from her eye. He tasted of a coconut flavored vape pod and nicotine and the sea. He was just as stupid and lovely as ever. It only lasted a moment before she shoved at his chest, clearing her throat and turning from him to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. 

“I’m… I’m seeing someone,” she muttered by way of explanation.

“Oh.” JJ licked his lips, missing her more than he had before he kissed her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know. Who is it? Why aren’t they here?” He hadn’t meant to add that last part, but he was curious. Who could she be seeing that wouldn’t support her during all of this? Who could she want to be with that wasn’t there, like he was?

“Um, her name’s Fern. I asked her not to come. I didn’t want her to meet my dad this way.” She started to walk toward the door, wrapping her arms around herself in the cold November evening air. 

“Kie,” JJ called after her. She turned slightly, to catch his eye out of the corner of her own. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything… I fucked a lot of things up. And I’m sorry about your dad.”

She nodded. “Me too.” With everything, she added mentally, and he knew she had.

Kiara and JJ wordlessly promised each other that they wouldn't let their differences ruin the upcoming holidays. So Thanksgiving passed uneventfully. It was almost a normal Carrera family holiday, besides the fact that Anna and JJ did most of the cooking. Mike tried once or twice to wander into the kitchen, but he didn’t make it long before having to sit back down. Kiara made him comfortable on the couch and they watched what little football was playing. She was sure to commentate on each play alongside him. The four of them ate extreme amounts of food, and laughed and played games. “Tomorrow we go get our Christmas tree,” Mike announced at the end of the night. Kiara bit her lip and glanced at JJ. He shrugged half-heartedly.

“That’s right, baby,” Anna replied, looking meaningfully at the others. 

And they did. They didn’t travel to the mountains, like other years, but they did go down to the local tree lot. Kiara made a big fuss about finding the fattest tree and over-scrutinized each one until she found the perfect Christmas tree, just like always. JJ had spent holidays with the Carrera’s before, but he had never been so intimately involved in all of their traditions. He thought Christmas might just become his favorite holiday at this rate. 

The weeks leading to Christmas weren’t all smooth sailing. Just a few days after Thanksgiving Mike was confined almost exclusively to a hospital bed in the living room. A nurse moved in a few days after that. He slept fitfully if he slept at all, and most days, the pain (or the pain medication) kept him from interacting with the rest of them. Kie would read to him in the evenings, starting with A Christmas Carol. He fell asleep after only a few paragraphs each time, so it took a long while to get through the story. All four of them watched classic Christmas movie after classic Christmas movie - many of which JJ hadn’t ever seen (to which Anna always replied, “That’s going on our list, then!”). Mike managed to stay awake for the entirety of Elf, his favorite. 

Christmas day was quiet. JJ cooked breakfast for everyone, and Anna gushed about how good his cooking had gotten. They had opted not to exchange gifts this holiday, instead filling their stockings with all their favorite candies and snacks. It had been JJ’s idea, and Kiara thought he might have been a secret genius for suggesting it. In the afternoon, Fern called Kie and they talked for over an hour. JJ thought she looked satisfied when she returned, but nowhere near as happy as one should be when they got off a long conversation with their girlfriend. It was probably just the current circumstances. She didn’t say anything other than, “What’s the next movie, Dad?”

Mike died two days after Christmas. He went in his sleep, which was exactly what he had wanted. No fuss, no doctors trying desperately to save him. Just a good night’s sleep where he peacefully breathed his last. He didn’t look the same as he once had. Cancer had changed him so drastically, his once strong imposing frame a mere shadow of its former glory. But his face was smoothed out, lines of pain, grief, and illness wiped away, leaving simply peace. He could have been asleep, but now he would never wake up. Looking at him, Kiara felt like she was drowning. Like every breath she fought to take just filled her lungs with more and more water. Her dad was her rock, and now she was sinking in a wide, dark ocean. She thought she might never breathe again. 

The funeral was tiny - it was only close family that attended - three days after he passed. The sky was clear and blue and the air was cold, typical North Carolina winter. It had snowed the day before, just a bit, so the ground was frozen and white. It could have been beautiful if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. Anna didn’t cry that day. She said she had cried enough. The snow started falling again that evening, once they got home, and she said that was Mike’s way of telling her he loved her. She loved the snow.  

JJ went back home the day after the New Year. Anna told him to stay as long as he wanted, but he said it was time for him to move on. She understood, hugged him tightly before he went, admonishing him to come around often. He said he would, and promised to help with anything she needed around the house, too. Kiara sat huddled on the front porch in a rocking chair, wrapped in a thick blanket with a cup of hot cocoa as he walked out. “You’re not going to say goodbye?” he teased kindly. 

She looked up at him, her eyes still bloodshot and sorrowful. He wanted to hold her. He wished she had never had to go through any of this. She didn’t deserve it. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “You’ve done so much for us.”

JJ shook his head. “It was selfish. I thought if I was nearby maybe it wouldn’t happen.”

“It was anything but selfish,” She insisted, standing up and wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She placed a cold hand on his cheek. “Really, J. We couldn’t have made it through any of this without you.”

JJ might have leaned too deeply into her touch, no matter how cold her hands were. It somehow felt colder when she moved away. He cleared his throat. “So what’re your plans now? Getting back on the road?”

“Not until spring. Mom won’t admit it, but she’s not ready to be alone. She’ll need some help coping. And honestly, I’m not itching to leave.”

“I thought you’d wanna skip out as soon as possible. Doesn’t Fern miss you?”

She squinted her eyes but didn’t say anything in response. “I’ll miss having you around, Maybank.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll still be around. I think your mom will institute Sunday dinners or some shit if I don’t come over regularly.”

Kie chuckled. “She really loves you. Dad does - did, too.” Her voice broke slightly.

“I love them, too,” JJ said, honestly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before picking up his bags and leaving. Kiara caught her breath as his lips brushed her skin, warmth spreading from where he made contact. Her wide eyes stayed glued to his figure as he loaded up his truck and drove away. 

If normal could be achieved after a year like the Carrera women had experienced, they worked their hardest to achieve it. Anna threw herself into caring for the Wreck and it had the best off-season it had had in years. Kiara wrote songs and worked alongside her mother and even took some online classes. Anna did indeed institute Sunday dinners with JJ and he came to as many of them as he could. Life was slow to move forward, but Kie and Anna kept each other afloat, reminding themselves that Mike wouldn’t have wanted them to sit still crying over him. Step by step they picked up the pieces of their lives. 

Things went along this way for a couple months or so. The world was calming down, but not fully quiet yet - when was the world ever quiet? Kiara never thought she could enjoy the quiet slow life that was the Outer Banks during the off-season, but after the year she’d had, she wanted nothing more than simple domesticity. She said as much during one of their Sunday dinners, enticing a knowing smile from her mother and a surprising lack of eye contact from JJ. She cornered him on the back deck when he’d stepped out to smoke. She was grateful they had regained some of the ease their friendship had carried when they were younger. “Okay, what was that all about?”

He chewed on his lip, twisting his cigarette between his fingers. He’d given up weed a while back when they were traveling, out of necessity, but she was secretly glad he’d never taken it up again. “I’m leaving,” he said abruptly. 

“Leaving? Going where?” 

“Not sure yet. My cousin’s gonna watch the shop for me. Travel the states for a bit until it’s safer to leave the country. Then Mexico? Maybe.”

“When will you be back?” 

He shrugged, “Don’t know. Not for a long time.”

“Why?” Her mouth had gone dry and her words had run out. JJ was a die-hard salt-lifer. He might pack up and leave occasionally, but the Outer Banks was home, where he belonged. She thought that no matter where he went, he’d always end up back here. Home. How could he leave now?

He turned to look at her, urgency and honesty shining in his eyes. “I know he was your dad, and I probably don’t have the right to feel this way, but I…” 

“You lost him, too,” she said, understanding.

“Need a change of scenery.” He shrugged again, putting out his cigarette before walking back inside. 

Kiara understood better than most the need to keep moving, the change of scenery a welcome distraction. Traveling alone left a lot of time to think and soul-search. She didn’t peg JJ as the soul-searching type, but grief changed people; he needed time. She could support him in that.

“You’re going with him, right?” Anna asked sternly as she and her daughter washed dishes that evening. JJ had just left. 

“What?” Kiara nearly dropped the plate she was drying. 

“JJ told me all about his plans. Getting out of here for a while will be good for him!” She waved a hand over her shoulder, dismissing Kiara’s shocked expression. “He talks to me, too, you know? Always has.”

Kiara chuckled lightly, “So even though he and I broke up, he never broke up with y’all?”

“You shouldn’t have broken up with him.”

Kiara’s heart stopped for a moment, as she processed what her mother had said. “What do you mean?” She started slowly. “I thought you didn’t approve of me dating someone from the Cut.”

Anna sighed, setting down a half-washed pan. She turned to her daughter. “Your dad and I always wanted what was best for you. We thought that meant college, a solid career, marrying up. But we realized recently that that is never what life’s about.” She reached out and took Kiara’s hands, tears starting to shine in her eyes. “Your dad was from the Cut. When we first got married, we had nothing except each other but being with him was the best decision I ever made. He made me happy. I think I made him happy, too.”

“You definitely made him happy, Mom. But JJ and I fought all the time, we couldn’t sort things out.”

Anna scoffed, “Your dad and I fought, too. Fights happen, but you have to realize you’re not fighting each other, you’re a team fighting the problem. Once you figure that out, you can work through anything.”

Kiara shook her head, but she had a soft smile on her lips. “Mom, I just don’t know.”

Anna smiled, tearfully. “That is what life’s about. Nobody knows! What really matters is who is there to walk with you in the unknown. Who is there for you when you need them? Through the good and the bad. Your dad was that person for me.” She paused and looked at Kiara meaningfully, “So I’ll ask again: are you going with him?”

She shouldn’t, but while considering all of this somehow she felt freer. Her father had just died, she should still be mourning him, and yet she knew that he wouldn’t want her to wallow - she had to pick herself up. You knew this was coming, she heard his voice in her head. She hoped she would never forget what that voice sounded like. You knew I was going. Now that I’m gone, you’re free to live your life again. Live it, Kiara.

JJ finished buying his ticket for the ferry. It was cold out, more snow on its way. He had some time to kill before loading up his truck, but not much. He double-checked the straps on his luggage in the bed of the truck and was just beginning to contemplate how to pass the time when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Kiara running toward him, backpack bouncing wildly on her back. She was all flushed cheeks and shining eyes and curls tumbling around her shoulders. 

“I broke up with Fern,” her words came out in a rush as she drew near him before he could even greet her. “I broke up with her months ago.”

“O-okay,” JJ replied, heart pounding. A million thoughts ran through his mind. He had just seen Kiara, why hadn’t she mentioned it then? Or before then? Why had she come all the way here to tell him that?

“And I’m coming with you,” she continued. 

“What?” JJ wasn’t one to be lost for words, but he couldn’t say anything else. 

“You make me happy. When the world went to shit you were the one person I wanted to know was safe. You were there for me and my whole family in the darkest few months of our lives and you really cared about us. I don’t care that we fought or that we will fight because being with you makes me happier than I ever thought possible.”

If she was going to say anything else, her words were swallowed up when he kissed her, hands cupping her cold cheeks. “I love you,” he said when she pulled back to breathe. “I never stopped. I didn’t know how to fight for you, how to stay, but I’ll do better. I can be better.”

She pressed another kiss to his lips. “Shut up, we’ll figure it out. We can do it right this time.” 

Sometimes things die. It’s a sad cycle. The brightest fires turn cold and gray. But with time, new sparks can settle in that bed of ash. With care a new fire can start, burning brighter than before. So, even though things sometimes die, sometimes those dead things lead to an even more beautiful beginning.

#obx #outer banks #jiara #jj x kiara #angst #tw: current events #set in 2020 #jj maybank #kiara carrera #tw: minor character death #big sad #fics with liv #tw: cancer

[deltas-writing-corner]

Warmth: Prologue (2/3)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Disclaimers: Besides the prologues, I will be posting the first 1000 or so words of every new/next chapter.  There will be a link to my AO3 at the end of the post, where the full chapters are at!

Warnings: mentions of blood

Masterlist: (coming soon)

"Here, let me help with-"

"It's alright!" Fuku shouts as she lifted several rolls of fabric with ease.

To say Fuku was doing a little better is an understatement. She was fantastically better. When Yuki and you came into work the morning after her accident, she didn't greet you both in her usual polite and quiet manner. Fuku had loudly welcomed you both in as if the shop were suddenly a bustling restaurant.

You were mending a ripped seam in the back room when Yuki suddenly enters and whispers, "Please tell me I haven't gone crazy, or is Fuku much more lively than yesterday?"

You resist the urge to smile. She got her spunk back indeed.

"I quite like this sudden shift in her character," you say.

"I do too, really! I haven't seen her like this since I was a kid. But the sudden switch from sweet to sassy is…" her mind trails off with uncertainty. She looks over her shoulder to make sure you two were alone still. "Do you think her accident yesterday had anything to do with her personality change?"

"They say your life flashes before your eyes in an instant when you come close to death. Maybe she decided to drop the quiet act and be true to herself."

"Yeah, that's it isn't it?" Yuki asks more to herself than to you. "But should she really be carrying all those fabric rolls? Those things are heavier than they look."

"Perhaps her back is doing better?"

"In a day?!"

She was getting more confused, more frustrated as she tried to wrap her head around everything. You put your needle and thread down and turn towards her. "Do you remember what I said yesterday?" you ask. Her tense shoulders relax a bit and she nods. "Then trust me on this. She's going to be fine. Would I ever lie to you if I didn't think she would?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know why, but you saying she's going to be okay somehow reassures me that it will be."

You give her a pat on the head, but she pulls you into a tight hug. You would hug her back if she wasn't squeezing your arms against your body. It was strange. Her hugging you like this almost makes you feel as if you two had truly become…

You don't finish that statement, for fear that your rival would hear it and use it against you. You nearly forgot that you could never truly make friends, not when you're still in the midst of a never-ending battle with a damn snake that targets the people around you. One of these days, you're going to get rid of it for good by any means necessary. Even if that means you would have to die with it, so be it. Anything to make sure it doesn't come out victorious.

You won't take away the people I love again.

 _______________________________________________________________

The last time you took a vacation was...never. You've never been on vacation. Your 50-year lone journey could technically count, considering you don't work and essentially goof around most of those years. It wasn't to relax from the stresses of work though. It was merely to pass the time before you could integrate back into society without causing a fuss. It would also help you forget about the people you had gotten to know.

You look over to your co-worker and boss. "Can't I just relax at home? Do I really need to go all the way out to…"

"Kyoto," Yuki finishes your thought.

"Right. Do I really need to go out to Kyoto to relax?"

Fuku shakes her head in disbelief. "Honestly, all you ever do is work! You'll go stir crazy if you don't switch up your surroundings every now and then."

"Besides," Yuki chimes in. "If anyone deserves a vacation, it's you. I don't think you understand how much you work. It's admirable, but also very concerning."

Seeing their worried expression, you feel a bit bashful. They were only looking out for you, thinking you to be tied down to the same limitations they have. You badly want to just bite the bullet and tell them the true nature of who you are. Surely they would understand, right? They would accept you for who you truly are, right? The coiling of the snake around your arm keeps your confession at bay.

Apparently, a vacation for you meant a vacation for it as well. Tormenting you must be such a demanding job after all.

You made sure to sharpen your axe real well the other night.

The chugging of the train grew louder and louder. You and a few other people, mostly fellow travelers from outside your town, walk up to the yellow line on the ground and stand to wait. The train begins to slow down into a complete stop. Once halted, a hiss of steam is let out and the doors creak open.

You turn to give your farewells to your friends and surprisingly find yourself in the middle of a group hug. You give Fuku and Yuki their own pat on the back and they squeeze you a bit harder.

"Have fun! Don't forget to call me and take a bunch of pictures!" Yuki demands.

"And bring a man home," Fuku adds.

You laugh at her comment. She really was a feisty one.

Adjusting the bag hanging from your shoulder, you step onto the train cart and take a seat. After a few minutes, the doors close and you begin to depart from the station. As you look back out the window behind you, you see Fuku and Yuki still standing there, waving you off even as you gradually disappear over the horizon. You swear, they both looked ready to burst into tears.

A tightness against your arm grabs your attention. After wriggling about from under your sleeve, the snake finally pokes its head out and turns its head towards you.

"So," you whisper, as to not attract any attention from your fellow passengers. "It took you awhile to come back. Did I cut you up that badly?"

It hisses at you for mocking it. Uncaring of it feelings, you uncoil it from your arm and drop it in the seat next to you. Should any of the passengers have watched you, they would see you moving nothing. You were actually grateful they couldn't see it. If they did, they would all certainly panic. You did not want to be known as the traveler who carries a deadly snake with them.

You cross one leg over the other and sink in your seat. "Y'know, I should give you a name. It's starting to become annoying just referring to you as 'the snake'."

It seemed surprised that you were speaking to it on neutral terms. Usually, your interactions were hostile and more or less ended with you chopping it into fine bits. It slithers back onto you, this time coiling around your neck. You nearly flinch at the familiar sensation you felt as it tightened its grip to gain stability.

I felt this in my first memory. Go figure.

You pull out your phone and quickly search up an image of a color wheel. You take care to lift the screen up to the snake's eye level while not appearing odd from any lingering gazes. You tell it to tap on a color, and from the one it selects, you would refer to it as that henceforth. It was unimpressed by your naming process but you tell it that it was either this or you give it the most insulting name you can think of.

It looks at the screen for a minute. It then presses the tip of its mouth against the glass and selects the color black.

"How original," you sarcastically say. It responds by tightening around your neck. "Alright. I'll call you Kuro from now on. It'll make cutting you up all the more personal."

Your one-sided chat ends with Kuro, who turns his head away and settles around your neck. You pull up your phone's built-in navigation app and look at the expected arrival time, 3 hours. You lean forward and prop both elbows on your knees. For the next few hours, you just sat there and waited, not bothering to look out the window and marvel in the passing scenery. Your focus was entirely on Kuro, making sure that he wouldn't try to sneak off of you and attack any of the other passengers. He usually only goes for people you had grown attached to or spend most of your time with, but you weren't going to take any chances.

You give yourself a bit of comfort by sticking your hand in your duffel bag and squeezing the familiar handle of your axe.

________________________________________________________________

The city still amazes you. It was hard to believe that in just a couple hundred years, humanity would evolve so rapidly. As amazing as the advancement of humanity was, the air quality has gone to complete shit. Along with sleeping and eating, you didn't need to breathe either. You're thankful you didn't have to subject yourself to the polluted air and spare yourself from burning your lungs. Kuro seems to hate the air as well, as he makes a sort of gagging noise once you step out of the station.

Finally, we agree on something

You robotically push past the crowds, flag down a taxi, and check into your hotel room. You send a quick text to Yuki to let her know you arrived safely and thank her again for booking the room for you. Once you set your belongings down and relax against the plush bed, you get a text back.

'What r u going to do?'

That's right. This was supposed to be a vacation. You were supposed to be going out and doing literally anything other than work.

What the hell are you even supposed to do?

You text back, 'idk.'

'Seriously??? There's a ton of stuff you could do in Kyoto!'

'Like what?'

'I heard shrines are lovely this time of the year'

________________________________________________________________

The fact that you, a god, are visiting a shrine to be very, very hilarious. Kuro hates it apparently, which made it even funnier.

"Aww, don't be like that," you jokingly cooed at him.

You used the ladle from the shrine pavilion to scoop up the so-called purified water and bring it close to him. He hisses so violently that the shrine maiden that acted as a guide for you and your fellow visitors flinched and looks around to find the source of her scare. Deciding to spare him any more stress and reason to go on a frenzy, you put the ladle back in the basin and catch up to the departing group.

The tour was simple, a mere walk around the temple and it's public areas while the guide explained the history behind each building, important figures, and various rituals the worshipers practice. It wasn't the most exciting way to spend your first day on vacation, but you found still found it interesting and very educational.

Near the end of the tour, the guide leads you all up to a statue of a woman. Her skin is as white as milk, half of her black hair twisted up in a bun while the rest flowed down her back. It was a hairstyle your mother would style on you and even taught you how to do it yourself. Her kimono was a faded gold color from years of natural degradation. The pattern on her stone clothing reminded you of flames.

Your tour guide stops and turns back towards you all. "This here is a statue of the sun goddess, Amaterasu. She is a central deity within the Shinto religion. The Japanese nobility claim their divine right to rule by claiming to be her descendants."

Your tour guide went on about the shrine's methods of worship for Amaterasu, but you completely drowned out her words. You found yourself completely enamored by the statue.

Something about it was...

Hearing that name was…

Your body was...

"Miss?" One of the tour-goers waves her hands in front of your vision in an attempt to gain your attention. "Is everything alright?"

As you slowly regain your focus, you notice a wetness on your face. You had shed a tear. You quickly wiped it away and gave the concerned woman a reassuring smile. "Allergies."

She seemed relieved and without a second thought reached into her bag to pull out a bottle. She pops off the cap, shakes out two antihistamine pills and hands them to you. You take them and hide them under your tongue before taking a gulp of water from your plastic bottle. You thank her, waiting for her to walk off with the group before spitting them out.

Kuro gives a condescending flick of his tongue against the cheek your tear descended on. You slap his head away and growl, "Not a word."

You take a moment to gather yourself before heading back with the group. Before you turn the corner and lose sight of the statue, you spare it one last glance. When you looked at it again, you were certain what you were feeling wasn't just a fluke.

You felt warm.

________________________________________________________________

The tour ended not long after you all saw the statue of the sun goddess. You didn't leave until night, when the Shrine closed to the public. You spent the entire day just staring at the statue, basking in the familiar warmth that filled within your body.

"I know you don't care, but that wasn't some coincidence," you say to Kuro. "That warm feeling. It's similar, no, the exact same warmth I summon when I heal people!"

You yank him off your neck and plop him on the nearest surface, a stone tablet of sorts with writing carved into it. It was monument for some historical figure, but you didn't care about it. He looks at you as if he was actually considering your words for once. At this point, you could care less about this ingrained rivalry between you two. If there was anyone else in the world that could ever relate to you, it would be him.

"Who the hell am I? What the hell are we? Who the hell made us so hellbent on screwing each other over? Actually, let me rephrase. Why are we so hellbent on screwing each other over?"

You kept rattling on question after question. Contemplating the meaning of your existence to a snake that no one but yourself could see. In your confused frenzy, you fail to notice the grey clouds engulfing the sky. The loud roar of lightning and sudden rainfall put a halt to your pacing.

So much for clear skies.

The sound of footsteps approaching your figure brought your attention back down to earth. "Are you alright ma'am? Do you have an umbrella?" a man in a lab coat and glasses looks at you with a blank stare, but his voice indicates that he was worried for you.

You shake your head. "I didn't think it would rain today."

The man opens his mouth to say something when suddenly, your eardrums are assaulted by another clap of lightning. This time, it struck the space right next to the both of you. You frantically search your surroundings to locate exactly where it struck. The monument that your rival was on had been completely shattered into pieces.

Shit, I put Kuro on that!

The bespectacled man kneels down towards you and offers you his hand. You didn't realize that you had fallen over until you finally registered the stinging on each of your knees. You reach out towards his offered hand. Before you could place your hand in his own, darkness suddenly enveloped your vision followed by a wave of dizziness. You instinctively shut your eyes and nurse your head in your hands.

The wet and cold air of the rainstorm was suddenly replaced with a suffocating heat. You manage to open your eyes and find yourself in a completely new setting. You were on the balcony of a building, currently blanketed in flames and billowing smoke. You accidentally inhaled due to your shock and began to cough as your lungs fill with black air.

Your fit alerts a figure in the room of your presence. Seeing you, a defenseless woman all so suddenly, they found themselves frozen in shock. Your vision began to slowly clear up enough for you to notice the familiar sheen of metal. Whoever it was that you were looking at had a sword in hand, tip aimed to the floor where a man lied unconscious at his feet.

Instinctively, you reached into your handbag and grabbed your axe. You put all the force you could muster into your grip and threw it at the man with the sword. He gave out a cry of pain, indicating that you had landed a hit on him. He suddenly backs away from the body and you think you hear him mutter some sort of apology before running out the room. With the threat now gone, you make your way towards the man on the floor. He was still unconscious, so you took a firm hold of his shoulders and began to shake him awake. He wakes up with a sputter before taking notice of you.

"Who are you?" his booming voice asks

"No time for introductions! The building is burning and we need to leave! Now!"

You didn't give him a chance to get in another word. Grabbing his forearm and hoisting him on his feet, you pulled him out of the fiery room. You make sure to grab your axe, wedged deep into the wood of the door frame, on your way out.

Miraculously, you manage to find a way out the building. As soon as you're lungs fill with fresh air, you double over into another coughing fit. As you try to calm your breaths, you turn back to building. It was a temple, but not like the one you visited earlier in the day. This one seemed more rustic. It was hard to fully picture what it might have looked like due to it being quite on fire still.

If you hadn't escaped in time, the man you dragged along with you would have perished. If not by the stab of the sword looming over him, then by the flames. Speaking of him, he looks out towards the burning temple with you. Instead of worry or panic, he seemed to be rather annoyed.

"Someone tried to do away with me as I slept? Audacious, but foolish. Killing my guards and managing to get so close to me is another matter."

Who cares if you were asleep or not?! You almost died!

He then turns towards you, taking notice of your grip still on his arm. "You there," he addresses you. "Let go of me."

You let go of his arm and he rubs it as if your grip was uncomfortable. He took in the person standing before him, his apparent savior.

"You may be mere entertainment the monks brought in, but you saved my life nonetheless. You have my thanks."

Did he just insinuate that you were a prostitute?

"I must have missed all the monks among the fire. I don't have a clue how I ended up in there," you tell him.

It's now that you begin to take in your surroundings. You were no longer within the city, not a single skyscraper obscuring the night sky in sight. The air, despite standing next to a burning building, wasn't as disgusting to breathe in. The man you rescued had striking features. His hair black and eyes a carnelian hue. He wore armor sporting colors of black, white, and red. You remember seeing such attire way back when your parents were alive. He was some sort of soldier.

"What are you staring at? Surely you know who I am?" He asks. You shake your head, being at a total loss for words. This genuinely confuses him. "You saved me not knowing who I am? Not expecting reward or favor?" He gives a deep chuckle that echoes throughout the night. "So be it, I shall tell you my name. I am the man who will rule all under the sun-"

Your silence is broken by your faint laugh. Was this man seriously going to monologue and create some sort of suspenseful build-up over his own name? After he just escaped the clutches of death?

He lifts an eyebrow. "Have I said something amusing?"

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggles and shake your head once more. Surely, he must have thought you rude.

Instead, he lets out another round of laughter, this time louder. "You're a curious one. No one has acted so impudently to me before." He takes a step closer to you and you take half a step back. "You intrigue me, which is almost as worthy of praise for saving my life. I am the Lord of Azuchi Castle and Daimyo of Owari, Nobunaga Oda."

Your head involuntarily tilts to the side. You look up at him and say, "...Who?"

His brows furrow. Now he was getting frustrated. "Do you truly not know who I am?"

You fiddle with your thumbs. "Noooooo?"

"You are indeed a strange one. But I have given you my name. Now, give me yours."

You hesitated, but decided it was safe to give him your name.

"I see. A good name befitting my savior"

Was that a compliment? Hang on, where the hell are you?!

You shake your head as if to clear your mind of its confused state. "Now that we got the introductions out the way. Tell me, where are we?"

"We are at Honno-ji. The building before you is-"

"A temple. I can see that. What year is it?"

He seems taken back by your question and of the fact that you interrupted him. "It is 1582. Why?"

Ah, 1582………WHAT?!

Before you could understandably freak out, the galloping of hooves grabs both your attention. The man at the front of the small group heading in your direction shouts, "Lord Nobunaga, you're safe!"

Once he reaches a safe distance, he hurriedly dismounts and approaches you both on foot. The others that rode alongside him turn their attention towards the building and begin shouting out orders to put out the flames.

"Mitsunari," Nobunaga turns to him. "Why have you come? Where is Hideyoshi?"

"Lord Hideyoshi sent me ahead. He should arrive here shortly," Mitsunari explains. He then takes in the sight of the smoldering temple and frowns. "It would seem the information we received about your assassination attempt was correct."

You feel another coughing fit coming and try to muffle it. It is then that Mitsunari takes notice of you.

"Oh, who might you be?"

Nobunaga calls out to you. He gives a nod to Mitsunari as an indication that you were no threat and then commanded, "Present yourself to my subordinate."

"I'm- Ow!"

Something pierces your ankle and you nearly fall over yet again. Mitsunari pulls you towards him and swiftly draws his sword out. As your eyes search the ground for what could have bitten you, you notice the familiar black scales of your rival hidden between the blades grass.

"Kuro! You bastard, I thought the lightning fried you to a crisp!"

As much as you hate to admit, you were glad to see the serpent is alive and well. However, as Mitsunari took notice of the snake, he pulled you further in until you were between him and Nobunaga.

"A snake?! Please stand back!"

He firmly planted his right foot on the ground and raised his sword. You immediately went on the defense and shoved him into the Nobunaga's chest. They were dumbfounded as they saw you place yourself protectively in front of the snake as if they were the threat, not it.

"Stop! He's with me!"

"My lady, the snake could potentially be venomous. Please walk carefully towards me,' Mitsunari beckons you to him.

Oh, he's much more than venomous… hold on.

You look down towards Kuro, then to Mitsunari, then to Kuro and back to the grey-haired man again. "You...You can see him?"

"Of course I can! Now please, get back!"

You glare down at him. "You bastard! You can make people see you at will can't you?!"

Unsurprisingly, he plays dumb and slithers back on you. Like before, he situates himself around your neck before turning his gaze towards the two armor-clad men. He sends an almost condescending gaze at the grown men panicking before him, a tiny viper.

"Ok, before you panic let me explain. This is Kuro. Say hi." You roll your eyes as he hisses at them. What else did you expect? "Lovely. He's my…we've known each other for a long time."

"You say that as if the snake were a person." Nobunaga notices.

Man don't even get me started!

"He's more aware than most, but he isn't harmful. So long as you don't annoy him he won't try to lunge at you." You shift your weight to the foot he had bitten, reminding you of the fact that he sunk his fangs into you just moments ago. "Except me. He'll only bite me."

"He's not venomous, is he?" Mitsunari asks.

"He has venom," you stupidly say, but quickly backtrack on your statement. "But he never shoots it in me, I swear! like I said, you just have to be cautious around him and not give him a reason to bite you."

"A woman with a venomous snake as her companion. There is no end to your amusement, is there?" Nobunaga speaks up, impressed, and not at all ashamed of feeling so, "Mitsunari, this is my savior. Remember her well."

"I thank you for rescuing our Lord," the man, clad in purple armor and a singular beauty mark under his right eye, bows deeply towards you. "My name is Mitsunari Ishida. I serve Nobunaga's right-hand man."

You wave your hands frantically to stop him. "Ah, no need to be so formal! Despite the circumstances, It's nice to meet you as well."

you properly introduce yourself to Mitsunari, who instantly perks up at your more welcoming demeanor. "Is your foot alright? That bite must have hurt. Though now that I've gotten a better look at you, you don't appear to be a nun. Are you perhaps from abroad?"

You look down towards yourself and realized you were wearing nothing but a t-shirt, capris, and some old worn out sneakers. You must look like a clown to them. Also, what were you even supposed to say in this sort of situation? Hey, I'm from 500 years in the future. Did I forget to mention I'm actually a 300 year old deity? Life sure is crazy!

Not knowing what is safe and not safe to say, you remained quiet. Mitsunari takes notice of your hesitation and looks back at Nobunaga for some guidance. The man, now over your rude behavior, steps past his subordinate and towers over you.

"Were you not taught to speak when spoken to? You may have saved my life, but there is only so much disobedience I will tolerate. Tell us where you hail from, and quickly."

You and Kuro glance at each other. Like most of your standoffs, there seems to be a mutual understanding between you two without the need for words. Remain silent. Do not tell them of your origin or of the nature of your being. Even if he decides you aren't trustworthy and strikes you down where you stand, you will survive the blow.

You kept your mouth shut. He seems more disappointed than angry towards your answer and turns towards Mitsunari. "Restrain her. She is now officially a suspect in the assassination plot on my life"

"My Lord. She's clearly disoriented from the chaos-"

"Restrain her," he ordered with finality.

Mitsunari, hesitant but not one to disobey orders, grabs a length of rope from his horse's saddle and walks back towards you. "Please give me your hands,' he politely demands of you. You do as you're told.

"It's alright," you whisper to him. "If it makes you feel better, my reason for being silent is just for my safety. I mean you all no harm. You have my word."

"I…" he appears caught between his orders and trusting in you. "I will trust you. No person with ill intent would risk their life to save Lord Nobunaga."

You thank him by giving his hand a comforting squeeze. He makes sure to tie your hands in a manner that would make escaping impossible, but not tight enough to hurt your wrists. You're escorted away from the temple, to a camp not too far away. You're led to a nearby bonfire and told to sit and not make any sudden moves. Mitsunari steps away from you and is replaced by two of the soldiers he brought with him.

"Hey," you try to whisper as quietly as you can to Kuro, "I have a suggestion. Care to hear it?"

He slithers around your neck until he's facing you head-on. It seems he's willing to listen. "Let's call a truce," you simply state. "The only conditions are that we look out and help one another until we find a way back to our time. After we return, we can go back to despising each other for the next hundreds of years."

Were you seriously offering an alliance with your sworn enemy? Yes, yes you were. As much as you both detest the idea of having to tolerate each other, the current situation made it clear that the only way you two are going to manage to get home is to put your heads together. Maybe even get along for a change?

Ugh, the thought of befriending this slithering asshole is deplorable.

"If you agree to those terms, bite my neck."

He doesn't hesitate to sink his fangs into your throat. You're sure he's wanted to bite you until your body was littered in duo puncture marks. The guards are alarmed at your cry of pain and go to kneel beside you to see what was wrong. They both took notice of the black snake around your neck and bleeding wounds. They look at each other and then nod. "Don't move ma'am. We'll take care of the snake-"

"He's a pet! No need to draw your sword," you immediately explain to them. "Could I maybe get a rag to press against my wound?"

The guard on your right seems hesitant, but his fellow soldier nods in assurance. He leaves in search of a rag, while the guard on your left seems to get closer to you. He's probably keeping a closer eye on you until his partner returns.

Two new people enter the camp. One is clad in blue and white armor, hair a pure white color. The other in green armor with red accents, hair a natural brown. You try your hardest to listen to their conversation. So far, both new figures seem to be concerned for the well being of Nobunaga. They question him on how he managed to escape unscathed and soon the attention is turned towards you.

"This is my savior. Due to her lack of answering my inquiries about her person, I've placed her under custody until we return to Azuchi."

"That one, sitting by the fire?" the white-haired one gestured towards you. You gave him a wave with your tied hands. "What a slender thing, but appearances aren't everything. Shall I pry answers from her mouth?"

The threat of torture puts you both on edge. You more than Kuro as you would be the one subjected to it.

Nobunaga seems to notice your fear and revels in it. "Once we return home, if she refuses to explain herself again, I will leave her in your hands. For now, we prepare for our departure."

The white-haired one nods in understanding before sending a spine chilling grin towards you.

Note to self, watch out for that one.

The brown-haired one comes towards you. While he isn't as scary as the other one, his height makes up for it. He's nearly twice your height and taller than anyone in the camp. He glares down at you and says, "Whoever you are, if you have any plans to harm Lord Nobunaga, I will make you regret ever having such thoughts."

Threat after threat after threat. You were getting pretty fed up with it. You were about to give the man a piece of your mind when suddenly, Kuro lunges at him. His fangs were bared and spurted liquid out of his mouth. That wasn't a warning bite. It was an honest attempt to bite and kill.

"Kuro!" You scold him. "That's not going to help the situation!"

"A snake?! Why haven't you noticed and gotten rid of it?!" The green armored one questions your guards.

They stutter over themselves before you finally speak up in place of them. "He's my pet."

"Pet or not. Allowing such a dangerous animal around Lord Nobunaga is a risk I won't take."

He reaches down to his waist to unsheathe his sword. In your panic, you shot up on your feet and you kick him right in the diaphragm. His arms wrap around his stomach and he nearly falls to his knees over from the blow.

"The next person that points a sword at us, I'm going to hold you down myself and let him pump you full of venom!" you scream. Gods, were you so on edge that you were now threatening people?

Your suddenly thrown face first down onto the ground and pinned from behind. You turn your head to see who it was that had restrained you. It was the white-haired one. The empty barrel pointed at you keeps you still.

I smell gunpowder. That's a rifle no doubt. Father used to have one in the house in case wolves came by at night.

"Those things have a tendency to accidentally go off," you tell him.

He smiles down at you. "Indeed. You'll forgive me if it does, yes?"

Second note, I hate this guy.

Angered by his cockiness, you try to wiggle out of his hold, but it utterly fails. In fact, you actually help him get a better grip on you and make it harder for you to escape. Great job, you dumbass.

"What shall we do with the snake, my lord?" The one pinning you down asks Nobunaga.

He stood over your defenseless self and stared at you with indifference. "It is clearly a hazard, but it has yet to leave it's master side and only struck when it perceived her to be under an immediate threat. Leave it, but keep your distance."

"My Lord, that is too much of a risk. Removing the threat now would be the better option," the brown-haired one protested. Slightly bent over in pain from your hit.

"I hate to say it, but I agree with Hideyoshi," the white haired one says. "Even a moment of vulnerability on our part will result in her releasing it on us."

The one you hit is Hideyoshi. Noted.

Nobunaga smirks at him. "If you're so concerned, Mitsuhide, then I suggest you put your sharpshooter skills to good use and keep an eye on the damn thing. Now, if you're both done bickering, let us head out."

Mitsuhide didn't seem to like his new orders but answers with a practiced "yes sir", before helping you up to your feet. Without any more to say, you're escorted to an large crowd of horses and lifted onto a saddle. Mitsunari is your apparent rider and you quietly thank the heavens for your one saving grace.

"Sorry," you whisper, "I sort of made things worse for myself."

You feel him tense, immediately feeling bad for making him worry even more.

"Once we return to Azuchi, you'll be in a secure place and can speak your truth without fear of lingering ears," he tells you. The horse beneath you suddenly kinks into a speedy gallop and you hold onto him for dear life.

You travel for a few minutes before the steeds around you slow down into a complete stop. A man with an eye patch and blue and gold armor appears with another unit of soldiers. Perhaps he was back up? He sure is late though.

"Lord Nobunaga. I see you're unscathed," he says, a more casual hint in his voice.

"Physically, yes. But my pride has taken quite the hit. We're returning to Azuchi. Have your men follow."

"Damn, I guess I was too late to see some action," he answers disappointedly. He turns back towards his reinforcements and shouts, "You heard the man! It's back home for us!"

His soldiers all let out groans of equal disappointment. He laughs at their expense before maneuvering his horse to join with the rest of the retreat. It's when he and his men fully merge that he takes notice of you and your bound hands. "Who's the lass?" He shouts over to Hideyoshi.

"They're under suspicion for the assassination attempt tonight. She has a snake around her neck and it will strike if you get near."

"A woman with a snake, huh? I like you already. The name's Date Masamune. I hope we can get to know each other well."

First I get called a prostitute, then this asshole flirts with me while I'm tied up! So much for a relaxing vacation!

________________________________________________________________

Kennyo watches the retreat of the Oda alliance with rage. His chance to exact revenge was in the palm of his hand but had been slapped away in a mere instance. The rustling of bushes gains his attention and he turns to see Ranmaru knelt before him, sweaty and disheveled. He's now porting a gash across his normally pristine face. "Are you alright? We need to tend to that wound to prevent it from becoming infected. It'll likely scar."

Ranmaru is on the verge of tears. "Master Kennyo, I failed you. All our efforts to eliminate the head of the Oda have gone to waste because of-"

The monk shushes him. "You've done well, Ranmaru. You've demonstrated how well the devil king trusts you. That alone is enough to be the cause of their undoing."

Ranmaru flinches at the mention of the word "trust." Kennyo turns back to look at the retreating forces once more. He turned back just in time to see that the they had a prisoner in their midst. He becomes even more enraged once he realizes that it was a woman.

"They would go so far as to blame a woman for the fire and hold her captive. The Oda couldn't stoop any lower than they have now."

Kennyo begins to walk away into the darkness of the forest. He gestures for the boy to follow, and he does so without hesitation.

________________________________________________________________

Another set of eyes watch the retreat of the Oda alliance from the sidelines.

"How disappointing. Though perhaps this is a blessing in disguise," Kenshin, initially unhappy seeing Nobunaga escape unharmed, immediately perks up at his own thoughts. "I still have an opportunity to drag the devil king out to battle and strike him down myself."

Shingen shakes his head in disbelief. Although he was frustrated as the rest, seeing the Oda pull out victorious and without a single loss, hearing Kenshin retain his bloodlust was reassuring. "He truly earned the title of devil king. Only a demon could have such twisted luck on his side."

"Lord Shingen," Yukimura suddenly notices an unfamiliar figure among the retreating forces, "look at who is riding with Mitsunari Ishida."

Shingen searches out for the familiar tuff of grey hair. He was in a bad mood, but now he's pissed. That was a woman, bound by the wrist the same way a criminal would be. "Unforgivable," is all the Tiger of Kai could growl out.

"Yes," Yoshimoto nods in agreement with his cousin, "Such a small thing. She must be scared to death."

Kenshin doesn't make any comment at the revelation, but he notices the panic that overtakes Sasuke's face upon hearing that a woman had been taken prisoner.

"I've grown bored. Let us return to Echigo and reconvene another day."

Kenshin doesn't wait for an answer. He turns away and the rest of his allies follow without a word. "Sasuke," Kenshin calls out to his ninja who had yet to move from his spot, "Do not keep me waiting."

He snaps out of this train of thought before following along. "Yes, my Lord."

________________________________________________________________

You had remained quiet the entire trip. A few people called your name, but you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even acknowledge whoever was speaking to you. You failed to realize that night had turned into morning. Your surroundings had changed from foliage into a massive fortress-like castle.

Kuro paid attention to your surroundings in your stead. Anyone that had gotten even a little close was hissed at and had transparent venom spat at them. Even Mitsunari, your one and only ally as of now, was not spared of the serpents radar.

You finally speak your first words after hours of silence. "If you keep threatening every man that so much as looks in my direction, I might start to believe you actually liked me all this time."

You're once again bitten, this time on the back of your hand. Blood quickly pools in the twin punctures before rolling down and staining your skin.

Mitsuhide had witnessed the snake sink its fangs into you. "Oh my, such a temperamental pet. Are you sure you have it under control?"

You roll your eyes. "Of course I do. Hey, Kuro," you look down to him. "If things turn ugly, pump me full of whatever you got left."

The snake nods, pleased at the privilege you've given it. Mitsuhide narrows his eyes at you, concerned over your order. You make sure to pat Kuro's scaly head while maintaining eye contact with him.

The entourage heads towards the stable. Stable hands awaited their return and began to board and tend to each steed. Mitsunari eventually dismounts and offers his hand for you to take. You gratefully accept his gesture and he helps steady you on the ground.

"How are your hands? If they feel sore I'll redo my bindings," he offers.

You shake your head. "I'm alright. What's going to happen to me now?"

"Lord Nobunaga requested an immediate council upon his return. It will likely be about the events that took place at Honno-ji and will take some time to inform and gather everyone needed. Until then, you...you will be…"

You didn't rush him. He was clearly having a hard time trying to muster up the courage to tell you what will happen to you until the meeting. You already have an idea what it would entail.

"You will be held in a prison cell until your fate is determined."

There it is.

"Will Kuro be allowed to stay with me?"

He nods. "Hideyoshi requested that the snake remain on your person at all times and visible. I hope his request isn't too unreasonable."

"If it puts the people here at ease then I can live with it. I'd feel safe having him close by anyways, so I'm quite thankful he didn't call in some expert snake hunter or something."

Mitsunari smiles at your words. "Even when the odds are against you, you find the positive within. You are truly admirable, my lady."

You return the smile. "Thank you, but I'm sure I told you before not to be so formal!"

"Very well. I agree with the condition that you address me with familiarity too. Is that alright?"

You nod and, for a brief moment, you forget that you were technically still a prisoner.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #otome #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikemen sengoku writing #ao3 fanfic #ikesen writing #ikesen fanfic #writing #fanfic: warmth #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

[16ruedelaverrerie]

  [Today, Courtesy of This Diagram Generated by @sebdoesstuff, a Performative Reading of the Natal Chart of Detective Gavin Reed, Born October 7, 2002, in What We Take to Be Detroit, Michigan, at an Unknown Time of Day. All Standard Disclaimers from This Post Apply, Including the One about This Being a Generalization, Because Even with the Natal Chart We’re Not Going to Get into Aspects or Full Houses vs Empty Houses or Anything Like That, I’m Not an Astrologer Nor Was I Meant to Be, Also I Need to Go Eat Dinner Now]  

1. Rising Sign: presentation Sagittarius (blunt, outgoing, independent)

[The rising sign is dependent on the time of birth; it’s Sagittarius here because 12PM is the default time this website uses. My original choice for Gavin’s rising sign was Aries, because an Aries is just a Leo with an inferiority complex THAT’S RIGHT FIGHT ME ARIES but I rather like Sagittarius, actually! Did you know that every man I have ever been into but also simultaneously hated myself for being into had a Sagittarius sun sign? It’s a personal note you didn’t ask for but also it’s a broadly applicable truth.]

“I’ll make my own scrambled eggs,” says Gavin. “You cook like someone who made a deal with the devil to trade in their taste buds for pointlessly overdeveloped fine motor skills, which is exactly what you are. Your food tastes like a fucking instruction manual.”

“Is that any way to talk to your lawfully wedded husband?” asks RK900.

“THE LAW IS NOT JUSTICE,” proclaims Gavin.

Capitulating to the oppressive institution of marriage had provided them with certain tax benefits, muses RK900, but it had not done a thing to socialize Gavin. It's just as well, he thinks.

  2. Sun: personality 14 degrees Libra (diplomatic, superficial, indulgent)

[Again, this post is probably more than enough contemplation of Gavin Reed, Actual Libra. This sun sign continues to be completely absurd and I am on board for this bogus journey.]

“No wait, not-- not from the back,” pants Gavin, struggling to turn himself over under RK900′s insistent hands. “I want-- I want to see your face.”

“Okay,” breathes RK900, startled by the tenderness of the request.

“I mean, otherwise there’s no point,” continues Gavin. “What? You think I’m with you for your personality?”

“...Thanks, you ruined it,” says RK900.

  3. Moon: emotion 01 degree Scorpio (passionate, secretive, committed)

“You... I...” falters Gavin, fidgeting viciously with the zipper of his jacket. “...What I mean is-- that is to say, I... here’s the thing, you’re... I’m in-- I might be in-- ...I-- you--”

“Would you find this ordeal easier if we were both undressed and I was banging you like a screen door in a hurricane?” asks RK900, because it isn’t like he doesn’t know what Gavin is trying to say, anyway.

“Yes please right now,” says Gavin.

  4. Mercury: intellect 28 degrees Virgo (analytical, detail-oriented, perfectionist)

“Reed, this is ridiculous,” barks Fowler. “Your report was due two weeks ago, I can’t have you sit on your ass forever. Just get it done.”

“But have you seen the body text typeface for the new electronic filing system?” protests Gavin. “The x-height on it is hideously minuscule! What it does to the counters-- it’s completely illegible, Captain! I am ASPHYXIATED by its lack of sufficient aperture! I can’t work in typographical squalor, this aesthetic is a disgrace to the force! I QUIT!”

“Your gun and badge,” says Fowler.

  5. Venus: relationship 15 degrees Scorpio (loyal, possessive, adventurous)

“Here’s a handbook of sexual perversions that I’ve compiled for you,” says Gavin. He drops a gargantuan dossier in front of RK900, where it lands with a thunk hard enough to make the table shake.

“I... really don’t think this is necessary,” says RK900.

“Listen, I would literally keel over and die of grief if for some reason you suddenly decided to go slam your cock inside someone else instead of me,” says Gavin. “Tell me what freaky shit you’re into, and I’ll do it. You tell me what it takes to keep you around.”

“Isn’t there a nicer way of saying all this?” asks RK900.

  6. Mars: action 24 degrees Virgo (occupied, particular, critical)

“This folder is for solved cases that haven’t been filed yet,” says Gavin, cursor hovering. “This folder is for solved cases that are partially filed. This folder is for solved cases involving drug offenses. This folder is for all cases east of Woodward but west of Broadway. This folder is for bad crimes. This folder is for cases that when I looked at them, I was like, huh! This folder is--”

“Please, your organizational scheme doesn’t make any sense,” says RK900. “I’ve had to patch up several critical errors during your attempt to explain it just now.”

“It works! I have a system!” insists Gavin. “You know how Fowler feels about me, would I still be here if I didn’t have a system that worked and got cases cleared?”

“Your continued employment at this station is a source of persistent mystery to me,” says RK900.

  7. Jupiter: development 13 degrees Leo (dramatic, proud, demonstrative)

“You requested me?” demands Gavin as soon as the door to Fowler’s office swings closed, too befuddled to let his irritation silence him. “You asked to be partnered with me? What the fuck did you do that for?”

“You have... unorthodox methods, Detective Gavin Reed,” says RK900. “The capacity for improvisation is a quality I find lacking in myself. I intend to learn from your extraordinary proficiency in adapting to unforeseen circumstances.”

Gavin opens his mouth, only to close it again without managing to say anything. He turns on his heels and starts stomping away.

“Come on, you dumb shit,” he calls over his shoulder. His ears are flushed, RK900 notes.

  8. Saturn: limitation 29 degrees Gemini (concrete, inarticulate, intuitive)

“As Democritus said, happiness resides not in possessions,” announces Gavin as he bursts into the bedroom, glasses on the bridge of his nose, squinting at several closely printed pages that he clutches in his hands. “There is an ethical imperative to question whether it is beneficial to hold onto that which can be held onto; if it is not, at times, more salubrious to our spiritual health to cast off that which we let fester by keeping close to ourselves. For indeed, as stagnant water breeds disease, so do we find that the objects--”

“Gavin,” interrupts RK900, “are you... are you trying to thank me for taking out the trash an extra time last week?”

“You have to let me finish,” says Gavin. “I’ve been working on this since then.”

“Hold on,” says RK900, “you spent a week writing a speech because you couldn’t say th--”

“--SO DO WE FIND THAT THE OBJECTS WHICH SURROUND US CEASE TO GIVE US JOY WHEN THEY HAVE OVERSTAYED THEIR WELCOME,” shouts Gavin.

  9. Uranus: freedom 25 degrees Aquarius (scientific, original, technocratic)

“I’m a Gen Z chaos child and proud of it!” says Gavin. “We’re the generation that invented androids!”

“Some might say that you were adamantly refusing to be proud of this accomplishment until very recently,” remarks RK900. “Some might also say that it’s not your accomplishment in the least, that you had absolutely nothing to do with it, and point out that you have trouble operating a microwave on your best days.”

“They all have different ways you need to enter minutes and seconds,” says Gavin, hotly.

  10. Neptune: transcendence 08 degrees Aquarius (humanitarian, secular, modern)

“I’m a Gen Z chaos child and proud of it!” says Gavin. “We’re the generation that replaced religion with unparalleled medical advances and brought us one step closer to a post-scarcity society!”

“Wouldn’t know it from looking at you,” says RK900. “Generation that replaced religion with memes, more like.”

“Who taught you to talk like this?” demands Gavin.

  11. Pluto: transformation 15 degrees Sagittarius (confident, principled, revolutionary)

“I’m a Gen Z chaos child and proud of it!” says Gavin. “We replaced religion with memes and the whole world is better for it!”

“You smoke actual cigarettes and use voice-to-text to take notes,” says RK900. “I’m starting to think you might not even be Gen Z at all. How old are you, Gavin Reed? Are you a Highlander? Can you only be killed through decapitation?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” says Gavin.

  BONUS. North Node: purpose 10 degrees Gemini (interaction, partnership, community)

“Go talk to him,” Tina hisses under the clamor of the bar, elbowing RK900 in the side.

“He has been uncommunicative and belligerent since my return,” says RK900, keeping his eyes fixed on the glass of Thirium in front of him. “Correction, he has been especially uncommunicative and belligerent since my return. I believe attempting to engage with him at this point would only cause him to lash out further.”

“But have you figured out why?” asks Hank. “You know what’s got his panties in a twist?”

“That is an unsolicited mental image,” says RK900, “but I believe it is related to my dereliction of duty while I was confined to Cyberlife for repairs. The damage was extensive and I was unable to assist with Detective Reed’s caseload for much longer than he has been accustomed to. The evidence leads me to conclude that he is still resentful of my prolonged absence.”

“Unbelievable,” says Tina. “Brain the size of a planet and that’s what you conclude.”

“Nines,” says Connor, kindly, “replay your memories from the night of the shooting. My hypothesis is that you may not have taken all the evidence into account.”

The memories from the night of the shooting. Why, when the way that Gavin’s been acting ought to be explanation enough? Why go back to the sound of the gunshot like a cracking whip, the split second of frenzied calculation, the bullet in motion -- straight as the crow flies -- Gavin’s eyes widening as RK900 shoved him away, the sharp brittle crack of his shell coming apart, and then the terrible, painful static filling his head-- and Gavin’s fingers, slicked with blue, shaking uncontrollably as he fumbled to hold the shards of his skull together-- Gavin shouting something at him that he couldn’t hear over the noise, then Gavin’s lips still moving noiselessly when his audio processors cut out, just a deafening silence as the countdown began, and barely visible beyond the angry blur of error messages and critical malfunctions that had filled his view -- only now in the solemn clarity past the moment, RK900 could see -- in the low light of the alleyway, on his knees in filth beside him, Gavin looked--

RK900 glances up from his glass, turns to the far side of the bar where Gavin has been all night. The giveaway flurry as Gavin whips his head away, pretending for all he's worth as though there’s something very interesting on the wall next to him. He knows RK900 is looking, and RK900 knows that he knows because he stubbornly refuses to look back.

“Go talk to him,” says Tina, again.

His ears are flushed, thinks RK900, and stands up.

#detroit become human #gavin reed #rk900 #reed900 #this isn't writing #sketch #WELL THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH FROM ME #eta what the shit #does tumblr mobile not do keep reading cuts?! #s...sorry anyone who is reading on mobile #but also read the whole thing i dare you #it's a dare you have to do it

[detectivemarkiprincess]

HOSTing a Cinematic Story

~EDIT~ This post will probably update a couple of times because Mod Gre missed some things and we really want to show you just how strange all of the similarities are with this stuff. We know it’s most likely wrong but we needed to get it out to cleanse our minds to make way for new theories, so if you give us crap for this I will kick the cult out of you. 

Today, kiddies, I’m going to talk about one of our little ego friends and how a lot of shit (”evidence” but really it’s only circumstantial evidence) leads to all signs of them being the true mastermind behind all of this. 

So let’s all give a mildly warm (you don’t even have to applaud) welcome for someone we all know. The omniscient man who can’t even see. The Host.

Now here’s what you’re probably already saying. “Well, Mark retired all the Cyndago egos” and I would nod and say ‘you’re right’. But let’s look at this from a not close-minded point of view for a moment. 

Consider this. The infamous Author is the character who we see in Cyndago’s “Danger In Fiction” videos. The Host, never appears in any of their videos, and while it does start off saying ‘Danger in Fiction’ that doesn’t mean he appeared on Cyndago’s channel. In fact, Mod Fe searched their whole channel and found out that the little teaser clip of The Host isn’t even there. I don’t think you can even find it on Mark’s channel. So let’s take the rest of this theory to consider the possibility that The Host is not a retired ego, but The Author is the retiree.

So now that we’ve opened up your mind and expanded your horizons a little, let’s continue on down this path suggesting that The Host is in fact, behind everything. And where I want to start, is his origin video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UZ-RduHFYs

Now, this video dates back as far as 3 years ago on YouTube. 3 years ago was 2015. 👀👀👀👀 If i’m correct that’s when spoopy stuff kind of slowly started happening in the Markiplier-verse.

But let’s talk about the contents of the video. We’ll start off with the quick clip we see of The Host, placing a pair of headphones on his head. Headphones that look like Mark’s. Not to mention he has a microphone in front of him. But most importantly, he’s sitting in front of a screen. Sound familiar? It should. The man we all know and love as Markiplier does the exact same thing for every video he makes.

Sorry for the quality of the second image, I know it’s a bit dark, but it’s him putting on a pair of headphones. Also I’d like to point out a very familiar mannerism he does in this video. That mannerism being cracking his neck right before he puts the headphones on.

Perhaps he puts some of his mannerisms into the characters he writes? That’s write you heard me correctly. 

But back to The Host video for a hot second. Something else very familiar to us, that has been appearing quite a bit lately keeps appearing.

Do those static-y TVs look familiar? 

WELL

THEY

SHOULD

And I’m also going to point out that the thumbnail for Markiplier TV is ALSO 

ALSO

A static-y screen.

We see this TV appear in plenty of other videos (including multiple Cyndago videos). And I would like to point out that it’s very first appearance just so happened to be in Danger in Fiction: Chapter II.

Personally I think that the TV would serve as a means on The Host to be able to see what’s going on around him, to make sure everything is working out as planned.

But another interesting thought that Mod Fe brought up to me. The Host predicts everything that is going to happen in Markiplier TV and we see him do it, but no one else even seems to acknowledge his presence there. Weird right? Do none of the other egos know of his existence???

Anyways I wanna talk about the fact that supposedly The Host is supposed to be an upgrade of The Author. So basically he has that same ability to basically ‘write what happens’. I mean wasn’t The Author’s goal in ‘Danger In Fiction’ to write a story? So what if the entirety of the Markiplier-verse is literally just The Host’s story.

I remember a mention of trying to find a name for his character. What if The Host’s character is a self-insert. What if it’s you, Y/N. 

Not to mention the thing Mark said in the WMW ‘Explanation’ video. He said something along the lines of, “Why would Warf mention a story that everyone knows?” Which made us think of this:

Then he changed his Tumblr tag from ‘I like butts’ to...

Who else do we know that’s interested in stories/story-telling? 

Exactly. But what if his characters are starting to become self-aware, just like Warf did. Just like Warf made Abe ‘break his role’, his cliche. Which, speaking of cliches, remember how when Abe slipped into his “detective black and white tropey noir” thing?

Kinda reminds you of this doesn’t it?

Don’t forget the correlations we see between “go back to sleep...” and “Danger in Fiction.”

That being said. What if all this is just a story being written by The Host? It would be incredibly helpful if this were actually true, but then again I vaguely recall Mark saying it wasn’t the Host in some past video (though I couldn’t tell you which one).

Ugh.

Honestly, take this all with a grain of salt. We just thought this was weird and now we can get back to other theories. If nothing else, it’s good fuel for fanfics and headcanons. 

~Mod Gre (and Fe!)

#markiplier #markiplier theories #wkm #who killed mariplier #wilford motherloving warfstache #wmw #markiplier tv #go back to sleep #dont remember #the host #warfstache #wilford warfstache #abe the detective #darkiplier #cyndago #danger in fiction #tvs #television #stories #van vlogs #markiplier cinematic universe #mcu

[dcarevu]

DCAU: Beware the Gray Ghost

“When crime haunts the night, a silent crusader carries the torch of justice. Those with evil hearts beware for out of the darkness comes the Gray Ghost!”

Batman meets his influence, while simultaneously, in a way, meeting himself from another universe. How is this possible? Find out next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel! Well, okay, maybe not, you could just scroll down… So was this episode a tired, old has-been or a star worth remembering?

Episode: 18 Robin: No Writer(s): Garin Wolf (Teleplay), Tom Ruegger (Teleplay/Story), Dennis O’Flaherty (Story) Director: Boyd Kirkland Animator: Spectrum Airdate: November 4, 1992 Grade: A

Beware the Gray Ghost is a fantastic episode of Batman the Animated Series with something there to satisfy the older and newer fans, bridging the gap between them. And in fact, historically, it kinda did just that, bringing new respect to a certain actor who guest starred in this one! It is also an episode that I noticed has a very distinct feel to it, turning it into a tribute to not only the old Batman show from the 60’s, but also just old, Twilight Zone-esque noir crime shows in general. The music, the plot, some of the more subtle details, it’s all there. But instead of using these to craft some sort of parody or critique, it all ends up being a very respectful look at days past while undoubtedly still being Batman the Animated Series.

“The Graaaaaayyyyy Ghost!”

Spectrum animation is back with this one (which is odd, because apparently they shut down after bankrupting themselves with Heart of Ice… Anyone know how this all worked?), but in addition to that, my copy of Batman the Animated Series on Blu Ray just arrived! I couldn’t be happier that the first episode we watched on Blu Ray was a Spectrum episode. This created a very noticeable leap in animation quality. I’ll go more into detail at the end of this post also, giving my basic first impressions on how the Blu Ray release stacks up against the DVD one. But yeah, I’ll say it right now, it makes the show go from beautiful to breathtaking. Some of the color-usage in this episode is the best the show had done up to this point, and a variety of styles was used.

We have the scenes which are in exclusively black and white (displayed when we get a look at the original Grey Ghost tv show), we have the sepia-toned bits showing Bruce Wayne’s childhood, we have the bloody reds when explosions and fires happen (fire count!), and then we have the typical dark-deco look of the show. They all flow together seamlessly, and you can’t help but admire how realized this episode must have been before it was finished and then aired on TV. I cannot think of a single way I would improve the look of this one, aside from one or two funky-looking shots of Batman. 

One of the few funky shots of Batman...

...but they’re made up for by how awesome some of the other shots are.

The closest to a perfect episode (animation-wise) you’re gonna get. Period. Char (again, my watching-buddy, and DCAU-virgin) pointed out the animation for when Batman and Grey Ghost are hauling ass away from the exploding remote-controlled cars too. Very dynamic angles were used that only studios like Spectrum and TMS could have pulled off.

If Akom worked on this scene, it would have been such a disaster. Speaking of Akom, now I’m thinking of their version of an explosion/fire vs Spectrum’s. Just for funzies, let us compare shall we?

From The Cat and the Claw (Part 2).

These next few are from Beware the Gray Ghost.

The difference is quite clear. One makes you jump out of your seat in awe. The other makes you jump out of your seat because you’re about to upchuck your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

When I mentioned earlier something about this episode never straying into parody-territory, well, it does not necessarily look back at the genre/Batman show and play it completely seriously either. They walked a thin line between both and decided to put Bruce Wayne into a setting that we can all relate to; sitting in front of the tv, watching your favorite show before bed.

The Gray Ghost in this story isn’t an old, retired superhero, or a superhero turned villain. He’s an actor, and one that played in a somewhat dated, silly “superhero” drama. This immediately adds a sense of seriousness and realness to it while also managing to not let the cornier aspects go. Both worlds exist in this episode. The whacky Gray Ghost show, and the noir, gothic world of Batman the Animated Series. They don’t necessarily have to merge in a typical way and clash tones, because they are able to reference and display the Gray Ghost show as fictional. The way it’s used makes it all relatable, and it gives us a look at what influenced the dark knight, along with a borderline-tragic story about the downsides of fame and being known for one thing and one thing only. Batman may seem super-powered to the many thugs that he battles in the alleyways, but he is a human just like you and I, one that did have a childhood at one point. Even if that childhood was tragically ended with a few bullets. Batman feeling the level of nostalgia that he feels in the episode is so god damn adorable, and it’s another moment, much like The Cat and the Claw, where we see him being Bruce Wayne, not Batman, but also somehow being himself. It's that middle ground between the brooding, shadowy figure and the rich, chillax playboy.

A smile we rarely get to see.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Bruce acknowledges the cheesiness of the explosion causes.

While Batman is enjoying his childhood tv show, at one point almost seeming to forget why he’s watching it in the first place, we see Alfred subtly bringing that memory to life even more. Batman may no longer have a father, but Alfred is the closest thing he could ever hope for. TV superheroes clearly are not Alfred’s thing. He even mentions that fact when he says he prefers his fireplace to a black and white screen. But that’s not the point. The point is that Bruce is being transported back to feeling the warmth and protection of a father figure, while throwing out all of his worries for a bit and feeling a sense of thrill and enjoyment. Alfred seems to understand this. He knows Bruce more than anyone else could. Almost all of the flashbacks we see in this show are sad ones. And that gives the ones like this so much more power.

Alright, now, for those of you who don’t know (like all two of you), this episode has the very special guest star, Adam West. To me, this elevates the episode immensely, and strengthens the central themes and thesis tenfold. We go from a story about an actor being kind of a one-trick pony to the same story being told by someone who lived it. We go from a story where Batman gets to meet his idol to that same story featuring that very idol. And not just an idol to Batman, but an idol to many kids and adults who were around when Batman was still airing. Even those who went back and watched it later! Hell, when I was 5 or 6, I watched the shit out of Batman: The Movie, and I’m only 23. And y’know, we have things like Catman in The Fairly Oddparents, and the Fearless Ferret episode of Kim Possible. I’m not knocking on those, but damn, Adam West had to get tired of Batman goofs at some point. In fact, the team behind Batman the Animated Series was a little bit nervous that he wouldn’t wanna participate. But I’d be willing to bet that this episode made him feel good.

The Gray Ghost kinda reminds me of Arthur from The Tick. Great shot here, by the way.

The Gray Ghost is posed in the same way as Batman in the end credits. Such a cool detail that I actually missed my first time watching.

I love that despite wanting to stay far away from 60’s Batman vibes, the team wasn’t ready to dismiss it as bogus. And I get the sense that maybe Batman’s reverence in this episode is not only representative of all the Batman fans’, but also that of the crew behind Batman the Animated Series. They wanted Adam West to feel welcomed, and like the show wouldn’t exist without him (because it likely wouldn’t). So honestly, hats off to them. To further show a lack of satire, it wouldn’t surprise me if that is why Bruce Timm’s voice and image was used for the main villain.

Bruce Timm’s voice acting wasn’t the best, and I’d be willing to bet that he hated doing it, hahaha. Still a really fun nutjob of a character.

I’ll relate it to the episode of The Nostalgia Critic where he squares up against Mara Wilson. Mara Wilson, in real life, saw a Nostalgia Critic video about one of her films, and was kinda offended by it. But through a series of events, she and Doug Walker (the main creator and actor of NC) ended up cool, and he even put her in one of his videos! To make it even better, he actually had her play the antagonist, or probably more accurately, the protagonist. She basically ended up embarrassing and getting even with the Critic character in the episode. It’s still one of Doug’s favorite episodes to this day, and I have a feeling that he set the plot up like this to show her that he actually respects her quite a bit, and to soften the blow of the shit he’s thrown her way over the years. The team behind Batman the Animated Series may have done a similar thing in making Adam West’s character, along with Kevin’s Batman, defeat Bruce Timm’s character together, and if that’s the case, I love it. Not only does Adam West get the admiration of their version of Batman, but he also gets to help Bruce Timm’s character get his comeuppance. And then, of course, West’s character gets the attention he deserves at the end.

I know this is a video release, but it looks a lot like a thicker Blu Ray case. Kinda like, well, the Blu Ray release of Batman TAS!

Oh wow, never noticed this foreshadowing either. Matt Hagen will be a name that we’ll see pop up in a couple of episodes.

Garin Wolf, Tom Ruegger, and Dennis O’Flaherty obviously treaded carefully, but likely without even thinking about it. Because it is so genuine-seeming and charming. And honestly, thank you, Adam West, for being such a great sport throughout all the time you were alive. I wish there could have been another official DCAU tribute after his death, but this being the one thing we got should be more than great enough for any Batman or comic book fan out there.

This dude was pretty obviously voiced by Alfred’s voice actor. Times when having a voice with so much character takes me out of the show!

A look at some of the Gray Ghost episodes. I’d kill for a Gray Ghost animated series, following what we have shown here.

Wow, that Batmobile is awfully close to the ground.

Just a nice still. Boy does he ever look like a classic pulp costumed crimefighter. They nailed his design. 

A picture of Bruce Timm after he saw the finished product of I’ve Got Batman In My Basement.

Before I go, I’d like to, yes, mention the Blu Ray copy of the show I just received! So far, I’m mixed on it. While the visual and audio quality is mostly superior, there are a few moments of a shot being too bright or whatever. Also, I don’t know, I think that the dirtiness is part of what made the original show look so charming, and it was truly meant to be seen on the technology that was around at the time. Everything is so crisp now, and it just doesn’t look as old as it once did. On the other hand…they got rid of the spot above Batman’s lip during the theme song! Hot damn! That makes it about 10x easier to sleep at night… From what I understand, there are also some new special features and such that I can’t wait to view. All of the old ones are there too, which brings me to the pilot, The Dark Knight’s First Night. I was really, really, really hoping that they would bring in the original sound for it. On the volume 1 DVD, I was always kinda weirded out that it said the original music and sounds were lost. I mean, as far as the music goes…it’s just music from the 1989 Batman film, how hard can that be to get ahold of..? Hell, one of the versions on Youtube has the original music and sounds, so what gives? Could it be a copyright issue or something? I don’t know, but this same problem exists on the Blu Ray release too. Kind of a shame. Oh, but wait, as a plus, this complete series doesn’t just include every episode, but it also comes with Mask of the Phantasm and Subzero! I hate when complete series box sets don’t come with the movies that are just as much part of the series. This is an incredibly consistent problem across basically every tv show ever, and I get why it’s a thing, but it still annoys me. This problem doesn’t exist with Batman the Animated Series any longer. Well. Kinda. Mystery of the Batwoman is strangely…not included? I know that this one was technically released much later, and I also remember it sucking, but it’s still a part of the show! Why not include it? Personally, if I were in charge, I also would have thrown in Batman and Harley Quinn too, but believe me, I wasn’t banking on that one. I can forgive its absence. Overall, though, I’m super happy to own this, and even though I’ve seen all of Batman the Animated Series already, this gives me something new to enjoy with it. Also, even though it’s not a perfect release, I think I still consider it a step up over watching the show on DVD. At least, if we’re talking flat screen TVs (watching the entire show on VHS would be awesome, honestly). I give the Blu Ray release a B. Maybe a low A.

Char’s grade: A Fire count: 9

Next time: Prophecy of Doom Full episode list here!

#batman tas #batman the animated series #batman #beware the gray ghost #the gray ghost #gray ghost #dcau #dc animated universe #adam west

[prismatic-bell]

There are a couple of SMC fans on my dash who are posting, somewhat upset, about the lack of news on the Dream movies. And like, I don’t want to be a dick, I really don’t, but guys--

--please remember, this show was delayed by almost three years right out the door, for so long in fact that the original seiyuu for Mamoru was also supposed to return and instead had to drop out. What we finally got was so cheaply and badly animated that pretty much the entire creative team was fired. Some of the animators are here on Tumblr and were like “......yeeeeeeah, that’s what you get with no time and less money.” They were surprisingly open about being willing to say they were overworked and underpaid on the job, which tells me it was such a trash fire from the production side that they knew they had nothing to lose by saying something. Knowing a little bit about how the animation industry works, I can tell you that means it was beyond bad on the production side. It was hellish in ways you can’t even imagine if confirmed animators for the series were willing to criticize their working conditions, especially because Toei is a very large company that employs several animation houses.

Meanwhile, Toei was charging $80 per two episodes for the Blu-Rays, which weren’t even fully remastered. (Compare the SMC remasters to, say, the Madoka remaster or the YOI remaster. I’m not entirely a fan of this practice--if your animators were well-paid and trained to begin with you wouldn’t need remasters--but I recognize that there is an industry standard now, and I have to adhere to it.) These came out in conjunction with bizarre, Toei-licensed merch like . . . . a real diamond version of Serenity’s tiara and a Sailor Moon wedding license, stuff that went well beyond the range of “hardcore fan” and into “what the fuck are you doing.” They were out for every nickel they could grab without spending any money whatsoever. When the show finally moved from webseries to TV, it had a weird, sporadic air schedule and like, what was it, over a year’s hiatus between Black Moon/Mugen?

We have seen some new art. There’s a promo image of Usagi floating around for the 25th anniversary that has the 1992 color palette but an updated design that look like the Marco Albierto drawings and the better moments from Season One of SMC had a baby, and it’s actually hella cute. But . . . .

. . . . . but I honestly suspect I know what that image is for. What’s coming up in 2020?

The Olympics in Tokyo.

And who is the mascot?

. . . . . yep.

I don’t want to be an asshole, but guys. They’re not going to release the movie this year. You’re probably not even going to see art of it this year. This reboot is and has always been a cash grab. If they actually go through with the movies--and I have to admit I don’t see them being willing to lay out the money, given that they wouldn’t even lay out the money for 13 episodes of what should have been a slam-dunk “welcome home”--you probably won’t see art of it in 2019, either. Maybe by summer, if you’re lucky. But movies themselves? Those will come out in spring of 2020, to capitalize on the Olympic Games. They’ll be using money from Olympics licensing to fund the movies, because the reboot has not done well. (In fact what I’m finding online says it’s considered “finished.” The movies are a sequel.) Yeah, S3 turned things around somewhat for people who were willing to give it a second chance--but a lot of us were not, not after we came running to the reboot with open arms and S1 and S2 slapped us across the faces like a dead fish of “HAHA GOTCHA WE TOLD YOU THIS WAS FOR THE FANS, FUCK YOU.” They lost a lot of potential audience that never came back, and I can’t find a whole heck of a lot on licensing outside the US and Japan.

They’re going to all but have to make it an Olympics tie-in. I don’t want to break y’all’s hearts or start a fight, I don’t. But you’re expecting timeliness and effort from a company that has gone out of its way to show they don’t give a shit about Sailor Moon fans, or timeliness, or promises, or even a basic modicum of quality. Don’t hold your breath, because I can see it coming now: you are in for a very long wait, or I will be incredibly surprised.

(I’m not tagging this because it is a personal opinion and I don’t want to start wank. This isn’t about how I do or don’t feel about this show, which is why I have not actually named it fully anywhere in the post, because I’m not here to harsh someone’s squee. It’s about the proven track record of this company over the last six years with this property, and the fact that I see people getting upset over something that’s not going to change.)

[mannartt]

AAATEE at MannArtt | The Best T Shirt Shop Online?

As you may or may not know, Mann is the primary designer, as well as the Creative Director, for AAATEE.com. We think with his talent, we will one day have the best t shirt shop online. Or a damn good one, anyway. Certainly when it comes to quality. I don't think we're ever going to compete on quantity. Some of these guys have a ten year head start on us, and have been pumping out ten (mostly crappy) shirts a day for years now. 'Cause guess what? Yeah. The t-shirt biz is like a lot of others – it's a numbers game. For every hit shirt you have, you have a few successful ones and a lot of flops. Hey, the public is fickle, and you never know what's gonna take off, and what isn't. And no, the fact your friends think a new design is badass has little to do with it. Sadly. Them's the breaks.

Made A Deal With... the Devil!

OG. Original Gamer.

Hope? Nope. Grope! So, "the best t shirt shop online." Are we there yet? Well, no. Not quite. In fact, we've got a ways to go. A long ways, actually. Our online journey (some would say mishaps and travails) has not been without complications. I'm going to address some of those here and tell you where we're headed. OK? Got it? Good. ;-)

Welcome to AAATEE. Sort Of. Kinda.

First off, to reiterate, without Mann, there would be no awesome, funny, badass, offensive t shirts for our endeavors, nor would there be much of a AAATEE to speak of. And as it happens, given the fact we're going through yet another major transition, he's best positioned to "show the flag" online while we sort things out. So, for right now and the foreseeable future, MannArtt will serve as the hub for AAATEE. Eventually, we'll get the whole mess sorted and become (ahem) the best t shirt shop online. Or something like it. Till then, please look for us here. Over the last few years, AAATEE has been going through various fire drills to try and come up with a business model that works online. We've been selling tees in the real world for a long time, so that's not the problem. In fact, it still primarily depends on that one thing you've heard lampooned before: Location, location, location!

It's not hard to sell your stylin' rags if you can put them in front of a lot of eyeballs. Do that, and you'll sell the hell out of 'em. If foot traffic is decent, you're golden. Which is why you've traditionally seen t shirt shops in places where lots of people gather, like malls, beaches, tourist spots, etc. It's the same online in that it's all about traffic. As with retail, you need to grab those eyeballs, hold them, and then hold them long enough to turn a lookie-loo in a buyer.

"Start A Tshirt Shop Online," They Said. "It's EASY!" They Said. "Go Ahead," They Said.

Having a t shirt shop online is actually a lot harder, in some ways, than in the "real world." Why? Because when you've actually got somebody in your store, they can't simply click a link and vanish – you "own" them, at least for a few minutes. Nor are they constantly being distracted by "outside" forces and/or bombarded with messages from other vendors (or if they are, you're an idiot). They're there, after all. In your store! Odds are, they're going to look around. Even if they don't buy anything at that moment, they know where you are and have a conscious memory of having been there ("Yeah, I like that t shirt shop over on Main. It's the best tee shirt shop I've been to around here..."). Online, if you lose them, don't have a way of reaching them again, and they didn't join your list (or at very least, bookmark your site), you're probably sunk. Odds are, you'll never see or hear from them again. It's as if your store vanished off of Main without a trace or worse yet, a memory... So, "they" (the experts) told us we needed to get online for two reasons: 1) it's easier and more lucrative than a brick and mortar store, and 2) retail is dying. Malls are closing, people aren't shopping in "the real world," like they used to. More and more commerce is happening online. Well, we can have a long debate at the veracity of #1, but there's no doubt about the truth of #2. Even in good locations, foot traffic has dropped by over 50% in recent years. Not good if you're a retailer, or a vendor to retailers.

It's really hard to sell your t shirts, mugs, hoodies and other goodies at this mall. So, towards the end of getting in the online game and having "the best tshirt site online," we've tried many different retailing platforms, from Amazon to Shopify, ecomm to Shopify, Etsy to Teepublic, and more promotion methods than we care to count. Part of the problem is that we're all very busy, which means we can't devote our undivided attention to something which pretty much requires it. AAATEE online was supposed to be a fun little side hustle, but that doesn't mean we don't want it to be lucrative and successful – which it hasn't always been. Like a lot of misguided online ventures (floundering around, trying to figure shit out), we've put cubic man hours into online only to get very little out of it. So, to say it's been asses and elbows, chaos and confusion, one clusterf*ck after another, and a major disappointment to boot, would be the understatement of all time.

You Can Help Us Make AAATEE The Best T Shirt Shop Online. How? Read On...

CLICK HERE for MORE... If you want to help us, there's several things you can do. And boy, will we appreciate it. Yeah! Thanks. :-D Furthermore, you'll earn all kinds of good karma, redeemable on your next reincarnation, so bear this in mind. ;-) Here's what you do... 1) Be sure to LIKE this page. 2) Share this page to your friends on social media. There are buttons floating along the side of this post made just for you. Or, use the LIKE button above, which also has share buttons. 3) Make a donation to Mann to keep him going, either via the LIKE button or via Ko-fi. 4) Get on the list, so we can keep you up to date, give you the inside skinny (including input on new designs), provide EXCLUSIVE products and discounts. No spam, no scam, no flim-flam, we promise. We do not now and never will share/sell/rent your info with other parties. Nope. Never. Not gonna happen. 5) Go to our page on Teespring, register if you haven't already, login and hit the FOLLOW BUTTON! In this regard, Teespring is like every other site these days: the more Likes you have (in this case, Followers), the better internal results you'll have.

CLICK IMAGE to visit our growing shop on TEEPUBLIC! We've got a lot more than tees, too. Phone cases, book bags, laptop and iPad cases, etc. CHECK IT OUT! ;-)

Plans for The Best T Shirt Shop Online. See Into the Future! (Whoo… Spooky).

CLICK HERE to Continue Reading… So as a result of our various misadventures, our stuff is scattered hither and yon across a number of platforms all over the web. Sloppy, I know. Because of this, there's no one place (as of yet) where you can get everything at once. So what this means is, if you wanna buy, you're going to be going to Amazon, Etsy, Teepublic, etc.. Yeah, it's a kludge and we're unhappy about it. But them's the breaks (for now). For those who are interested, our current plan is to base our POD business – for about 100 different reasons we won't bore you with here – out of Teepublic, which, according to the criteria of some, already is the best tshirt site online. But like many others of it's type, it's actually a store of stores, if you will – a kind of mall of tee shirt designs. We love that it's an independent site supporting artists, we love that they don't micromanage you the way some big name sites do, and we love that they have so many additional products you can offer without onerous, time-consuming additional setups. Once Teepublic is fully fleshed out, we're probably going to retire the other sites we're working with. The reasons are many and varied, and many are far beyond the scope of this presentation, but if for no other reason than to simply things as much as possible, it's best for us to work out of ONE location, rather than keep juggling many. In the meantime, we're re-vamping AAATEE.COM for, well, like, the 100th time – or so it seems like. Stay tuned and we'll keep you posted. When it's time for the BIG ROLLOUT and PREMIERE, we'll let ya know.

President Trump, Liar in Chief.

It's not fantastic... it's FANAVERAGE!

Better Call Saul? Better bring the Lysol!

Come For A T Shirt, Stay For A Drink* (Well, A Mug).

One day soon (we're about 70% of the way there right now), you'll be able to get ALL of our cool, funny, badass and offensive designs at our new t shirt shop, and grab more than just shirts, homes. That's part of the point, for us. It's "one stop shopping" for you. Eventually, long haul, the plan is to build AAATEE into an ecomm store in it's own right, as we sorta did, a few years back, with Shopify. Only this time we'll be doing it entirely with Wordpress, which we can control 100% while not paying through the nose for the privilege. We hope you'll bear with us till then.

Breaking Bad Mug - "I AM THE DANGER" - Walter White aka Heisenberg - Available from our shop, and you know you gotta have one! In the meantime, links herein should take you right out to the platform to browse and buy. If there's any hesitation about signing up for yet another site... don't worry! You don't have to register or go through any malarky at Teepublic – you can buy as a guest! If you like our badass designs, we strongly urge you to sign up for our list. We DON'T bombard you with spam, and you'll be the first to know when Mann's got new designs in the works, and when they're going to be available. Please LIKE THIS POST and/or share us to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, etc. Thanks! :-D *Now, about that drink... Read the full article

#AAATEE #aaatee.com #gear #merch #t-shirts

[sunbrights]

dvd commentary: viewfinder

(For anon, because I also have a special place in my heart for "viewfinder", and I wanted to talk about it more.

This isn't going to go on AO3, for a few reasons that I'll spare you guys from getting into, but I know that Tumblr isn't very kind to long text posts. If this is a pain to read let me know and I'll try to find another alternative!

I hope you guys enjoy!)

I originally wanted to write "viewfinder" as the first of a series of quickfics exploring friendships that have a lot of potential, in my opinion, but don't get a lot of screentime for whatever reason. I really enjoy both Peko and Mahiru as characters, though, and the longer I went the more I wanted to do a deeper dive, which is how it came to be what is now.

(I still want to do something similar to what I was originally planning, though I don't think they'll be quickfics anymore; probably longer oneshots like this one. I do have another fic planned in the same vein that's intended to be a sort of companion to "viewfinder," though that might be a while out.)

Essentially, I was interested first by the fact that Peko mentions Mahiru a few times in her FTEs, which leaves open the possibility for them to be friends even if it's never looked at explicitly in the main game. There are a lot of peppered references to both Peko's and Mahiru's FTEs in here as a result of that (which may or may not have already been obvious). Second, I was interested in the impact on Peko of having to kill her, outside of the consequences for herself and Fuyuhiko in the context of the killing game, especially if the two of them had been friends beforehand. Striking a balance between those two concepts, tonally, was really tough, but in the end I decided I didn't want to leave either one of them out.

Nitty gritty commentary under the cut!

** **

Koizumi has taken at least four photographs of her since they arrived on the island. One was a group photo, taken the first day; the other three were taken covertly, when she thought Peko wasn’t aware. (Peko cannot afford not to be aware.)

I really agonized over how many photos Mahiru would reasonably have taken at this point. I think this number (and the one later, when Mahiru shows Peko all of them) changed at least five or six times. Why?? I have no idea. Weird hang ups in editing hell.

She does the same with the others, with similar frequency; most of them rarely notice, if ever. Peko allows it because she sees no reason not to, but she does consider the possibility of Koizumi having goals beyond a few candid photographs.

(She brings this up to the young master, and he rolls his eyes.

“Koizumi’s a fucking goody-goody,” he says, feet kicked up on the edge of his desk. “She’s not worth worrying about. If it bugs you, tell her to knock it off. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit what she does.”)

The next time Koizumi takes a photo of her, Peko is out splitting coconuts on the beach. It starts out as just her, Mioda, and a handful of others, but once they start shouting about the quality of the coconut juice, it isn’t long before the rest of the class begins to file in.

This section was tough to get right, and a lot of it ended up getting cut; I almost ended up cutting the whole section (I did a couple times, I think), but I'm glad I was eventually able to get it where I wanted it. The coconut special event in particular felt like a good starting place to me because it's the earliest point that we see Peko bonding and socializing with the others, even if she didn't really intend to.

At one point Souda, Hinata, and Mioda hold six coconuts out in a line; Peko slices through all of them in a single swing, and hears the familiar snap of Koizumi’s shutter behind her.

The others all whoop as the tops of the coconuts hit the sand. Koizumi rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling even as she steps back. When they start handing out the remaining shells, Peko brings one over to her.

“I was wondering,” she says, after Koizumi has taken the first sip of her juice, “would it be all right for me to see that photo?”

“The one I just took of you? Sure, if you want.” Koizumi pulls on the strap of her camera to swing it back up towards her. It looks unwieldy to hold in one hand, but she does it without much effort at all. “Don’t worry, you look really cool in it.”

The digital display of the camera is grainy and cluttered with functional symbols, but the most important parts of the image are clear. Peko discovers that she isn’t the subject of the photo, as she’d assumed— instead, she is the dynamic foreground to the actual subjects: Souda, Hinata, and Mioda, their hands held out and their faces lit up in varying degrees of awe, fear, and delight. The line of Peko’s shoulders and the draw of her blade act as a frame for the smiles of her classmates.

(Peko can also tell that her form is off: she’s holding her right shoulder too high, and it caused the cut in the final coconut to be uneven. It’s hardly Koizumi’s fault, but having such laziness immortalized will bother her for days.)

“What do you think?”

“It’s... surprising.”

“‘Surprising’?” Koizumi draws the word out. It’s the wrong one, going by the way her brows pinch together. She twists the camera back towards herself to squint at the display. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peko struggles to elaborate. It’s difficult to find the words to describe something when she isn’t certain of what it is in the first place. “It could have simply captured the trick they asked me to perform,” she decides on, “but instead it captures the feelings of everyone involved.” She hesitates, then clarifies: “I like it.”

Peko's much better than Hajime at giving the kind of feedback Mahiru likes to hear. She's a thoughtful character in general, but I also think she'd be familiar with what helpful feedback sounds like, sort of a counterpoint to her own criticism of herself above.

Koizumi looks up at her, eyebrows lifting. “Yeah.” She smiles, and it’s easy and friendly. “Yeah, that’s it exactly, actually. Thank you.”

Mahiru's smiles get mentioned a lot in this story, which is intentional; Peko's hyperawareness of them is meant to play into her own self-consciousness over struggling with smiling herself.

“You’re welcome,” Peko says, even if she doesn’t understand what she has to be thanked for. Koizumi seems pleased regardless, and she leans over to show Peko the other photos she’d taken so far.

There’s no harm in letting her keep taking them, she decides.

*

They have lunch together, sometimes. Both she and Koizumi tend to eat earlier than the others, so the hotel restaurant is often empty; on the days when neither of them are away doing other things, they sit out on the balcony and Koizumi shows her the photos she’d taken that morning.

“You know, I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about,” Koizumi says one day, dimming a photo of Togami and his spread of breakfast from her camera’s display. She pulls a small, squat album out of her camera bag and lays it out on the table between them. “Here. These are all the pictures I’ve taken of you so far.”

By Peko’s tally, Koizumi has taken six photos of her: the four she’d already been aware of, the one of her slicing the coconuts, and an additional group photo since.

In this album, there are eight.

I feel like a talent like Mahiru's has to be multifaceted; she's creatively and technically talented, obviously, but she also has to be adept enough to physically take photographs in a way that captures moments without imparting an observer effect.

That, and I think it creates a point of commonality between Peko's talent and Mahiru's (Peko being constantly aware of herself and her surroundings vs Mahiru separating herself from her surroundings in order to document them) that helps make them peers, in a backwards sort of way.

“I feel like I must be getting something wrong,” Koizumi says. She leans her chin on one hand, and the puff of her sigh scatters her bangs. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get the right shot of you.”

Peko touches the edge of a photo of herself leaning on the hotel restaurant’s railing. She tries to remember when it possibly could have been taken. “I don’t understand.”

“Well… Okay, look at this one.” Koizumi taps her nail against one of the group shots on the page: all eight girls standing together, smudged with chocolate and flour. “You had fun that day, right? At least, I thought you did.”

“Yes,” Peko answers. She studies the photo, trying to understand the flaw. The form is excellent and the colors are bright; it’s everything one would expect from Koizumi’s talent. “I… enjoy baking, sometimes. It was a welcome distraction.”

I like the idea of Peko enjoying cooking, especially baking, in spite of her not liking sweets. (The logic being that it's something fun she can do, and the results can be shared with people she cares about to make them happy, too.) Y'all probably can probably see that cropping up in a few stories of mine.

“But you’re the only one not smiling in the picture.” Koizumi flips the pages of her album back and forth. “See? You’re not smiling in any of them. This one kind of comes close,” she touches an image of Peko sitting together with Tanaka and Mioda while the Four Dark Devas of Destruction explore a sand castle, “but I’m not sure it counts. You look happy, but you’re not really smiling.”

This is the first reference to a FTE, specifically Peko's third one:

PEKO: Mahiru told me that... I'm the only one who doesn't smile for her pictures.

Oh. It’s about that. Peko closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It wasn’t my intention to ruin your photos.” If Koizumi’s goal is to capture moments of positivity in their circumstances, it makes sense that Peko wouldn’t fit into that vision. “If you’d rather I avoid being in them from now on, I understand.”

“What?” Peko feels Koizumi’s hand clasp around her wrist. When she opens her eyes, Koizumi has her other hand splayed out over the open page of the album. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all, Peko-chan. I just thought... maybe there are other times when you’re having more fun, you know? Maybe I should take pictures of you then instead.”

I think ultimately Mahiru's photos celebrate mundane joy in her friends' lives; I don't think she'd want them to be a source of anxiety for anyone, especially not a friend.

Even through Koizumi’s fingers, Peko can see how the photos of her don’t fit in well with the ones on the opposite page. There is a clear interruption in the theme of the collection. Looking again, she doesn’t know how she didn’t notice it the first time.

“It isn’t that,” she says. “Smiling can be… a challenge, for me. It may be more efficient for you to focus on the others.”

“Oh.” Koizumi’s forehead creases in what Peko assumes is a combination of sympathy and confusion. “Well, that’s okay. It’s not really about the smiles themselves, anyway. It’s more… whether or not you’re happy in the moment.” She smiles then, one that’s small and apologetic, and for a moment Peko can’t fathom it ever being that easy. “So don’t worry about it. Okay?”

Peko says, “I’ll try,” and means it.

She still thinks about it for the rest of the afternoon.

*

Koizumi takes fewer photos in the days after Hanamura’s execution. It’s understandable; there aren’t many causes for any of them to be smiling in that aftermath. She spends most of her mornings and afternoons out away from the others, but when Peko asks to see the photos, she declines. (“I’ve never been proud of my landscapes,” she admits. “It always feels like there’s something missing.”)

Little crossover tidbit: Natsumi preferring to take pictures of nature in "by the claw of dragon" is a reference to my headcanon here that Mahiru doesn't enjoy it much.

The next time she arrives at the hotel restaurant early enough for lunch, she’s the brightest Peko has seen her in days.

“Peko-chan! Look, I have a surprise for you.”

She slides onto the opposite bench and sets her lunch aside, an afterthought. “I was right, I think.” She unzips one of the outside pockets of her camera bag to produce a photo, newly printed. “I just needed to get the right shot of you.”

Having said the above re: Mahiru not wanting her photos to be a source of anxiety for people, I do think that she would keep trying, and that she probably would have been one of the best people (next to Hajime) to help Peko get past her mental blocks.

Peko doesn’t understand. She’d only been practicing with Hinata for a couple days, and his comedic timing leaves much to be desired. “Is that…?”

“It sure is.” Koizumi’s smile is proud and eager. “Here, see for yourself.”

She slides the photo across the table, and Peko draws it toward herself with the tip of her finger, careful not to smudge.

It’s a picture of her from earlier that morning. Her, and the young master.

“What do you know, right? I was so worried he was going to ruin it.” Koizumi sets her chin in both hands, and Peko can see the way her smile flattens out sardonically. “But it turns out even Kuzuryuu can take a nice picture every now and then.”

It is a nice picture. The angle is high, and neither she nor the young master have noticed the camera; Koizumi must have taken it from the restaurant stairs. She vaguely remembers the moment: she’d passed him on her way out of the hotel, and had only paused to say good morning. She remembers him, half turned towards her with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders and his smile relaxed. In Koizumi’s photo, she smiles back.

His singular order from the very first day had been to maintain the illusion that they were only classmates. They look it, in this picture. He’d be satisfied with it, she thinks.

Not sure how obvious this is, but the picture described here is intended to be the one Fuyuhiko mentions during chapter 5, if you talk to him in the hotel restaurant before going to the ruins with Sonia.

FUYUHIKO: It's the first time... I've seen a photo of Peko and me where we look like equals... FUYUHIKO: Tch, Mahiru... When the hell did she even take this photo?

“Sorry,” Koizumi says, after a moment. Her voice is gentler, and when Peko looks up her brows have drawn together, concerned. Oh. She’d misinterpreted Peko’s silence as offense. “I didn’t mean to— just be careful, Peko-chan, okay? I know you’re trying to help him and all, but that guy is bad news. You shouldn’t get involved with him.”

I figure that if anyone would have picked up on the fact that Peko is the one constantly "bumping into" Fuyuhiko and ferrying information back and forth to him, it would be Mahiru.

“He is… abrasive,” Peko allows. (She has rehearsed this answer in her head many times.) Koizumi’s brows disappear behind her bangs. “We shouldn’t let our guard down. But I think with time he might be open to cooperation.”

“Peko-chan.” Koizumi’s voice is still gentle, but has dropped low enough to not quite be called a whisper; it borderlines on conspiratorial. She chooses every word with careful deliberation. “This is the only picture I’ve been able to take of you smiling, even a little bit. Ever. Okay?”

Peko wills herself not to react, even as she feels her face and fingertips go cold. If she has in any way compromised—

“I’m not going to pretend I get it. Because I swear to every god there is, I don’t.” Her smile turns lopsided and embarrassed, and all at once Peko understands the sort of assumption she’s made. Her cold cheeks suddenly flush warm. “Seriously. That guy? Really?”

She has not rehearsed an answer for this.

Something in her expression must balk, because Koizumi holds both hands up, defensive. “No, it’s okay. I’m not going to ask, just—” She bites her lip, and Peko sees the way she rehearses her words in her head. “A guy like that, the kind of world he comes from? He’s not ever going to change. He’s too wrapped up in himself and his image to bother. Maybe he’s not dangerous yet, but he’s definitely not worth your time. Or anybody else’s, for that matter.”

Combine the above with how aggressively Mahiru and Fuyuhiko butt heads right out of the gate, and I ended up with this conversation. Mahiru wants Peko to be happy, but she also doesn't want her getting caught up with someone she sees as unreliable, self-absorbed, and dangerous. The friction that comes from that in Peko and Mahiru's friendship is inevitable, in my opinion, especially since Mahiru doesn't have all the context.

“We are in a dire situation,” Peko hears herself say. “Our only hope of success is through cooperation.”

Koizumi’s expression twists. “No, no. I know. You’re right.” She turns the photo on the table back toward her, and looks at that instead of at Peko. “But you have to admit, he’s not exactly falling over himself to cooperate with us, either.”

The young master wouldn’t disagree. Peko only shakes her head.

“I’m just saying, as a friend? You don’t need to bend over backwards to help someone who obviously doesn’t want it.” Koizumi picks the photo up by the corner, and is careful not to bend it when she puts it back in her bag. She zips the pocket closed with more force than she needs to. “Let him deal with his own problems.”

And a little dramatic irony, for flavor.

She is wrong, in more ways than she’ll ever understand.

*

That morning, the young master knocks on her door first.

Not pictured: me grappling with the timeline of chapter 2 to make any of this work, after I realized just how short it is between Fuyuhiko playing Twilight Syndrome and Mahiru's death. Say what you want about his yakuza talents, my boy can crank out a revenge plot like it's a frickin' office memo.

The photos must have been taken in the heat of the moment, but their composition is still stark and harshly beautiful. The framing of Natsumi-sama’s blood-spattered corpse makes excellent use of the rule of thirds.

Peko says, “Koizumi,” before the young master has had a chance to say anything at all.

When he throws the open envelope across the length of her cottage, the rest of the photos spill and scatter across her floor like fallen leaves.

*

Peko offers to be the one to deliver the message, but the young master insists he do it himself. She watches the mailbox instead, to ensure his message is heard and understood.

By noon, the mailbox is empty.

Koizumi doesn’t respond immediately. It’s understandable; if the young master doesn’t remember the incident, it’s unlikely she does, either. Peko watches for her anyway, and late in the afternoon, Koizumi sits on the deck of her cottage with the largest of her photo albums in her lap.

Peko knows it to be the one with the final prints of her photos, after she’s had time to crop and color balance them. Her face is lined with concentration and stress, less like reminiscing and more like personal critique, but Peko has made enough threats in her lifetime to see the fear around every edge, in the shakiness of Koizumi’s muscles and the tightness of her mouth.

If you've read some of my other stuff, you might have seen that I like to write in very, very close third person. That makes communicating the arcs of characters who aren't the POV character (through the filter of the POV character) a fun challenge for me, and this is a good example of me trying to do that with Mahiru. I wanted to highlight the point after Mahiru has seen the pictures but before she's played Twilight Syndrome, when she must have recognized the pictures as hers but been shocked and afraid by the contents. Peko interprets it a little differently.

The message has both been heard and understood.

That confirmed, there is no reason for Peko to interact with her any further, now that she’s been identified as an enemy of the Kuzuryuu Clan. Clearly, Peko has made a grave error in underestimating her as a potential threat; any further mistakes would only exacerbate the damage.

However, since arriving on the island the young master has had only one, singular request.

This is intended to be the first conflict between Peko's duty as a "tool" and the new friendships she's been making -- she uses her duty as an excuse to keep hanging out with Mahiru, right after she points out to herself that she shouldn't.

Peko holds out her hand to get Koizumi’s attention.

“I wasn’t back in time for lunch today,” she explains. “Could I look at your photos with you now instead?”

Koizumi still smiles, even if it’s thin. “Yeah. Here, come sit with me.”

Ordinarily, Koizumi is happy enough to talk through her photographs while Peko observes, the whens and whats more than the hows and whys. (“My work needs to speak for itself,” Koizumi had said, the one time Peko had asked, “If I have to explain it, then I didn’t do my job right.”) Today they sit in silence while she pages through the album, one by one.

Many of these final prints are ones that Peko has yet to see. Owari and Nidai, bloodied and grinning, grasping each other’s forearms. Saionji with two packets of gummy bears flared out in front of her face like twin fans. Souda with a screwdriver in one hand and Nanami’s Gamegirl in the other, and Nanami sitting beside him, reaching for it with both hands. Hanamura in the hotel kitchen, flipping flapjacks in a pan while Mioda cheers in the background.

You might have noticed by now that I had a lot of fun coming up with different scenarios for Mahiru's photos in this fic. I was always a little sad we didn't get to see more of them!

(There is exactly one picture of Koizumi herself, where she isn’t in a group. The photo isn’t candid, but she doesn’t look prepared, and the framing is sloppy. When Koizumi reaches it in the album, she’s quick to turn the page.)

This is intended to be the picture Hajime takes of her in her final FTE:

MAHIRU: So... I was thinking about taking at least one shot of myself while I'm on this island. MAHIRU: The me... who's here like this...

“I know that it’s not the most groundbreaking subject matter ever,” Koizumi says eventually, “but that’s fine. People don’t need their lives to be groundbreaking, or dramatic, or- or tragic for there to be beauty in them. You know?”

She turns the page, and her fingers land on a photograph of Hinata caught mid-sentence, his mouth open too wide and his eyes halfway through blinking. It makes her smile, a real one that isn’t pained or forced. For that moment, the lines of stress and fear on her face smooth out into nothing.

And again, this is intended to be the photo Mahiru takes of Hajime in her first FTE:

MAHIRU: Well, I guess this is good enough. Yep, that sure is a dumb-looking face.

“Yes,” Peko answers. “I think so.”

*

Koizumi’s allotted time runs out. The young master is not inclined to give her more.

More evidence of me playing fast and loose with said unreal ch 2 timeline.

This whole section actually wasn't in the original draft of this story, and I waffled a lot on whether or not I should include it; I wanted Fuyuhiko's influence to be felt, but I didn't actually want to include him in the story itself too much. In the end I decided I needed it to bridge the arc I wanted for Peko in the story, which I'll get into in a minute.

“I’ll go with you,” Peko tells him, when they’re alone.

“No.” He’s bent over his desk, which is neat and nearly empty now that Koizumi has the photographs. All that’s left are the letters he’s just written, folded and stacked and ready to set a plan in motion. He won’t look at her. “No. Your plans aren’t changing, okay? Go- go do your thing with the girls. I’ll be done before then anyway.”

That is not an option. She can’t agree, so she doesn’t.

“I’m going to talk to her,” he goes on. His voice trembles under the weight of all his anger and anxiety. “And if that bitch has something to answer for, she’ll fucking answer for it. That’s the only thing I can do, right? That’s what Natsumi deserves.”

Peko hears it, the way his resolve doesn’t shore up the way he wants it to. There are fractures in his certainty of what he’s been taught, and every day they get a little wider; his heart is too big and beats too strongly for them not to. He struggles with it, but there is strength in struggle, not shame.

One of the remaining blank sheets of paper crumples under his left hand. He hears the fractures too, but they sound different to him than they do to her.

There is so much weighing him down.

She wants to take it away from him, or at least help him shoulder the burden. But Koizumi’s philosophies, Hinata’s advice and encouragement— all of it fails her in the moment, when it matters the most. She remembers when they were small and cold and lost in the mountains, how his face had pinched with fear and tears, how she’d failed him then, too.

Like I mentioned earlier, I was interested in Peko and Mahiru's FTEs, especially in the larger context of the main plot. If you WERE to finish Peko's FTEs before the, uh, cutoff point, for example, her later ones would necessarily need to fall around/during all the behind-the-scenes fuckery happening in chapter 2. So, with that in mind, here's this from her fourth FTE:

PEKO: Mahiru showed me her photos the other day. They were filled with images of smiling faces. PEKO: I don't know how else to say this, but... they were very nice photos. I learned that smiles give people power. [ ... ] PEKO: If I had been able to smile and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if it was a lie... PEKO: I might've been able to take away his fear.

The other piece of this is the fact that Peko wants to protect Fuyuhiko, but she doesn't do it by stopping him from killing Mahiru, which would protect everyone. In this story, I wanted to open the door to the possibility that Peko may have wanted to try and convince him away from it, through her interactions with Mahiru and Hajime and the others, but struggled with it because of the nature of her "role." In my mind, this is the point where that door shuts again, and she falls back on what she knows.

She says, “Young master—” but he’s already standing.

“Don’t call me that. Just- go, all right? I don’t have a lot of time.” He tucks the letters into the inside pocket of his jacket. “We’ll talk when it’s done.”

"I don't have a lot of time" was an inside joke with myself about how dumb the timeline of ch 2 is. That shit really got to me, y'all.

*

Koizumi is pale that morning. It makes her concealer too dark against her skin, and when she lowers her head shadows still steal into the bags under her eyes. Her hands shake when she waves at Peko from across the pool.

“Morning, Peko-chan.” Koizumi breathes in deeply, for no reason Peko can see except to steady her voice. “You’re still going to the beach with everyone today, right?”

Peko nods.

“That’s good.” Koizumi nods, too. She keeps nodding, and looks down at her hands. “I’m glad. It sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Mahiru is in a pretty dark place at this point, but her priority (like it is with Mikan and Ibuki) is still that her friends are happy and have fun. There's always tomorrow, right?

“You won’t be coming with us?”

Peko knows the answer. She asks the question anyway, because she must. Because as much as she feels for Koizumi’s position, the young master’s safety comes first, and his will comes second. There is no choice to be made.

Again: she wants to protect him, but going against his wishes to do that isn't an option. The rest of this is intended to be Peko turning to fully embrace the "tool" mentality she thinks she's supposed to have after slipping from it.

“No. I’m sorry, I wish I could.” She is hugging her arms close to herself. Her fingers tighten around her elbows until the skin under her nails turns white. “I just... I have something I need to take care of. But you should go have fun, okay?”

“You’ll be missed,” Peko tells her. It isn’t a lie, except by omission, but she still feels like something has been wedged deep beneath her sternum. “We’ll take photos. For your record.”

Peko's not talking about the beach trip. In case anybody wasn't sure.

“I’d like that. Thanks.” Even now, even with all this, Koizumi is still able to smile. For all her practicing, Peko is sure she’s learned nothing at all. “Have you seen Ibuki-chan anywhere?”

*

In the end, Koizumi never sees her approach. It’s a stroke of luck Peko doesn’t deserve, but the outcome would not have changed regardless. She will protect who she must protect. Kill who she must kill. If she can do nothing else, she can do that.

The young master reaches for his weapon, and she is there.

There was originally a transitive verb in the second clause of this sentence (I forget exactly how I phrased it) that didn't get changed to what it is now ("she is there") until the final edit. Ultimately I changed it because I wanted to emphasize Peko's attempt to take agency away from herself, especially in the context of the narrative she pushes in the trial later.

#this was actually quicker to do than i expected #so i think i'll also do one for shelf sea #since that got requested too #it feels a little like drawing back the curtain to show you guys the patchwork mess underneath tho #nerve wracking!! #i hope this is sort of what you were looking for anon! #dvd commentaries #meta thoughts #not a fic

[ricardosousalemos]

Green Day: Dookie

When he was 10 years old, long before he sang about masturbation losing its fun, Billie Joe Armstrong lost himself in music. His father had just died of cancer, and in Rodeo, Calif., a smallish East Bay suburb next to an oil refinery, Armstrong retreated into MTV, the Beatles, Van Halen, and a Stratocaster knock-off he nicknamed Blue. He grew close to schoolmate Michael Pritchard, who had his own family grief and who introduced Armstrong to British heavy metal giants like Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. Pritchard later earned the sobriquet Mike Dirnt, for his constant dirnting on bass guitar.

In high school, Armstrong and Dirnt smoked pot and played in a band called Sweet Children, finding their tribe in a tiny clique of DIY punks. By 1988, Sweet Children had their first gig at 924 Gilman Street, the Berkeley punk mecca opened the previous year by Maximumrocknroll zine founder Tim Yohannan, and Armstrong told his waitress mother he wouldn’t be graduating. Sweet Children signed to Lookout Records!, changed their name to Green Day, and put out a pair of rough but promising EPs. They brought in Frank “Tré Cool” Wright, a drummer known equally for his musicianship and his mischievousness, and with their sharply improved LP Kerplunk!, Green Day arrived.

As Kerplunk! landed on shelves in December 1991, Nirvana’s Nevermind zoomed to the top of the album charts. A band with Green Day’s momentum and punk pedigree was obvious bait for the major labels. Still, it was Armstrong’s voice, sneering and congested, that initially put one A&R exec off of Green Day’s demo. Luckily, he passed it to his producing partner, Rob Cavallo, whose father had been Prince’s manager circa Purple Rain and who, despite signing respected L.A. pop-punks the Muffs, was sorely in need of a hit.

He found one. Co-produced by Cavallo and the band themselves, Green Day’s Dookie was released on February 1, 1994. To date, the band’s Warner/Reprise debut has sold more than 16 million copies worldwide. Most of those album buyers probably know nothing about its makers’ humble origins. But that story helps to explain the unique series of balances, between showmanship and disaffection, dogmatic punk ideals and romantic stadium dreams, sweetness and scatology, partying and pain, that have turned Dookie into one of the greatest teenage wasteland albums of any generation. Armstrong’s Dookie guitar? His childhood’s trusty old Blue.

What set Dookie apart from the grunge rock bellowers of its day was Armstrong’s voice, foggy and vaguely unplaceable. “I’m an American guy faking an English accent faking an American accent,” he teased at the time. Though Armstrong’s tone was bratty, his phrasing had that lackadaisical quality that left room for listeners to fill in their own interpretations. On Dookie, Armstrong channeled a lifetime of songcraft obsession into buzzing, hook-crammed tracks that acted like they didn’t give a shit—fashionably then, but also appealingly for the 12-year-old spirit within us all. Maybe they worked so well because, on a compositional and emotional level, they were actually gravely serious. Sometimes singing about the serious stuff in your life—desire, anxiety, identity—feels a lot more weightless done against the backdrop of a dogshit-bombarded illustration of your hometown by East Bay punk fixture Richie Bucher.

“Longview,” Dookie’s outstanding first single, smacks of the most extreme disengagement: a title taken from Longview, Washington, where it happened to be played live for the first time; a loping bass line supposedly concocted while Dirnt was tripping on acid; and a theme of shrugging boredom that placed it in the ne’er-do-well pantheon next to “Slack Motherfucker” to “Loser.” Adolescent interest may always be piqued by lyrical references to drugs and jerking off, the way a 5-year-old mainly laughs at the Calvin and Hobbes panels where Calvin is naked or calling Hobbes an “idiot.” But as beer-raising alt-rock goes, this is also exceptionally bleak, with the narrator’s couch-locked wank session transforming into a self-imposed prison where Armstrong semi-decipherably sings, per the liner notes, “You’re fucking breaking.” No motivation? For a high-school dropout hoping to succeed in music, that mental hell sounds like plenty of motivation.

The other singles mix Armstrong’s burgeoning songwriting chops with deceptively lighthearted takes on deeper topics. The opening line, “Do you have the time/To listen to me whine?” is endlessly quotable, but the self-mocking stoner paranoia of the irresistible “Basket Case” was inspired by Armstrong’s anxiety attacks. As late as 1992, Armstrong still had no fixed address, and “Welcome to Paradise” reaches back to those nights crashing at dodgy West Oakland warehouse spaces. It also brashly embodies punk’s trash-is-treasure aesthetic at its most American. But the closest Armstrong came to a pop standard, one that any guitarist who knows four power chords can play at a home and a more established star could likely have made an even bigger hit, was the midtempo “When I Come Around”—a smoldering devotion to the then-estranged lover who would become the mother of Armstrong’s two children. They’re still married.

Elsewhere, the bouncy, brief “Coming Clean” is from the perspective of a confused 17-year-old, uncovering secrets about manhood that his parents can’t fathom; Armstrong has forthrightly related the song to his own youthful questions about bisexuality. “Seventeen and coming clean for the first time/I finally figured out myself for the time,” he declares, in one particularly sublime bit of wordcraft. Teenage angst pays off well: Now he was bored and almost 22. Likewise, the rest of the album tracks often further showed what an accomplished songwriter Armstrong had become. “I declare I don’t care no more,” from breakneck slacker anthem “Burnout,” would be a classic first opener on any album, even though by now we know it contains an element of false bravado. The contrasts that made up the band’s identity also helped elevate Dookie above its shitty name, couching anti-social childishness in whip-smart melodic and lyrical turns. When, on the last proper track, the nuke-invoking “F.O.D.” (short for “fuck off and die”), Armstrong vents, “It’s real and it’s been fun/But was it all real fun,” it’s his Dookie-era way of saying he hopes you had the time of your life.   

Critics have been kind to Dookie, but not overwhelmingly so. It’s tempting to wonder how many of these lyrics could’ve been influenced by Robert Christgau’s two-word, two-star Village Voice review of Kerplunk!: “Beats masturbation.” Still, he gave Dookie an A-, and the album made it onto the Voice’s 1994 Pazz & Jop year-end critics’ poll at No. 12. But the backlash against Green Day in the pages of Maximumrocknroll was real and visceral. The June 1994 cover showed a man holding a gun in his mouth with the words, “Major labels: some of your friends are already this fucked,” with Yohannan sniffing inside, “I thought it was oh so touching that MTV decided to interrupt playing Green Day videos to overwhelm us with Nirvana videos on the day of Kobain’s [sic] death.” At Gilman, where major label acts were banned, graffiti on the wall proclaimed, “Billie Joe must die.” So it’s an album many people adore, but like loving the Beatles, proclaiming your adoration for it doesn’t necessarily win you any special recognition. Oh, you were in seventh grade and learned every word of a Green Day album? Duh.

Time has worked on Dookie in strange ways. Most blatantly, the post-grunge alt boom allowed an album like this to exist in the first place. Green Day were masters at pulling stoner humor out of malaise, and that is what the so-called alternative nation needed. One of Dookie’s great light-hearted touches, the image of Ernie from “Sesame Street” on the back cover, has been airbrushed away from later physical editions, ostensibly due to legal concerns. Among the many things streaming has ruined was the old ’90s trick of including hidden tracks on the album buried without notice at the end of the CD, so all digital releases treat Tré Cool’s novelty goof “All By Myself” as its own proper track. The unfortunate “Having a Blast,” about wanting to lash out with a suicide bombing, is understandably absent from most recent Green Day setlists.

Then again, so many of the fights that Dookie started have happily become moot. In 2015, Green Day played their first show at Gilman in 22 years. Whichever Maximumrocknroll readers were mad at Green Day for trying to make it out of their working-class suburban beginnings probably have more adult worries today (the zine, however, hasn’t forgotten). Though Green Day never quite embraced the term pop-punk and certainly didn’t invent it, they were pegged as its popularizers; you could hear their echoes several years ago in records like Wavves’ King of the Beach, but younger pop-punk torchbearers like Joyce Manor, Modern Baseball, or You Blew It! have been more likely to name-check the more tightly genre-fitting Blink-182. In interviews, Armstrong still claims the “punk” mantle, but over the years Green Day emerged as a classic arena-rock band, noted for their pyrotechnics.

These days, Armstrong knows how to fire up crowds by promising them they’ll have a good time. Fans are brought up on stage every night to take their instruments and play a song. A T-shirt cannon is somehow involved. Green Day have matured in all the ways the biggest bands usually mature, and that’s their right. Immature but crafty, punk but pop, American pretending to be English pretending to be, well, whatever, Dookie-era Green Day were, for a time, in a class alone. Call them pathetic, call them what you will. They were all by themselves, and everyone was looking.

#reviews-albums