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meenah-chan · 3 years

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Brothers and a Broken Bone

An OM! GN! MC fanfiction (OM! Brothers & Now-dateables + Luke)

2.42k words

Genre: flangst probably

Trigger Warning: blood, broken bone, violence (probably) Self depreciation? Still, read at your own discretion.

A chaotic family. A fight broke out and then... "Snap!"

They were on the way to the Demon Lord's Castle. Being like their usual selves, seven demons of varying personalities is chaotic.

"I'll definitely kill you Mammon if you're not able to get my platinum Seraphim figurine back!"

"Stop fussin' around already! It's just a figurine—"

"Just a figurine?! That's the last limited edition platinum Seraphim figurine released during the final episode of Seraphim of the End! There are only 5 of it ever produced in the whole three realms!" ...extremely chaotic.

"Shut it, you're so so damn loud."

"Loud?! Then let me rip that useless ears off you!" Whilst just a few blocks away from the castle, the purple demon suddenly transformed and spring towards his scummy brother.

"Stop it already. You're making a scene—" Before Satan could finish his sentence, the book he's holding was hit by Mammon's stray hand and flew, knocking Beelzebub's burger off his hands.

"My... Burger..." Losing concentration he lost grip of Belphegor, who is on his back.

On his fall, Belphegor squash Asmodeus to the ground, who then broke a nail.

"My book..."

"My beautiful nails..."

"Mngh... the hell..."

A burger splattered on the floor. A dented book coated with mayo and ketchup. A broken nail. An interrupted sleep.

... Extremely chaotic indeed.

Simultaneously the demon brothers transformed, ready to join the brawl.

"Stop this, you fools!" A riot is the last thing Lucifer wants a few blocks away from Diavolo's abode. Yet, his words falls on deaf ears, causing a set of horns and wings to sprout from him.

And the eldest joins the battle.

Then there's MC, a mere human. "Hey! No fighting guys!!" ...with no one who want to listen to.

"Don't hurt each other!!" Still nothing.

They move closer and took a deep breath, but this time, they're eager to use a bit of force through their pacts. "CUT IT—Aww." yet before they could, they fail miserably. Knocked by whoever the brother is, MC lost their balance.

They twist to hopefully resist their fall. Still, MC's footing failed and instead fall face first.

Snap!

As if a twig cracks, Leviathan and Mammon's attention was drawn to the unsettling sound. And as if on cue— Lucifer, Beelzebub, Satan and Belphegor's eyes followed.

A few feet away from them sits MC, blood profusely dripping off their nose.

MC rose on their feet but in a second, "Ahh..." They glanced on their lower right and lift their arm, as if nothing is bleeding.

Following the human's line of vision, blood suddenly drained from everyone's face. Well, except for the human themself.

"AHHHH!!" A shriek from Mammon and Asmodeus.

"Y/N!?" A shocked yell from Lucifer, Beelzebub and Satan.

"..." And a choked silence from Leviathan and Belphegor.

"...It broke." at the end of their arm limply dangles their forearm from the elbows. MC just looked at it as if nothing's out of place. They then glance to the stiff brothers a few feet away from them. "So, y'all cool down a bit?"

The brothers are anything but cooled down. They are so terrified they couldn't even move on their s spot.

And as if to trigger the demon brothers alot more, they swish their arm a little bit, the dangling forearm swinging like pendulum.

The first one to return to his composure is Lucifer, pulling out a handkerchief to stop the bleeding of Y/N's nose.

Satan followed, removing his blue jacket and sling their right arm around their neck. "I can't find anything hard to support your arm so please make do with this for now... damn, that fucking hardbound book's useless..." He mumbled the last phrase gritting his teeth.

"... Let's head to the Demon Lord's Castle first." Lucifer may looked he is composed outside but inside, he is a total mess. Everytime he loosens the pressure of his hand on their nose, blood will come dripping off with no sign of clotting at all. Just a bit more of ant stimuli and he will certainly be panicking like his brothers.

Noticing it, MC took the handkerchief from Lucifer and hold it in place themself.

Beel on the other hand towers over them and carry them.

"Does it hurt? Am I the one who hit you?" A crying Mammon hovers over them, hesitant of touching a single strand of his human.

"O-Of course it hurts, you idiot! We just broke MC's arms!" Leviathan is also a crying mess, standing beside Mammon.

"Not really. It is throbbing but numb." They reeled their arm once more, alerting everyone.

"DON'T DO THAT!!" They all yelled in sync.

"Hahahahahaha!! Looked at that priceless faces. Are you in a choir?"

"Hey, no fooling around! You're injuries are serious!" Asmodeus snaps.

"What if you worsen it?! You want to lose your arm, huh?!" Belphegor added.

"Why would I listen to any of you?" MC raised an eyebrow.

"Stop being childish and unreasonable. We're just thinking about you."

"Ohoh~? Did I heard it right? Childish and unreasonable? Aren't you describing yourselves awhile ago before injuring me with your bickering?" Condescending laugh. They received an insulting laugh from a mere human, yet no one utter a single word for defense.

Amidst the chaos, three forms appears opposite to their destination. "Hey guys, aren't you going to the Demon Lord's Castle too? What are you doing in the middle of the road?" As Simeon, Luke and Solomon approached the frozen brothers, MC jump off Beel's grasp and went to them.

"MC, what's with that jacket?" Luke held the hem of their shirt with a concerned look.

"It's nothing, just broke my arm. Come on, let's go to Diavolo and leave that matured and reasonable bunch." MC is smiling but the three could hear the spite in their voice.

"Wait—You WHAT?!" The eyes of the three almost bulged out of their skulls in surprise.

"Don't worry, I can't feel it. Let's go before the numbness disappears."

Through Solomon's magic, they manage to stop the bleeding and hold the arm from swinging. The four arrived at the the Demon Lord's Castle safely, leaving the brothers behind.

"MC, what happened?" As soon as he sees their state, Diavolo react fast and guide them to the nearest sofa.

"It was an accident. Is it possible to fix this?" Barbatos entered the room from a door different from what they used. He is carrying with him a first aid. Their guess is either— he left the room as he saw them or, he already predicted this will happen and came prepared. Either way, he didn't questioned them and instead act calm and efficiently as ever. Though when MC look closely, they can see an ever subtle crease between his brows.

Shortly after Barbatos appeared, the seven brothers arrived to the room, silently stayed in the corner.

"Solomon, I believe you have knowledge of healing spells, don't you?" Barbatos asked, wrapping the injured arm carefully yet fast.

"Yes, but it will take a few days to completely heal a torn ligament."

"I also have some speeding-up spells under my sleeves. I think combining it will heal MC's arm by daybreak." After Barbatos patch them up, Luke approach MC, with Simeon a step behind him.

"Are you o–okay? Does it hurt?" Teary-eyed he hold their knee, looking into their eyes.

With their uninjured hand they caress Luke's cheek, wiping the tears off his eyes. "It doesn't hurt at all. I will be alright in no time. A sweet little angel is blessing me after all."

"That's right Luke. Solomon and Barbatos are also forming a spell to return MC's arm to normal."

"Now, listen everyone." Diavolo stood in the middle of the room, calling everyone's attention. "I believe MC and the brothers have something to discuss in private. While Barbatos and Solomon are constructing a spell in the next room, I hope Simeon and Luke to come with me to give them privacy."

"I bet they are the one who caused MC's injuries! I don't want to leave MC alone with them!"

"It'll be okay Luke. They will be careful and won't do it the second time. Am I right, guys?" Simeon spoke calmly to soothe Luke but a hint of distaste still managed to reach the ears of the brothers. "Now come, let's leave them for a while." A reassuring smile from MC to Luke, and a thankful nod from Lucifer, to Diavolo and Simeon are passed before the others left the room.

"MC..." Approaching them, the brothers line up in row a meter away from them, Lucifer speaking in the middle of the line. "We would like to apologize for our... foolishness. Won't you forgive us? We're ready to do anything to earn you again."

"... I'm not really angry with you guys. Just upset and disappointed, with myself. Well, maybe I'm also sad because of you."

"MC..."

"Quarrels are normal with siblings. But it hurts to see you guys on each other's neck, ready to kill each other any moment. I mean, we're family. I should be able to stop you guys from doing something you'll definitely regret later. Yet here I am, a mere weak human who couldn't even do anything about it."

"It was like you guys calling me a family is nothing but a title. That without the pact, I am but a useless design that would crumble at a slight flick. I'm so weak and useless it's so upsetting."

"You're not weak nor useless!!" Mammon yelled.

"Yes I am. Look at this arm that snapped like a flimsy twig." MC slightly raised the arm with broken bone, which is starting to throb in pain. Pain that will definitely cause their tears anytime soon. Yet despite the pain still not surfacing completely, a greater pain within their chest caused tears to fall anyways.

"Look at me MC," Lucifer knelt in front of them, wiping the tears away from their eyes, "You, by any means, are not a weak person."

"Staying by our side after everything that happened, shows that you're a strong person." Satan strokes their head, smiling.

"That's because I really love you all. Because I want to be with you."

"We love you too, MC." Asmodeus also knelt beside Lucifer, taking their hand to his lips for a kiss.

"You're the most precious person to us, MC. We don't want you sad so please smile."

"Y–You know you're the Henry of my life! I vow I won't cause you pain. No–I'll protect you from all the sufferings in this world the best that I can!" Standing behind Lucifer, Leviathan fist-pumped.

"You're the best cuddle partner for me. Get well soon so we can take a nap without any problems." hugged MC from behind, burrying his face on the crook of their neck.

Mammon had enough. "Let go, you pricks! No touching to my human! What if you worsen their injury, huh?!" He especially tried peeling the fifth and seventh born from their intimate touch with MC.

"You're just jealous you couldn't hug them."

"Or kiss their hand." Asmodeus planted another peck onto their palm.

"N–No, of c–course not!" Mammon blushed profusedly while he held his hands over Asmodeus to stop him the third time.

"Pfft—Hahahahahahaha!" Being able to lift the pain off themself and hearing the brothers cheer them up, MC laughed with light heart, also lifting the veil of sadness and guilt from the brothers' chests.

The room was filled with smiles and laugh, fortifying the bonds of the big family they have.

"I'm sorry for interrupting everyone,"

"GWAAAHHHH!!" Leviathan and Mammon screamed in surprise as Barbatos appeared in the room with neither warning nor sound. Not only the purple and whitehead was taken aback. Everyone went stiff for a second except MC who is facing the door directly and saw Barbatos enter.

"The spell is done in the other room. If you may allow me, I would like to take MC."

On the doorway stood Solomon, holding back his laughter from the scene, engraving the comical shocked faces of everyone to the back of his mind.

"You could've knocked before entering you know..." Satan sighed.

"Forgive me for my rudeness, but I would like to bring them as soon a possible." Barbatos slightly bowed with his usual formal smile.

"... I see. Please do." Lucifer held his temple for a second before rising on his feet and giving way to the butler. If he knew, the butler definitely did it intentionally as a payback.

"If you'll excuse me." Barbatos took MC's other hand and in a snap, sling it to his nape, carrying MC in his arms like a princess.

"Oi! Let go! I'll carry them myself!" Mammon yelled at Barbatos' action. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"Yeah, you might drop MC from being too flustered." Asmodeus agreed, squealing at the thrilling sight before him.

"Beel, you carry MC." Belphegor nudged his twin. "Okay, I will."

"No, I don't think that's possible." Diavolo entered the room, interrupting any more attempt of the demon brothers of taking MC. Simeon is with him, while Luke made a beeline to his baking teacher and MC.

"Now that you settled everything with MC, we will now discuss your punishment for the incident."

"...What?" Belphegor and Satan raised an eyebrow from the Crown Prince's statement.

"Yes. Punishment. I entrusted MC in your care thinking you can protect them. Instead you caused them pain. I'll be lying if I said I'm not disappointed."

Although Lucifer thought of the possibility of punishment but to hear the word disappointed from Diavolo's lips, directed at him, his loyal prospect hits him hard.

"...Yes. I understand, Diavolo."

The stunned faces of the brothers, including Lucifer pulled the last string of composure within Solomon, freeing the dam of his loud laughter. Simeon also chuckled with him.

"Okay, let's start. Barbatos, Solomon, proceed to the other room to tend MC's injuries. Simeon will also help with the discussion."

"As you wish, Young Master." "Okay." Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon replied simultaneously.

"Will do. How about you, Luke?"

"I'll go with MC."

"W–Wait! Can't we just settle this without any punishment? MC did say they're fine already. Right, MC?" Mammon held Barbatos halfway to the exit.

"As much as I want that, I can't really oppose Diavolo's decision. And you did dig what you sow, so... Condolence, I guess?"

"You heard her." Diavolo added.

"B–But, BUT—"

"MAMMOOOON..."

"EEK—!"

And thus, the trial begins.

I dunno why I wrote this seriously 😂🤣 I just thought I want to write a comedy fanfic with all the characters but I just noticed my plot is a bit dark to make this a comedy at all. So I made it a fluffy angst instead sksksksk 😆😆✌️

Also posting A Smear of Blood soon after.

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2460nodone · 3 years

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Breaks

Title: Breaks Category: Plays/Musicals » Les Misérables Pairing: Enjolras/Eponine Author: AliceInSomewhereland Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Drama/Romance Published: 05-24-13, Updated: 05-24-13 Chapters: 1, Words: 3,788 Originally posted: fanfiction.net

Summary: When Eponine trips over Enjolras and breaks her hand at a party, he's the only one who can take her to the hospital. But suddenly it becomes less about her hand and about so, so much more. e/é (fic war prompt on tumblr)

Original author’s note: Ok, here's yet another for the e/é fic war! This time, the prompt (from tumblr user stargazingandsunshine) is: "A very drunk Eponine accidentally trips over Enjolras, and she breaks her hand. He has to take her to the hospital. Bonus points if Eponine is a flirty drunk (not that she wouldn't be anyway, but... you know)."

Chapter 1/1

Enjolras isn't quite sure how he ended up here.

No, actually, he is sure. Courfeyrac and Grantaire.

Somehow those two morons always talk him into going out with them and the rest of the Amis, and for some reason, always against his better judgment, he gives them the benefit of the doubt and agrees to go along. Tonight is no different.

The party – yet another graduation party (they graduated from college three weeks ago, for God's sake!) – was at Bahorel's apartment, and it was loud, smoky, boozy, and just about everything that wasn't Enjolras.

So he went out on the balcony, where the breeze was cool and the air clean and the noise confined to normal nighttime sounds rather than the bad DJ skills of Jehan (he was playing "My Heart Will Go On" when Enjolras exited, and that was the last straw for many of the recent graduates).

He was surprised to find Courfeyrac out there with that girl, the one who was in love with Marius Pontmercy. She shadowed him – around campus, at parties, at bars, she was everyone. To his credit, Pontmercy seemed to genuinely like the girl, but he was too thickheaded to see her feelings for him.

Enjolras had no time for nonsense like relationships. He was headed to law school in the fall, and was going to make a difference with his life. Women didn't fit in to that.

But as he stepped outside into the cool night air, he realized he had interrupted Courfeyrac and what's-her-name. They were making out, of course.

Enjolras couldn't help but roll his eyes. Courfeyrac was a manwhore, and as far as he knew, this girl was a tease of a drunk. And given that Marius and his blonde girlfriend Cosette were inside canoodling on the couch, it was not surprising to find what's-her-bucket sucking face with someone kind of random.

According to Courfeyrac, they hooked up semi-regularly. But this was the first time Enjolras had seen it; usually, when she was with their friends, she was either following Marius like a lost puppy or "brochilling" with Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Grantaire (at least, that was the word Courfeyrac gave it).

When the couple realized that they were no longer alone, Courfeyrac pulled away, grunting and wiping his mouth, glaring at Enjolras, who simply shrugged in return.

Then Courfeyrac actually high-fived what's-her-bucket and left. Enjolras rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe that these were his friends.

She turned to him. He could smell the liquor emanating from her person.

"Enjolras, right?" she asked, flashing a winning smile and flicking her dark hair off her face. He had never officially met her before (hence why he did not know her name), and had actually never been this close to her. She was much prettier than he had previously noticed, with a round face, olivey skin, and dark brown eyes. Her hair was thick and fell in easy waves around her shoulders; it was mussed in the back where Courfeyrac's hand had been anchored.

"Yeah," he said, uncertain of how to tell a woman he didn't know but had spent ample time around that he had never learned her name.

"I'm Eponine," she announced. He wondered if she had realized he didn't know her.

"Nice to officially meet you," he said formally, wishing that she would just go inside and leave him out here in peace.

"Not your thing?" she asked, jerking her head towards the party.

Enjolras shook his head. "Not really."

Eponine stepped closer. He noticed that, despite her sober manner, she tripped over her own feet a bit.

"It helps to be drunk," she offered.

He just looked at her.

"Ah, but that's not really your thing either, is it?"

Enjolras wasn't sure whether she was simply making an observation or teasing him, so he remained silent. Instead of answering, he busied himself with sitting on the floor, against the wall. Courfeyrac had moved all the chairs from the little balcony inside for the night.

Eponine sighed exaggeratedly, moving to sit next to him. It displeased him; he didn't want her company. She would most likely chatter drunkenly next to him for the remainder of the party, avoiding Marius and Cosette (though he was certain she would force him to talk about the couple for hours) and all the other people she could be making out with.

Then he wondered if she would try making out with him. The thought made him scowl. Women….

Eponine stumbled on her way over to him, and he belatedly wondered if he should get up and help her. But it was too late, because she went too far and tripped on his leg and–

She fell to the ground with a thud and an alarming, sickening crack.

"Shit, Eponine, are you okay?" he asked, reaching for her shoulders to help her up.

"Son of a fucking bitch, oh mother fucker that hurt!" she cried as he sat her up.

Enjolras caught sight of her wrist and hand, swollen and looking a bit… off. Eponine followed his gaze, and the impressive stream of cursing began again.

"Let me see," he muttered, reaching out for her. But when he gently touched her arm, she cried out in pain and alarm and wrenched away from him.

Sighing – this is not how he wanted his night to go – he ordered, "Wait here."

Eponine just nodded, hissing through her teeth in pain.

Enjolras went inside, looking for Courfeyrac. But when he found his friend, he was too busy vomiting into a trashcan. Grantaire and Bahorel were both too drunk to do anything, and the rest of his friends were either making out with random people, too drunk, or missing in action. Marius he didn't even bother; the boy made no effort for anyone else when Cosette was around.

He returned to the balcony, opening his mouth to speak, but stopped when Eponine turned away from him, sniffing. "Hey, you okay?" he asked her awkwardly.

Her good hand went up to her face, wiping her eyes. "Yeah, sorry, just a little painful is all," she replied, turning back and giving him a watery smile.

Jesus, now he not only had to deal with a drunk, injured girl, but he had to deal with a drunk, injured, crying girl, he thought. Just his luck.

Still Enjolras, ever the gentleman, offered her his hand. She took it with her good one, and he easily pulled her to her feet. "Let's get you to the hospital," he murmured, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

He held onto her arm as he escorted her to his car – which, when they reached it, Eponine announced she loved (it was a vintage red Mustang. He explained that he had saved his money for it for years, and had fixed it up himself. She replied that she loved a man who knew his way around a car, and that car oil on a man was extremely sexy, and a surprisingly good lubricant. He hoped the dark hid his blush).

When she was buckled into the passenger side, and he settled in and driving and trying to keep her from messing with his radio settings (though she seemed impressed with the classic rock station he had blasting), Eponine fixed him with a disconcerting stare.

"I never noticed how cute you were before," she informed him bluntly.

Enjolras flushed. "Oh… thanks."

"Yeah, I get why your friends call you 'Marble Man," she continued with a grin that was a little too mischievous for his liking, especially considering the very real possibility of a broken hand or wrist. "You know, with that chiseled jaw of yours and those text-book good looks." Eponine glanced at him sideways before sliding her good hand towards him. "Unless there's something else that's marble that might've earned you that nickname," she said, walking her fingers up his leg towards his crotch.

Enjolras jumped at her touch and did his best to squirm away from her. When did this car get so small? And how did he get stuck with the job of driving the drunk girl to the hospital? It took him a moment to realize that she was laughing at him.

"You're cute when you're flustered," she informed him.

He had no response. Nor did he respond very much to any of the other things she chattered about on their way to the hospital – it was a fairly short drive, thank god – other than to try and remove himself from her grip when she flirted with him. It didn't take him long to realize that she was teasing him so much because she was getting such a rise out of him, but he couldn't help it. He didn't have any experience with girls, didn't want any girls – especially not silly, drunk ones like her.

Enjolras was walking Eponine into the emergency room, her injured hand cradled against her torso, when she stopped short, just before the doors.

"Are you going to be sick?" he asked, already worn out from her antics.

She just shook her head, slowly shifting her eyes to meet his. She looked wary. "I just don't like hospitals," she said quietly. It was the first time all night, perhaps ever, that he had not seen her drunk or being loud and disruptive and trying to get attention. He wondered if it was because Marius wasn't here.

Something in her face, however, indicated that it was not just Marius' lack of presence that had her mood shifting. It almost looked like fear.

Enjolras walked up to her, gently grasping her shoulders. She looked up at him. "The sooner we go in, the sooner we get out, right?" he asked, not unkindly. He suddenly felt a little sorry for her, and was curious about the memories that had a girl that had always seemed so boisterous and fearless suddenly so small and timid.

Eponine nodded slowly, staring into his eyes as if she would find some sort of strength there.

He put his hand on her back, giving her a very gentle push through the door, and following her in.

"Your eyes are very blue," she told him. It was clear that she was trying to get back to where she was in the car, but her voice had lost its flirtatious edge.

Enjolras waited for her as the nurses took her back to take her vitals. It took only a few minutes, and she joined him in the waiting room almost immediately, still trying not to trip over her feet.

"I hate it when they know I'm drunk," she grumbled.

He wondered what that meant.

"Did they say how long we'll have to wait?" he asked, trying to stave off his curiosity about her experience with hospitals.

Eponine shrugged. "A few hours, anyway. They have to wait for an available doctor, then I have to get x-rays, then probably a cast. Damnit I'm stupid. Look, I appreciate you bringing me, but you don't have to stay. I'll be here all night, and I hardly know you. There's no reason for you to spend your night in the ER with a stranger. Go home, I'll figure out a way home later," she urged.

Enjolras liked the sound of going home, of crawling into his bed and passing out. But his conscience could not let him leave this girl here alone – not when she was drunk, in pain, lacking transportation and company, and obviously a little freaked out. Plus, he was suddenly a little curious about who she really was, apart from her infatuation with Marius, and he was eager to learn more.

"No, no, I'm not going to leave you here alone. Besides, this is like the last hurrah of college, right? My college experience wouldn't be complete without a night spent in the ER."

Eponine gave him a rather large, grateful smile. "Thank you," she whispered, taking his hand in her good one and squeezing it. She laid her head on his shoulder then, and was promptly asleep, her hand still clasped in his.

Enjolras had had the foresight to bring his backpack – which had been in his car during the party – into the ER, and as she dropped off surprisingly quickly into unconsciousness (where he hoped she would sleep off some of her drunkenness), he found himself digging around inside it to find his book (it was his third read of The Brothers Karamazov. He would never get tired of it). All the while, he kept his hold on her hand.

She woke up about eighty pages later, however long that was.

Enjolras felt her stirring against him, and realized that he was still holding her hand. He promptly tried to drop it, but she was clasping him as she came to with a groan.

"Good book," Eponine rasped.

"You've read it?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course, no book has ever taken me on such an emotional journey or made me question my faith the way that one has," she replied, sitting up with a whimper and rolling her neck. "God you have a bony shoulder!"

"So I've been told." Enjolras was incredibly impressed with her. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Any less drunk?"

"Ugh, yes, now I'm hungover. And the booze was good to keep the pain from my hand away, but now that hurts like a bitch too," she responded miserably.

Enjolras realized their hands were still clasped, so he squeezed hers supportively.

They had been reading along together after Eponine woke up. She still would not let go of his hand.

"You read slowly," he remarked teasingly, grinning over at her. The more he learned about her, the more he liked her. She wasn't the obnoxious drunk girl he had always perceived her to be; she was smart, sharp-witted, funny, and extremely well-read. He had entirely too much fun distracting her from her hangover and the pain in her hand by debating different authors and books. Then they had settled into sharing his book.

Eponine shrugged. "I like to really soak it all up, you know? Each word and each sentence. Writing is so beautiful, and authors spend so much time and put so much of their souls into their work. I feel like I'm doing them a disservice if I don't take my time and let what they're saying really settle in."

"You sound like a writer," he joked.

Eponine flashed that beautiful smile at him. "I am a writer – or at least, I want to be one. Someday."

"Really? What do you want to write?"

Eponine was quiet for a moment, mulling over his question. "Happiness," she finally said, her voice seeming a little far away as she stared off into space. "And people," she added, shifting her gaze to meet his. "I want to write about girls who find their way out of their miserable lives and find happiness, about boys who overcome their obstacles and live the life they've always dreamed of."

"Those sound like good books," Enjolras appraised.

She just shrugged, looking off into whatever yesterday her eyes had previously been fixed on. "I used to believe that you couldn't adequately write about something without experiencing it. But I don't believe it anymore. Writers are observers. I don't have to have a happy life to understand what one is and to write well about it. I can be miserable and write about happiness very easily. And I'll get to experience it along with my characters, so that's something, right?"

The depth of Eponine's statement actually kind of shocked him. "You just graduated college, Eponine," he reminded her softly. She looked at him with eyes that were heavy and, surprisingly, a little teary. "What's not to be happy about?"

Eponine smiled patiently and squeezed his hand. "I'm happy to have graduated. It doesn't fix my problems, though. It doesn't fix my life or my past or my family. It doesn't even secure my future. So I'm happy, yes. But it's just a fleeting happiness, not a life changing kind." Her smile was noticeably sadder now.

Enjolras didn't know what to say. She was so much more than he had judged her to be, and he found himself suddenly wanting to find a way to make her happy. He was actually about to tell her as much when the nurse called her name.

Eponine stood with a groan, and he opened his hand to let go, but she pulled him along. "Come on," she murmured, waiting impatiently as he marked his page and threw the book into his bag.

"Eponine Jondrette?" the nurse at the ER door asked.

Eponine nodded. "This is my boyfriend," she said, utterly shocking Enjolras. "I'm bringing him back with me."

The nurse hardly gave him a second glance before leading them back to a curtained-off empty bed. He helped Eponine settle on it – she was awkward with only one working hand – before lowering himself into the empty chair next to her bed.

He waited patiently as the nurse asked Eponine some information – feeling very uncomfortable when they briefly discussed her period (though Eponine didn't seem the least bit distressed) – and then left.

"Enjolras," Eponine said, the humored edge back in her voice, "Your cheeks are red. Is discussing my period a little too much for you?" she teased.

She waited a moment or two, gleefully listening to him stutter, before sobering. "Sorry to drag you back here and call you my boyfriend and everything. I just – I just hate hospitals and didn't want to be back here alone," she told him.

"Why?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

Eponine gave him an appraising look, but did not refuse him the information. "I spent a lot of time in the hospital growing up. For injuries of my own, then when I would bring my little sister and brother. My parents – well, they weren't the most loving…." She trailed off, turning her head away from him as her voice strained.

Enjolras was fairly certain that all this meant that she and her siblings were abused as children. The thought sickened him. No wonder she acted like she did, with one personality for around her friends and another for when she was alone in the darkness. His heart broke a little for her, though he could hardly show it. Somehow, he knew she wouldn't thank him for that.

So instead, he stood up and took her hand in his while she was still turned away. He slid partway onto the bed next to her – it was fairly narrow, and as she was sitting in the center, he had to keep one foot anchored on the ground – and smiled as she turned to look at him in surprise.

"I'm here," he reminded her.

Eponine gave him a timid smile, and actually turned away, hiding behind her curtain of hair.

The potentially very awkward moment (or very touching) was cut short by the return of the nurse, who took Eponine for an x-ray.

An hour later, they were leaving the hospital. It was close to five in the morning. Eponine had broken the part of her hand between her pinky finger and her wrist, and was now grumbling about being in a cast for the next six weeks. Although, the cast was bright purple, so Enjolras suspected that, at least for the time being, she was somewhat content.

When they were back in his car, he dug around in his glove compartment. Eponine looked at him questioningly until his hand found what he was looking for. She smiled as he pulled out a sharpie.

"Might I be the first to sign your cast, mademoiselle?" he asked, smirking at her.

Eponine nodded enthusiastically, smiling as well, and offered him her purple hand.

He gently held it, twisting her arm to where he wanted to sign, then signed his name (and drew a smiley face) right over the break. For some reason, he wanted her to know that he would be there as she healed. He wanted her to know that he would always be there, breaks or no. That suddenly, he wanted to help heal the breaks in her soul in a way that he couldn't heal the break in her hand.

Enjolras let go and she twisted her hand around to look at it, smiling widely.

"You signed over the break! Are you breaking up with me?" she punned, wiggling her eyebrows.

He snorted. "Well, your hand has to heal before you can have that purple monstrosity taken off. So technically, it's like I'll be there, stitching you back together."

Eponine's smile faded from a teasing one to a rather shy one. "That's harder than it looks," she whispered.

He wanted to remind her that her wrist was already set, that it would heal no matter what, but he knew they were no longer talking about her physical break. And he did not hate the thought of healing her other broken parts, because maybe he had some of his own that she could help with.

Eponine was not the girl he previously thought she was, and he suddenly wanted to be there for everything with her, to learn everything about him.

"Challenge accepted," he replied, grinning at her.

Eponine just smiled back and slid her hand back into his. Enjolras' heart quickened at this; he had come to like the warmth during their night in the ER together.

Eponine cleared her throat – it would seem she did not like sentimental moments (even better, as he hated them too) – and said, "Well now I only have one working hand. So let's take a shower, I'll need someone to wash my hair!"

Enjolras felt his face flush and he started the car, hurriedly driving away as though he could leave her teasing laughter behind at the hospital. She was cackling, completely aware that she had succeeded in flustering him, and stroking his hand with her thumb where it was clenched in hers.

#reposting old fics until i die #thanks to the slow death of ffnet lolol #enjonine #enjonine fanfic #enjonine fic #enjonine fanfiction #eponine x enjolras #enjolras x eponine #e/e #é/e

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psychologyofsex · 3 years

Text

The True Story of How I Became a Sex Educator and Researcher

Our professional biographies tend to serve as a “highlight reel”—they only say the great things we’ve accomplished and don’t reveal the struggles, challenges, and uncertainties that went into building a career. To lift back the curtain on this, the Society for Personality and Social Psychology (SPSP) recently asked a number of scholars to submit their official bios along with their “unofficial bios” that reveal an extremely different version of the story with more twists and turns.

You can read some of the examples here. Although I didn’t participate in it, I thought it would be fun to do something similar on the blog. So here goes—I’ll start with my official bio, followed by the real, behind-the-scenes story.

Official Bio of Dr. Justin J. Lehmiller

Dr. Justin Lehmiller received his Ph.D. in Social Psychology from Purdue University. He is a Research Fellow at The Kinsey Institute and author of the book Tell Me What You Want: The Science of Sexual Desire and How It Can Help You Improve Your Sex Life. Dr. Lehmiller is an award-winning educator, having been honored three times with the Certificate of Teaching Excellence from Harvard University, where he taught for several years. He is also a prolific researcher and scholar who has published more than 50 academic works to date, including a textbook titled The Psychology of Human Sexuality (now in its second edition) that is used in college classrooms around the world. Dr. Lehmiller's studies have appeared in all of the leading journals on human sexuality, including the Journal of Sex Research, Archives of Sexual Behavior, and The Journal of Sexual Medicine.

Dr. Lehmiller has run the popular blog Sex and Psychology since 2011. It receives millions of page views per year and is rated among the top sex blogs on the internet. In 2019, he launched the Sex and Psychology Podcast. It ranks among the top sexuality podcasts in several countries and has been named one of “11 sex podcasts that will help you get better in bed” by Men’s Health.

Dr. Lehmiller has been interviewed by numerous media outlets, including The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Boston Globe, CNN, The Atlantic, The Globe and Mail, and The Sunday Times. He has been named one of 5 "Sexperts" You Need to Follow on Twitter by Men's Health and one of the "modern-day masters of sex" by Nerve. Dr. Lehmiller has appeared on the Netflix series Sex, Explained, he has been on several episodes of the television program Taboo on the National Geographic Channel, and he has been a guest on Dr. Phil. Dr. Lehmiller has also appeared on numerous podcasts and radio shows, including the Savage Lovecast, the BBC’s Up All Night, and several NPR programs (1A, Radio Times, and Airtalk).

He is a popular freelance writer, penning columns and op-eds for major publications, including The Washington Post, Playboy, USA Today, VICE, Psychology Today, Men’s Health, Politico, and New York Magazine. He has also interviewed several prominent authors, journalists, and psychologists about their work for his blog and podcast, including Dr. Sanjay Gupta, Lisa Ling, Drs. John and Julie Gottman, and bestselling authors Christopher Ryan (Sex at Dawn) and Lisa Taddeo (Three Women).

Unofficial Bio of Dr. Justin J. Lehmiller

When Justin’s parents asked him what he wanted to study in college, he said “psychology.” He had taken a couple of psychology courses in high school that he found to be absolutely fascinating; however, his parents discouraged him from this because getting into a PhD program was tough and uncertain and, if that didn’t work out, they didn’t see much potential in a Bachelor’s degree in psychology. They encouraged him to pursue a career in occupational therapy (OT) instead because a family friend said “they needed more men in the field,” and also because his parents saw it as a path to job security with a pretty good paycheck.

He applied to a 5-year combined Bachelor’s/Master’s program in OT at Gannon University and was admitted. Incidentally, he was one of two men in the entire program. He spent a year and a half in it and made straight As in every course, including biochemistry and physics—but he wasn’t happy. He recognized the importance of OT to society, but it wasn’t his passion. After showing his parents that he was taking college seriously and earning good grades, they allowed him to switch his major to psychology.

Upon completing his Bachelor’s degree, he only applied to Master’s programs in psychology because he didn’t think he had the chops to get into a PhD program right away. The inferiority complex was strong in this one, so he didn’t even try. He applied and was accepted to Villanova University’s Master’s program in experimental psychology. He was not competitive enough of a candidate to receive an assistantship initially, although he eventually received one after another student dropped out.

He really wanted to study social psychology at Villanova, but there was only one social psychologist on staff at the time and several interested students. The only option for him was to beg one of the clinical psychologists to let him do a social psychology study for his Master’s thesis.

As he began looking for PhD programs to apply to, he met Dr. Chris Agnew at a meeting of the American Psychological Association. Chris was studying romantic relationships and Justin thought that sounded like a fun thing to spend his life doing. Plus, Chris was a super cool guy who seemed like a fantastic mentor. He applied and was admitted to Purdue’s social psychology program, although he was initially waitlisted (and rejected from all but one other program). Justin’s plan was to get his doctorate and become a college professor. Teaching and research sounded like things he could probably do.

Justin was assigned to teach a Health Psychology course at Purdue during his first year. He had never taught a class before and quickly realized that he was very uncomfortable with public speaking. The class was a disaster. Attendance dropped 60-70% within the first couple of weeks. He had no idea what he was doing and dreaded going to class each day—and he received poor evaluations in the end.

Around the same time, Justin submitted his first academic paper to a journal, it was promptly rejected and came with this review: “This manuscript is fatally flawed and of marginal utility, which is a shame because potentially interesting questions could have been asked given the topic and timing of the research. The tone of this manuscript represents the worst in scientific misconstrual, particularly because the claims are silly, wrong, or not warranted by the data.” Justin clearly sucked at both teaching and research—and if he couldn’t do those things well, how would he ever become a college professor?

He also started hearing horror stories from advanced students in his program who couldn’t find jobs and were sticking around for 6 or 7 years in the hope of eventually landing a job—any job. All of this led Justin to question what the hell he was doing with his life. Maybe he should have listened to his parents after all? Chris encouraged Justin to stick with it, though, as did his friends and mentors.

The next year, Justin got assigned to be a teaching assistant for a human sexuality course taught by Dr. Janice Kelly. It changed his life. He had to lead weekly discussion sections with students and answer their sex questions (a subject he knew next to nothing about, having attended Catholic schools most of his life). He read about sex extensively and instantly knew he had found what he really wanted to do with his career. He saw it as something fun and interesting—but also a way that he could make a real difference. He realized how little most people actually know about sex, and how education can correct so many harmful myths and misconceptions.

An opportunity to teach his own human sexuality class opened up the following year, and he took it. This time around, teaching was different—he was passionate about the subject and the students were, too. He had no problems with attendance. He ended up teaching this course six times before he graduated and eventually received a teaching award for it. He found that he loved being a sex educator.

He also found a solution to his public speaking anxiety: he started taking a beta-blocker (propranolol) on public speaking days, which removed physiological symptoms of anxiety. This allowed him to feel like himself in front of a crowd and, after just a few months, he no longer needed to take the medication—the anxiety had gone away completely.

He started conducting his own sex research, too, including a series of studies with Dr. Kelly on friends with benefits. His research skills improved and his studies started getting accepted instead of rejected.

He eventually landed a job at Colorado State University as an assistant professor, where he stayed for three years and continued his work as a sex educator and researcher. His partner couldn’t get a job in the area and had just taken a job in Boston, so Justin applied for every academic job within two hours of Boston. He was turned down for all of them. As a last-ditch effort, he applied for a teaching position at Harvard but had absolutely no confidence in it. He almost didn’t submit the application, but his partner encouraged him to do so. Justin had applied to Harvard’s PhD program previously and was rejected—if they didn’t want him as a student, why the heck would they want him as a teacher?

To his great surprise, he got the job at Harvard, where he stayed for three years. However, he had given up his tenure-track job in Colorado for a teaching position in Boston with no job security. So he decided to reinvent himself just in case things didn’t work out. In his spare time, he started a blog, wrote a human sexuality textbook, and became a freelance media writer. Communicating about sex science to the public became his hobby and was going to be his backup career in case the college professor thing didn’t work out.

Eventually, Justin’s partner wanted to move to Indianapolis for a job opportunity, so they left Boston. But Justin didn’t have a job at first and his backup plan wasn’t yet enough to be a full-time job. He knew the Kinsey Institute was nearby, so he drafted a letter to the director in the hope of establishing a connection, but he never sent it. He had a severe case of imposter syndrome and did not feel accomplished or experienced enough to have anything to do with what he saw as the premier hub for sex research in the world.

Much to his surprise, the associate director of the Institute reached out to him after he moved to Indiana to explore opportunities for working together. It was actually his hobby/backup plan that caught their eye—they were interested in working together to disseminate sex science to the public and were impressed with what he had done with his blog and social media.

Justin affiliated with Kinsey, but also jumped back on the tenure track with a job as the Director of the Social Psychology Program at Ball State University, which fortuitously opened up about 4 months after he moved to Indianapolis. After 3.5 years, he decided to leave full-time academics and do his own thing. His science communication hobby had managed to grow into a full-time job and it was no longer feasible to do that and academics. Plus, he found that the science communication work was really where his passion was. So, the backup plan officially became “the plan.”

Justin now spends every day finding new ways to help educate and inform the public about the science of sex. He’s still not sure how things ended up this way, but wouldn’t trade his current job for anything.

Want to learn more about Sex and Psychology? Click here for more from the blog or here to listen to the podcast. Follow Sex and Psychology on Facebook, Twitter (@JustinLehmiller), or Reddit to receive updates. You can also follow Dr. Lehmiller on YouTube and Instagram.

Image Source: 123RF

You Might Also Like:

How Do You Become a Sex Researcher?

So You Want To Be A Science Blogger? Here’s What You Need To Know

Sex Question Friday: What Is A Sexologist And How Do I Become One?

#sex education #sex research

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sinfulnature · 4 years

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hello, hello, hello ! i am late but i am here finally and i’m sorry it took me so long. below the cut you’ll find little write ups for each of my muses. wanted connections will be posted later but in the meantime please take this.

{ chris evans, 39, cis male, he/him, pansexual } welcome, henry king ! you make a living as a high profile director outside of the island ? cool. you’ve been here for two and a half weeks, right ? staying in room 402 ? you’re into ass to mouth & worship, but not gaping & extreme humiliation ? mr. conway will be sure to accommodate. i heard you were most excited for the beach, which makes sense. rumor has it you’re resourceful & critical, but i think people should get to know you for themselves.

introducing henry king, a high profile director who flies out annually to the resort to spend his summer months relaxing with his wife and boyfriend at his side.

he had a mostly stable childhood, one that was spent with two younger siblings in tow and a mother who was like a prototype of what a pinterest mom would be. his father spent a lot of time at work and it’s something that, while henry doesn’t begrudge him for it now, was frustrating as a child and not knowing why he wasn’t there.

the first major thing that henry remembered his father attending was his junior year of high school when he was the student director for a one act production of snapshots, an anthology of short plays. his father, also a director, took the time to give him notes about the things that could have been done to tighten up the show. the last four words were i’m proud of you. that was the moment that henry decided that he wanted to be a director.

fast forward to college and he goes to the goes to the university of southern california’s film school and instead of taking just the director classes, he takes the time to add a year and a half to his time in college and gets a screenwriting degree out of it.

his first production partner was his father, who promised henry that he would fund one movie, from top to bottom, with the help of a production company that was owned by a close friend. henry wrote and directed the thing himself and, though it didn’t garner major awards, it was screened at sxsw. that was enough.

let it be known that henry knows that his introduction into the world of filmmaking was super nepotistic. he understands that he had so many more advantages than any other person in his shoes, at his time, first starting to make movies when he did, and he was still terrified of failing.

with the above, it should also be known that henry goes out of his way to make sure he’s telling stories that, while he has not experienced them, he can find the right people to help him tell it and amplify voices that otherwise might not be heard. not out of guilt or a need to make up for his introduction to the business, but out of an understanding that his platform should be used to reach every single person and not alienate.

due to the stresses of his job and the level of scrutiny he’s constantly under, he’s well known to seem to abscond from the world as soon as his movies have come out for the summer. as a director of typically action packed, star studded films, he’s usually on his way to the resort by the second or third week of june.

though he makes so many of these action packed blockbusters, he also tries to make sure that he makes movies that appeal to his soul and finds himself in the process of developing a high fantasy series that’s in the same line as the authorless harry potter books and lord of the rings.

this is his second year at the resort and henry can see this honestly becoming an annual thing for himself, his wife, and his boyfriend to do. so many frustrations of his are squashed down throughout the year, not through anyone’s own fault, but just because there’s a lot of weight on one’s shoulders when billions of dollars sit on it every year. this is the place where his hedonistic tendencies shine through and he’s not particularly mad about it.

{ corinna kopf, 27, cis female, she/her, pansexual } hey there, alexandrea conway! you’re still the financial officer and you’ve been working here for two and a half years ? and you’re living in villa one. cool. you’re into body worship & creampies, but not extreme humiliation & scat play ? that’s what i thought. when you’re not working, you’re at her villa, right ? well, makes sense. people say you’re even tempered & prying, but i think they should get to know you for themselves.

introducing alexandrea katherine conway née douglas, the wife of oliver conway and chief financial officer at the resort. they’ve been married for about two years.

she had a relatively happy childhood and comes from a line of claimants to a scottish duchy of hamilton. she’s the youngest of six children and does technically hold the title of lady but she’s never done anything with it and it’s more a funny story that she tells at parties than it is a serious thing she buys into because she always thought it was a family joke.

prior to coming to the resort, drea graduated from the wharton school of business double major in business and marketing. post graduation she spent a fair amount of time as a prominent social media influencer. her multi million follower platform has translated into some business for the resort in the form of some of their most consistent guests.

at the time of marrying her husband, he offered for the resort to be something they shared in ownership and it sprung some little goblin in her head to deny his offer. she wanted to earn it and not marry into it.

the joke in that, of course, is that when most people look at drea they see incredibly soft curves, the bright blonde hair, the fact that the most articles of clothing she owns are just bathing suits, swim cover ups, and the occasionally very beautifully form fitting dress, the word bimbo appears in their mind on repeat. other words come to mind, too, but that’s the one that drea finds comes up most often.

if we’re being really honest, in the depths of her soul, there’s something that drea finds funny about it. there is a gift in being underestimated and who cared what their perceptions were ? her happiness with her husband and job did not rely on anyone but herself.

she has incredibly open sexual preferences but with a body like hers she favors worship and the kinds of things that don’t leave bruises unless they are loves bites. drea is a switch and is happy to lead or follow, though goddess remains either way, if you’re interested in having her.

{ inbar lavi, 33, cis female, she/her, lesbian } welcome, elodie bram ! you make a living as an international fashion designer outside of the island ? cool. you’ve been here for two weeks, right ? staying in villa two ? you’re into face sitting & rimming, but not food play & blood play ? mr. conway will be sure to accommodate. i heard you were most excited for the beach, which makes sense. rumor has it you’re empathetic & domineering, but i think people should get to know you for themselves. { dottie, 22, est, she/her }

introducing elodie odeya bram, an international fashion designer who makes an annual pilgrimage to the island as part of her process of designing her next year’s summer line. she had a relatively

elodie has always strived to make sure that her brand is inclusive to all sizes and genders. another facet of her brand is that her clothes are considered kosher as they are fully made from plant or animal fibers but not both. her interest in design first came in high school when she was helping to craft costumes for a play and things spiraled from there.

she realized that it was her passion, she attended the parsons school for design, and graduated with an apprentice ship under another designer who had long since been an inspiration for her own work.

elodie’s first collection to make waves happened a few years ago, when she was thirty and her mentor had agreed to take six pieces and let a capsule collection of elodie’s creation as part of their slot in paris’ fashion week. her luck in this mentorship was not beyond her and her good fortune has been at the forefront of her mind for years. seldom is there a night where she does not thank her lucky stars for all the things that have happened and continue to happen.

her mentor, in opening so many doors, also opened the door to the resort and has brought her into the light of one of her favorite places of inspiration. as part of her stay in the villas, she does frequently sketch her own designs and occasionally, when she brings back women to spend time with her, she’ll dress some of them up in her newest designs to see how they’ll functionally work.

she’s quite likely to pull together a collection of women she wants to spend time with and there’s almost always some kind of sexual activity happening in her villa. whether fellow guests or employees of the villa, elodie’s indiscriminate in any girl she flirts with and wants to make a move on and we stan her for it.

{ madelyn cline, 23, cis female, she/her, pansexual } hey there, penny rourke ! you’re still a lifeguard and you’ve been working here for two weeks ? and you’re living in room 202. cool. you’re into rimming & exhibitionism, but not fisting & scat ? that’s what i thought. when you’re not working, you’re at the spa, right ? well, makes sense. people say you’re insightful & fickle, but i think they should get to know you for themselves. { dottie, 22, est, she/her }

introducing penelope jean “penny” rourke, a sweet natured girl with a petty streak who grew up in a small town in oregon and honestly only considers going back when the weather in the new york makes her forget about how bad the weather in oregon is.

she grew up in a lovely home with a big family, her mother owning her own small business and her father a detective at the local precinct. solidly middle class, there was very little that penny craved or needed that she did not get. she took on a maternal role in her home, a natural adoption as the oldest of seven children, and she had a hand in their upbringing. while others may have seen that as a burden, it was something that penny enjoyed with her whole heart.

when she went off to college, she applied to all of the ivy leagues and got a significant scholarship to columbia, which is where she met archibald hughes, son of a virginia senator and guy who she said, “you can’t sway my attention from my studies” to on their first day of meeting. she moved in with him in an off campus apartment their junior year of school. he was her greatest hype man and while they’d been having serious talks about marriage and their future.

her relationship with archie ended rather abruptly when his paranoia hit an all time high at the behest of his father. insidious rumors, according to penny, accusations of things she’d promised archie long before that she would never do. her devotion to him was near unbreakable and archie had found the one straw that broke her back and everything came crumbling down: he put his trust in someone else.

recently single, in need of a fresh start and a warm place to go for the summer, and on her summer break from law school, penny has been ready to engage in her first ever hoe phase and has already started it with some success. her ex has recently shown up on the property, though, and that’s made some of her more recent encounters awkward, to say the least, but she’s making it work.

{ tommy martinez, 26, cis male, he/him, pansexual } welcome, jamie flores! you make a living as a famous musician / drummer for the raptors outside of the island ? cool. you’ve been here for one week, right ? staying in room 401 ? you’re into threesomes & body writing, but not bathroom play & scat play ? mr. conway will be sure to accommodate. i heard you were most excited for the docks, which makes sense. rumor has it you’re charming & nosy, but i think people should get to know you for themselves.

introducing james sebastian “jamie” ibarra flores, known professionally as jamie flores. he makes a living as a drummer for the raptors, a band that has achieved critical success and have just wrapped up their first tour and the release of their first album. it was his idea to come to key passion in the first place and it honestly super tracks.

he’s been with the raptors for about three years and prior to joining with them, he’d heard about the resort and promised himself when he had enough to comfortably afford to go after setting his parents up with making sure that their mortgage was paid for and it wouldn’t be the literally most financially irresponsible decision he’s ever made when there were other things and people to prioritize.

prior to coming to the island, though, did he drop like $3k on a girl’s amazon wishlist because he’s simpin’ real hard ? yes. can he afford to do it ? Yes.

not particularly religious and verging on the edge of anarchist, jamie uses his platform to promote a lot of social issues and advocate for the reformation of most systems in the united states. he will not shut up when he talks about politics and one of his most used photos on his camera roll is a picture of his degree in political science from ucla. he’ll come at you with facts and an army of stans.

though he’s typically a relaxed kind of person he’s under the belief that he’s Totally Chill and this is Not At All True. he constantly wants to know 103% of the drama without being directly involved but he’ll do it from his couch and creeping through stan twitter on a burner account so if he accidentally likes something, it doesn’t get back to the band.

he loves ,,, reading fan fiction and reader imagines about himself.

sexually very open and just wants to have a good time while coming off the success of his tour with his bandmates.

#key intro #⟨ ‹ drea conway ⋅ crowned with sunlight，she is a queen here ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ elodie bram ⋅ do not force innocence，it will only give way to chaos ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ henry king ⋅ how human，drunk on the idea of love ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ jamie flores ⋅ angel made devil，put no stock in smoke and mirrors ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ penny rourke ⋅ a heart in a too small cage still beats ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩

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chaoskirin2 · 4 years

Note

As a long time Queen fan, is there anything you know about John Deacon that most fans are unaware of or forgotten? Any misconceptions? There is a lot about him but I hear all sorts of rumors like the stripper story.

I wish I could answer this with actual information. It would be great if I had something to bring to the fandom. Cool facts. Amusing anecdotes. But I don’t.

What I can say is this:

You can sense a lot about a person by how they present themselves. I think on some level, everyone has an empathic connection with the people they admire. Sometimes we find kindred spirits or people we look up to. We always want to say “My fave would never!” but the truth is, the people we look up to are human, too. They have their flaws and vices just like everyone else does.

Because people aren’t just black and white. We’re not all separated into “hero” and “villain.” There’s no alignment chart that encompasses whole populations. Sometimes bad people do good things. And sometimes good people do bad things. We should always look at the whole, and see any individual as a complete, balanced person.

We can identify and praise the good, but we can also examine and denounce the bad.

It’s important to not turn a blind eye to the bad things. But I think we also have a responsibility, before we attack, demean, or cast someone out, to verify that those things about them are true. The internet brings us into a world where published accusations have no filter, reach masses, and spread like wildfire. Before rumors can be contained and lies extinguished, too many people get absorbed into a groupthink mentality and lock themselves in an echo chamber where reality doesn’t shine.

I looked into the story of John and the adult club with an open mind. I knew I might find that it was all true in the end, and that would have been disappointing. But the important thing is that I didn’t trust the writings of an infamous, sensationalist tabloid and did the necessary work to uncover its veracity. I didn’t want to pry into John Deacon’s private life, but I think as his fans, we owe it to him not to spread false information.

And it wasn’t an easy process. In my original conversations with Sophisticats, I was told they wouldn’t talk to me unless I was seeking an audition. In fact, I didn’t hear back on the answers to my questions until months later, long after I published the original debunking. (I’ll post that under a read more below.)

In the end, I think Deacon has given us an indescribable part of himself that can’t be quantified or be given a price tag. And we owe him his privacy. We also owe him the courtesy to not seek out scandal just because he is a quiet, private man.

My original debunking of the Sophisticats Bullshit:

After carefulconsideration, I've decided to fact-check the story about John Deacon's forayinto strip clubs, titled "Queen's Boring Bassist," published in theDaily Mail on January 30, 2005.

First, looking at theDaily Mail's track record, it is considered to be an unreliable, far-right(conservative) newspaper. According to readers on Quora, it "has zerocredibility" and is "sensationalist nonsense." User GraemeShimmin states that he uses the Daily Mail as a reverse fact-check: "if the Daily Mail says something is true thenI assume it is untrue."According to Media Bias/Fact Check (mediabiasfactcheck.com/daily-mail/) thepaper has a "poor track record with fact-checkers.) The Wikipedia articleabout the Daily Mail states that it is unreliable and biased, and has also beencriticized for instances of copyright violation.

It has also come underfire in the past for its powerful bias. In the 1930s, the Daily Mail ranseveral articles praising Nazism and Fascism. Virgin Trains recently stoppedstocking the Daily Mail due to its strong-right stance as beinganti-immigration and anti-LGBT, among other things.

Most notably, severalcelebrities, including Diana Rigg, Elton John, and J. K. Rowling, have brought successfullawsuits against the Daily Mail for publishing false information. Of particularinterest, and almost directly related to the subject matter of this fact-check,Melania Trump received a settlement based on allegations published in the DailyMail stating that she had been an "escort" in the 1990s.

Wikipedia will also notallow the Daily Mail to be used as a source.

The article itself ispoorly-written, is riddled with grammatical and punctuation errors, andcontains a general lack of impartiality. Any publication with integrity willhave a preference for neutral language which does not lead its readers to aparticular conclusion. It also contains heavy speculation pertaining toDeacon's decision to not tour or give interviews related to Queen.

It makes the medicallyinaccurate statement that Freddie Mercury "died of AIDS." (it isimpossible to die from AIDS. People who suffer the disease die due tocomplications from AIDS' attack on the immune system. In Mercury's case, hepassed away due to bronchopneumonia related to AIDS.)

Lastly, there are nocorroborating sources - no other articles in any publications mention that JohnDeacon ever visited a strip club or had an affair. Compare this to theextensive coverage of Brian May's marriage problems with his current wife,Anita Dobson. Needless to say, it is extremely important that multiple sourcesverify any information for it to be considered true. Of note, other far-rightsources that publish articles with no corroborating sources include BreitbartNews and the Westboro Baptist Church.

It was very interestingthat the Daily Mail has a quote by Opposition dancer Jenny Fewins, but it isnot attributed. I found the quote's source by accident, when looking forinformation about her and her credibility. The quote in the Daily Mail wasstolen from a book called Queen: TheEarly Years by Mark Hodkinson, with no credit given. This was a surprising,but welcome, confirmation of the sources that state that the Daily Mail hasbeen cited for copyright infringement. The part about Freddie Mercury arrivingat the wedding wearing a feather boa, as well as Roger Taylor's assessment ofDeacon's personality, are also from the same book, and also uncredited.

Both anecdotes are alsotruncated and incomplete, and spliced with false paraphrasing. For example,Roger Taylor did not say, "We were so over-the-top, we thought thatbecause he was quiet, he would fit in with us without too much upheaval."The correct quote from the original source is, "We thought he was great.We were all so used to each other, and so over the top. We thought that becausehe was quiet, he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a greatbass player, too -- and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was alsoa deciding factor."

I cannot find any sourcefor the quote by Robert Ahwai, nor much about him, other than the fact that itseems he is a real person. His quote in the article, if it is real, is alsospeculative, and from a person who only knew Deacon from college and had noassociation with him at the time of Freddie Mercury's death.

Unfortunately, whilesearching for information about whether or not Deacon's relationship withdancer Emma Shelley was, indeed, an affair (as well as whether or not sheexisted) I had to compare information about the affairs of Brian May and RogerTaylor. The reason behind this endeavor is to set the bar for how much information ispublished about the personal lives of Queen members. In my search, I foundseveral articles about May's affair with secretary Julie Glover, as well as ahandful of candid photographs. I also found a few articles, and one picture,about Roger Taylor's affair with Fay Lawrence. Despite celebrities' attempts tokeep extramarital affairs secret, there are always a few photographs thatappear, especially in the UK, where tabloid press is viciously always on thelookout for gossip. Paparazzi can earn quite a bit of money from an exclusivephoto.

When Simon Langer and hispartner, John McKeown, took over the Sophisticats strip club in 2001, heestablished several club rules, which directly conflict with information fromthe article. First, that clients in the strip club are not allowed to have anycontact whatsoever with the dancers. The article states that Shelley was a"lap dancer," which would, of course, require some pretty close contact.

Second, dancers are notpermitted to accept addresses or phone numbers from clients. Clients whoacquire personal information are not permitted back into the club, and thedancers are terminated.

I attempted to findcontact information for Mr. Langer or Mr. McKeown, however, I was unable tofind any current addresses or phone numbers. In hopes that an email would reachthe proper entities, I sent a message to the account set up for bookings andauditions, which was the only email address listed on the site.

I wished to ask about howstrictly the rules are enforced. I also found it odd that apparently Mr. Langerhad no problem with giving out client information to the Daily Mail,specifically stating that he knew Deacon visited the establishment. Even more shocking,he gave out information about his employees - someone named "Olga"with no last name given, as well as Emma Shelley. This seemed like a breach oftrust to me.

The strip club that Johnis said to have attended, Sophisticats, does indeed exist. As Sophisticats hasno contact information on their website, I messaged their page on Facebook,asking as to whether they employed any women named "Olga" or"Emma Shelley" circa 2000-2001. I also located an email address aftersome extensive searching, and sent the same question to that email, as well.

Unfortunately,Sophisticats declined comment to my inquiry. The only response I received askedwhether or not I planned on auditioning.

The strangest thing aboutJohn Deacon's alleged affair with Emma Shelley is that one particular photo isposed, as if taken with his permission. Considering the fact that multiplesources (including the Daily Mail, which published the photo) state that Deaconis secretive and reclusive, he would not pose for a photo with a mistress if hewished to keep the affair secret. This photo is also blurry, which is atechnique of photomanipulators who have severely edited a photo. Had Deaconactually posed for this photo, there would be no need for it to be blurry, asthe photographer wouldn't have had to rush to take it. Interestingly, it isalso impossible to tell whether or not the man in the photo is actually JohnDeacon.

The answer to this point might seem obvious - the photos were taken in secret.However, with the saturation and contrast in these photos (a point I willexplore in more detail shortly) they must have been taken with a flash. Whileit might have been possible to take such a photo with a high ISO, the entirepicture would have been extremely bright and grainy. If you check the photos,you'll see that there is absolutely no grain indicative of a high ISO, nor isthere enough blurriness to support a conclusion that any grain was removed. Thebrightness of the subject matter and the extreme black background can only meanthat a flash was used.

Which Deacon would havenoticed. As would have the dancer in the photos. The person who took the photoslikely would have had his camera confiscated, and would have been escorted outof the club - they would not have had the opportunity to take one photo, thenmove, and take a second photo.

And... This is as far as Igot with the research before I stopped working on it. As I was unable to getany further information (including from another club that may have beeninvolved - Stringfellows) I could not continue my research. Take from this whatyou will.Sorry about the incompleteness of this. It's all I was able to accomplish.

#queen #queen band #john deacon #that fucking article that won't fucking die #Anonymous

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theycallmebecca · 5 years

Photo

So I got this request for @trottae17 on my writing blog @theycallmebeccawrites but I don’t take requests there (just added that note there today), but I do take requests on this blog! So here is the drabble that I came up with for this one. BTWs, this is not part of the Prompt Me collection.

Let me preface the begging of this drabble with reminding you all that Chris has admitted to watching America’s Funniest Home Videos and finding it hilarious when kids get hurt in the videos. So that is what I was channeling.

Title: Oh Shit

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: some language

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

It happened in the snap of a finger. One second, you were walking down the steps leading from the back porch to the grassy part of the yard with a cool glass of lemonade in each hand and, the next, you were falling.

Hearing you schriek, Chris looked up from his book and saw you, his wife, stumble on the stairs and fall. Too far away to really do anything, he watched as both cups of lemonade flew threw the air as you fell to the ground with citrus rain falling on you. A bubble of laughter floated up from his gut and he barked out a laugh as he made his way towards you.

It wasn’t until he was closer that he realized you weren’t laughing with him as you laid on the grass at the foot of the stairs. Running to you, now, he knelt down at your side, ignoring the lemonade soaking into his shorts, as he saw that you had tears running down your face.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re really hurt.”

“No shit Sherlock,” you snapped.

“What hurts,” he demanded as he began his own search of your body.

“My ankle,” you managed to say as you cried. “The right -” His hands found your swollen ankle and you screamed as he touched it. “FUCK!”

“We’re going to the hospital,” he decided then seemed to remember that you were both now sticky from lemonade. “Do you want to clean up first or not bother.”

“Clean up first,” you replied as you gritted your teeth. “If it’s broken I don’t want to have a sticky foot for six weeks.”

Lifting you into his arms, Chris carried you into the house and deposited you on the edge of the bathtub to undress as he went to get pain reliever and something to drink. He returned quickly with both plus the step stool from the kitchen.

Once you were both naked, he got you into the shower with the handle of the step stool in front of you so you could hold onto it and keep your weight off your bad ankle. He washed your body and your hair as quickly as possible and then helped you sit down on the stool while he washed himself. Had you not been in extreme pain, you might have found the shower enjoyable.

Getting you dried off and dressed was a two person job that left you breathless and cranky as fuck. Chris let you take care of your hair as he quickly threw on dry clothes.

Forty minutes had passed since your fall by the time the two of you got into the car, Chris in the front seat and you stretched out in the backseat with a pillow between your back and the door and another under your ankle which was surrounded by ice packs in order to help the swelling.

During the twenty minute drive to the hospital, Chris called his doctor to ask him to give the hospital a heads up that you were coming. The last thing he wanted was for his appearance in the emergency room to create a stir and delay your getting help.

The doctor called back just as Chris was arriving at the hospital and gave him directions to pull into the ambulance parking and that the staff was waiting for the two of you.

In the addition to the nurses who helped you out of the car and into a wheelchair was a member of the hospitals valet parking team who took the keys from Chris so he could come into the emergency room with you instead of going to find parking. A nurse wheeled you into a private waiting room and told you that someone would be with you momentarily to check you in.

After you were checked in and given a hospital bracelet, you and Chris waited nearly an hour before a nurse wheeled you from the waiting room and into an exam room. Chris helped you onto the examination table and then a nurse took your vitals and asked about your injury before she left the room.

The nurse returned some twenty minutes later saying that the doctor wanted to run x-rays on your ankle. Chris helped you back into the wheelchair and then waited in the exam room while the nurse wheeled you to the x-ray room.

Back in the exam room, fifteen minutes later, the nurse gave you a higher strength pain reliever to help with the pain and then left, saying the doctor would be in soon.

Another thirty minutes passed before the doctor finally came into the room. She introduced herself to both you and Chris and then asked you questions about your injury. You winced in pain when she did a brief, visual exam of the swollen and bruised ankle.

Then she pulled up the x-rays on the computer screen so you and Chris could see them. “I studied these before I came in,” she said, arranging them so you could see your ankle from multiple angles. “There’s nothing that appears to be broken. And while that it good news, it’s also bad news because a sprain can sometimes take longer than a break to heal. With a broken bone, once we set it, it usually heals within six weeks or so. With a sprain as bad as this one, you will likely continue to experience issues with it even after it has ‘healed’.”

“See, even getting hurt you’re an overachiever,” Chris said, trying to lighten the mood, but only earned himself a glare from you.

“Let’s get you in an aircast,” the doctor said. “I want you to wear it most of the day for the next week. Your sprain will heal faster if you stay off it for the next couple days and keep it elevated. Ice will help with the swelling, too.”

You zoned out a bit as the doctor rattled off more instructions, but you knew Chris would remember everything and make sure you followed every instruction to a T.

Within thirty minutes of seeing the doctor, you had your ankle in an aircast and were discharged from the emergency room. A nurse wheeled you out to the car while Chris walked alongside with a pair of crutches in hand as well as a bag containing extra ice packs and a second aircast if the first got too nasty from sweat.

The valet was waiting with the car in the ambulance area when you got there and Chris helped you into the car. He tipped the valet and then got into the car himself. He made sure you were comfortable and then he drove you home.

Once home, he insisted on carrying you into the house and settled you on the chaise lounge part of the big sofa in family room. Then he went upstairs to get you a phone charger and then plugged your phone in within your reach. Then he told you that you weren’t to leave the couch without his help for the next two days. Not even to go to the bathroom.

While he waited to hear from the pharmacy on your prescription, he made lunch for you both and ate in the family room with you. When he got the text saying the prescription was ready for pick up, he helped you to the bathroom and then got you back to the couch before he left.

When he returned thirty minutes later, he had the prescription and a bag of goodies. In addition to your favorite candy, he’d wandered the overpriced aisle of the pharmacy and picked up a few puzzles and card games as well as your favorite drinks. Within thirty minutes of returning home, he had the family room setup as entertainment central. He had a cooler full of ice and your favorite drinks and he’d setup a card table in front of the couch so you could sit up and play games.

Too tired to do anything but lay on the couch for now, you thanked him and asked him to lay on the couch with you. He sat down next to you and you laid your head on his shoulder as he started one of your favorite movies, Pretty Woman. Eventually you fell asleep, exhausted and in a bit of pain, but feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #beccaheartschrisevans #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #becca writes drabbles #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #reader insert

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missorgana · 5 years

Text

pride and prejudice and robots

pairing: bruce banner/thor (marvel cinematic universe)

rating: general

word count: 2333

summary: Thor makes the (questionable) decision to follow his brother's advice, and for once, things actually don't go all that bad in the end. (aka a thorbruce high school + library au no one asked for cause i'm a mess)

(my birthday gift for my love Elijah / @nevillelongsbottom happy birthday perfect!! ilysm and hope you enjoy this mess 💕)

read on ao3

Today is the day. What day, you ask?

Well, you probably wouldn’t believe it when you looked at him, but Thor enjoys spending time at the campus library.

Sports is a large part of his life, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything, but even he needs some peace and quiet, after all.

Well, as peaceful as a library full of anxious and/or sweaty high school students can be.

When Thor first learned Shakespeare was on the curricular, a collective sigh could be heard through his class.

But Macbeth was far more thrilling than he could have ever imagined.

Once he finished it, he spent many free periods in the nooks and corners, in the trashed, weird smelling beanbags scattered throughout the library, devouring Romeo & Juliet.

That is, until he found a distraction.

Said distraction wears a nametag marked Bruce, and is a student from the science department who works in said library part time.

Thor first spotted him from his reading corner, during the mundane act of shelving books from a metal cart.

Why would this boy be a distraction from classical literature?

Because he’s cute.

The kind of cute that creates a weird knot in Thor’s stomach and makes him think of said boy all day, instead of homework.

Bruce wears glasses and odd sweaters that are slightly too big.

Bruce has a mop of curly, dark hair that jumps up and down as he wanders through the corridors.

Bruce taps his left foot and scrunches up his nose when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

Maybe watching a person this much without actually interacting is unhealthy.

That’s what Val told him.

“Quit being weird and just tell him he’s cute.” was her exact words.

“But what if-” Thor would start, until she interrupted him, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?"

“I could die!”

This earned him one of her signature eyerolls.

Okay, maybe he had been a little, tiny bit melodramatic. And he understood her point.

So today, he has decided, is the day.

He’s going to talk to Bruce.

Thor’s grabbed a copy of Sense & Sensibility to check out, cause he might as well kill two birds with one stone.

That’s what Loki says, anyway.

Jane Austen’s works has become his newest obsession, after discovering Pride & Prejudice.

Steve, Sam and his other friends from the football team didn’t really understand his endeavors in literature, but supported him nonetheless.

They’d probably be ecstatic if they knew Thor has a crush, cause they’ve tried, and failed, to set him up with someone for ages.

Guess romance isn’t really his strong side.

Bruce gives Thor a polite, indifferent smile - which he returns, nervously, of course - before lifting his brows in mild confusion.

“Jane Austen, huh?”

Thor feels like screaming, but he has to remain calm, goddamnit, say something and don’t stare at him like a weirdo!

“Uh, is uh. Yeah, uhm. Is something the matter?” he manages to stutter out.

If Val was here, she would slap him.

“Oh no! I mean, sorry.” Bruce replies, seemingly just as awkward as Thor is. “I was just surprised. You don’t really look the type to read romantic novels. No offense.”

Thor finds himself chuckling, a bit more relaxed, and shrugs, albeit a bit stiffly.

He bites his lip before saying, “None taken.”

Bruce doesn’t reply, but simply checks out the book and returns it to Thor.

“Thank you!”

That was too excited, calm down, it’s just a book.

Bruce smiles warmly, readjusts his glasses, “Uh, no worries. I mean, it’s my job, so.”

Thor nods awkwardly.

“Yeah. Of course. Uh, I’ll see you another time, then.”

He doesn’t give Bruce the opportunity to answer, but simply turns on his heel and walks out in embarrassment.

Val isn’t going to be happy with him.

But hey, that was a start. Right?

...

So, Thor may have asked the infamous Tony Stark, who he’s learned is Bruce’s best friend, about what literature said cute boy enjoys.

This idea came from his brother, and really, things usually don’t go well when Thor follows Loki’s advice.

But this doesn’t involve fire, breaking and entering, or nudity, as most of his other ideas do.

So it can’t be that bad, can it?

And Tony had been more than willing to lend Thor the information.

“My Brucie’s got an admirer! Thank fuck, finally!” he all but yelled in the middle of the hallway.

Thor’s used to Loki shenanigans, but it always surprises him to see traits similar to his in other people.

So today, Thor’s on a quest, searching for something called Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Huh.

Not exactly a catchy name in his opinion.

But he’s learned to never judge a book by it’s cover. Or title. Or resumé.

“You looking for something in particular?”

Thor jumps and tries to play it off casual, which just ends up making him look like an idiot, he imagines.

Bruce is looking at him with brown eyes and a semi-awkward stature.

To be honest, most of him comes off as awkward.

Which is in no way a bad thing. In fact, it just makes him even cuter in Thor’s mind.

When he expressed this to Loki, it was responded by an exaggerated “ugh” noise.

Most of what he says has this reaction, really. Typical Loki.

“Oh, uh Bruce!” Thor says, probably a tad too loud for a library, but Bruce doesn’t mention it. “Well, actually, yes! You know where I’ll find this title?”

Bruce’s mouth turns into a shy smile when he reads the paper slip.

“I sure do.” he replies, and releases something similar to a giggle.

God, he’s adorable. Thor’s mind needs to function normally.

Get yourself together!

“Come with me, it’s in the science fiction section.” Bruce says, already walking, with Thor in his heels, “It’s one of my favorites actually.”

“Really?” Thor exclaims dramatically, like he totally hadn’t snapped up this exact information from his close friend to get this awkward boy to notice him.

The things he does for love.

“Yeah” he replies, in a quiet voice, but his eyes are lighting up, as if he feels he should be hiding his excitement.

Why would you ever hide your passion?

“Anyways, here you go,” Bruce interrupts his brain blabber, “You wanna stamp that out right away?”

“Oh well! Now that you’re here, maybe you could help me with some other titles?” Thor hesitantly ends his sentence, and proceeds to rummage his pockets for the rest of his sticky notes.

Bruce simply nods and eyes him curiously.

“Ah!” He finally says, hands Bruce the notes and tries not to fidget with his hands too much.

Bruce’s smile grows in size, lifts an eyebrow, and responds, “Lucky for you, we’re in the right section now.”

He turns around and pulls out one book after the other.

It’s quite mesmerizing, the way this boy clearly knows the many shelves like the back of his hand.

Once he’s done, he hands them to Thor and pushes his glasses up a bit, scrunching his nose.

Oh god, can he get anymore adorable?

“You have a strong theme going on here,” Bruce says with a chuckle, “All classics.”

Thor tries to act casual.

He likes to think he’s succeeding.

“Well, uh, I’m trying to be more cultured, you know?” he finally says, mentally slapping himself two seconds later. Cultured?

Val will be extremely disappointed in him.

“But uh, uhm, I’d like to check these out then!” he continues, and quickly turns to the desk before Bruce can get another word in.

This is what he gets for taking Loki’s advice. He acts like an idiot around the boy and then flees instead of doing anything about his feelings. What Bruce must think about him, not good things surely.

Thor should've known better.

...

It’s been two weeks since the incident.

The incident being his last interaction with Bruce.

Thor’s decidedly avoiding going to the library now, his place of comfort, cause his anxiety about the shorter boy is getting the best of him.

Besides, he’s got plenty of reading to distract him now.

That’s a good thing. Right?

Loki doesn’t think so.

In fact, he’s just been all but thrown out (from his own room) by his younger brother.

“I can’t concentrate with you moping around! And reading those weird ass books!” he yells behind the slammed door.

Thor wonders how much concentration is needed to listen to that sad music Loki’s so fond of.

But he also makes his own costumes - cosplays?

They’re quite cool, Thor thinks, and he knows Loki appreciates his compliments on them, as much as he tries to hide it.

“But I need to study!” he answers his brother, “My laptop’s still-”

The door’s opened once more, the dark haired boy pushes the laptop into Thor’s arms, then says, “You can study in the library. And take that guy out, what’s his name, Brian?”

“Bruce,” Thor mumbles as an answer, “But he doesn’t-"

“Don’t you dare.” Loki says, giving him a cold glare and shutting the door in his face. “How would you know?! You can’t say he doesn’t like you when you haven’t tried!”

Thor wants to say more, but ultimately gives up with a sigh.

If there’s anything he’s learned from their childhood, it’s that Loki will never, ever let him win an argument.

And he does have a point, admittedly.

So ten minutes later, the blond boy finds himself at the library front desk.

It feels almost nostalgic.

After two minutes of slightly uncomfortable, silent waiting, Bruce emerges from an unmarked door behind said desk.

Ugh, he’s still cute, Thor decides. No change there.

The curly haired boy looks slightly startled by the sight of him, but relaxes once more.

“Thor.” he states, flashing a small smile. And boy, he can’t help but smile back fondly.

“Hey! Hi, I mean… You know my name?” Thor ends up saying.

He’s met with a faint chuckle.

“Yeah, I do. You showed me your library card, to check out, remember?”

Oh, right.

Thor can imagine Loki and Val giving him a double eye roll.

“Right!” he exclaims, shaking his head at himself, “That, uh, that was a stupid question.”

Bruce shakes his head, but switches the subject, “So, you enjoying the books you got last time? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He noticed he hasn’t been around?

Thor almost wants to blush. Get yourself together, you fool.

“Oh, yes! Science fiction might be my new thing.” he chuckles lamely, trying to be funny, “I’ve finished the book about androids, actually. It’s quite fascinating”

Bruce nods, “It really is. I’ve always liked that stuff a lot, robots and that.” he pauses. Lifts his shoulders, sinks them again, seems like he doesn’t know what to say, but tries anyway, “You know, the note you showed me? With all the books we found?”

Thor nods hesitantly. Should he flee now, like he always does? He can’t really say what’s coming.

“They’re all favorites of mine. And I, uh, told Tony - Tony Stark - my friend, about this, cause I thought it was funny you suddenly wanted to read all these. Cause it’s not your usual genre.” he pauses again, licks his lips.

Oh no.

“Bruce! I, uhm, I’m sorry.” Thor says.

Might as well admit to his stupidity before the short boy goes any further, save himself the embarrassment.

“Sorry?” Bruce asks, raising both eyebrows in confusion, “What are you sorry for?”

Thor takes in a breath, “I kind of, sort of, asked Tony for a list of your favorite books. To impress you.”

He frowns at himself. Bruce frowns.

“Why would you want to impress me?”

“I like you.”

A moment of silence.

“What?”

“You’re cool and smart and cute, fuck it, you’re adorable, and I’ve been too scared to talk to you, and Val’s told me for three months now to talk to you, and I thought this would start conversation, and now-”

“Thor!” Bruce exclaims, quickly realising his voice is far from the level appropriate for a library.

They receive a judgmental look from a group working at a nearby table. He collects himself, “Hold up, three months?” he asks, now almost a whisper, “You… like me. You’ve liked me for three months?”

Thor nods, not daring to look the brunette in the eyes.

Bruce smiles. A huge, wide smile. Looks like he’s going to burst out laughing.

It’s like looking at the sun, almost.

“I like you too.”

Thor can’t help but widen his eyes at that statement.

Bruce continues, “Thor likes me. One of the school’s top players likes me!”

“You like me?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, almost like a happy sigh, “I’ve liked you since, like, first semester.”

Thor can’t believe this.

He feels like pinching himself.

Surely, he’s going to wake up from this dream to his brother trying to shave all his hair off. Again.

“You have?”

“Yes, you idiot! I mean, I… I never thought you’d notice me, really.”

Thor shakes his head now.

This can’t be real, but it is.

And now he returns the bright, wide smile to the shorter boy, feeling like he might combust.

“Bruce,” he says, taking the boy’s hands in his, giving him the most serious look he can muster, “Will you go on a date with me?”

He nods to himself, looks to their hands, up to Bruce’s face once more, lets out a tiny “Please.”

“Of course. ‘Course I will, you know that.” the brunette replies.

Thor literally jumps and does a weird, excited dance, which earns them more looks from the other students, but he could honestly not care less.

“Great! Perfect! I- Yes! Thank you.”

Bruce chuckles, grabs a sticky note, and puts down what looks like a phone number.

Thor gladly takes it.

“I like ice cream.” he tells him, and Thor nods eagerly.

“And robots?” he guesses, feeling proud when Bruce nods and squeezes his hands.

“And robots.”

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

Text

BtT Light Novel Club, Chapter 16: Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Vol. 1!

Welcome to the first Light Novel Club discussion of 2020! Our discussion this month is on Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Vol. 1, in which a gamer dares to take on the “game” of real life. We have quite the discussion for this title coming up, so strap yourself in and join @jeskaiangel and I for a deep dive not just into the story, but also what even is a “game” in the first place!

-----

1. What are your general impressions of the novel?

Jeskai Angel: My impression of the novel = Video games + Proverbs / Ecclesiastes + My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong as I Expected + Self-help booklet + Optimism.

stardf29: I’ve got nothing to add; you did the math on that perfectly.

2. What are your thoughts on the characters in the novel?

Jeskai Angel: As I observed Tomozaki, I strongly had the sense that I was watching an alternative version of Hachiman Hikigaya from a parallel universe. His opening monologue sounds every bit as cynical, jaded, and bitter as something Hiki would say. But, crucially, Hiki is actively resistant to changing and finds a sense of moral superiority in not “conforming.” Hiki’s story kicks off because his teacher tries to help him change for better, but (at least as of vol. 1) he begrudges this meddling in his life and resists every step of the way. The two parallel universes diverge because when NO NAME / Aoi also offers Tomozaki the chance to change, he willingly (albeit skeptically) embraces the opportunity. That difference lends the whole story a far more hopeful, optimistic tone than My Youth Romantic Comedy.

I could spend more time contrasting the other characters of this LN and My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong as I Expected, but I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say that I think the girls of both stories bear further comparison.

Aoi is an interesting twist on the “perfect girl” trope. First, one doesn’t commonly see that sort of character AND have them be an unapologetic hardcore gamer (you sometimes see the “perfect girl who’s secretly an otaku” figure, but not one like Aoi who displays no sense of shame about her nerdy hobby). The other thing that subverts the “perfect girl” trope is that we learn quickly that Aoi wasn’t always “perfect” and in fact works incredibly hard to maintain her sterling image. She’s not just magically perfect thanks to inherent natural awesomeness. I feel like the rest of the cast is well written, but they don’t necessarily stand out in any exceptional way. Hopefully they’ll get more chances to shine in the future.

stardf29: That’s a good compare and contrast between Tomozaki and Hachiman. Hachiman’s constant cynicism and the commentary that comes from that is entertaining in its own way, but as a character, I really like how Tomozaki actually tries to make more of real life, and he gets some cool moments out of it, such as when he stands up for Nakamura when other girls start trash-talking him. Oh, and he’s a gamer, too, which I guess earns him some extra cool points for me.

I definitely appreciate Aoi having had to work hard to become the “perfect girl”, for the reason you mentioned. What I also like about that aspect is that it has shades of the “secret of the popular girl” trope where the guy finds out the popular girl’s secret and they grow closer because of it, which I often enjoy.

The other side characters definitely interested me a lot. While they might not have a lot of development yet at just one volume in, they do have very strong base characterizations with their own motivations and don’t feel like one-dimensional tropes; I’m definitely looking forward to what role they play in future volumes.

3. What do you think about the various gaming references and the use of video games in the story?

Jeskai Angel: Am I right in thinking that Atafami is a coded reference to the Super Smash Bros. series? Between the name and some of the characters mentioned, I had a distinct suspicion that the story was making a nod toward a very specific real-life game/series. The rest of the gaming references that I recall were all more general nods to various tropes and common features of video games, things common enough that they didn’t require knowledge of any particular game to understand. I enjoyed the references and use of gaming concepts as metaphors for real life.

stardf29: Yes, Atafami is pretty clearly a mock-up of Smash Bros. (“Smash Brothers -> Attack Families”), with their own versions of Fox (“Foxy”) and Sheik (“Found”; this one took a while to figure out, but it’s pretty clever; “Sheik” sounds like “Seek”, especially with Japanese pronunciation, so you have “Seek” -> “Found”).

The whole thing is pretty amusing since I have some vague familiarity with the competitive Smash scene (though I’m not a competitive Smash player myself), so a lot of the portrayals of the whole gaming aspect of the story are just that much more interesting to me.

4. What do you think about the various “life tips” in the story?

Jeskai Angel: Ooh, yes! I have mixed feelings about the life tips. On the one hand, I think there’s some real truth to Aoi’s advice. I sort of wish someone had given me some of this advice back when I was in high school (of course, I was such a trainwreck at that point in my life that Aoi’s coaching wouldn’t have been nearly enough to help me).

On the other hand, sometimes Aoi’s view feels a little too much like self-made man-pull yourself up by your own bootstraps-rugged individualism. It paints this overly positive picture of how if you just work hard, your life will be great and everything will work out well. That’s how I used to think life worked (thanks, American culture), but then life proved me wrong. I think Tomozaki has a legitimate point when he says that life doesn’t always have a right answer, that trying hard doesn’t guarantee the desired outcome, and that some people have massive, unearned advantages over others. No matter how long and how hard you try, there’s no promise that you’ll get what you want out of life. Maybe Aoi’s perspective doesn’t go quite that far, but it treads close at times.

This tension, where each of the two leads has some valid points, is where my reference to Proverbs and Ecclesiastes above fits in. The book of Proverbs paints an extremely optimistic view of life: if you live according to wisdom, things will be great. And to be clear, it’s not entirely wrong. But then Ecclesiastes comes along and says not so fast: no matter how wise / rich / strong / whatever you are, bad things may still befall you. If nothing else, we’re all gonna die no matter what we do. I suspect that Ecclesiastes sometimes presents an unduly cynical outlook on life, and that things aren’t necessarily quite as bad as you might think if you only read Ecclesiastes. But Ecclesiastes also has a valid point that life isn’t as easy as you might think if you only read Proverbs.

stardf29: You bring up something that one could make an entire dissertation on: the conflict between “do everything you can to improve things” and “there are some things in life we cannot control”. Ideally, these two ideas would work together: we take action where we can, while giving the things we cannot control up to God. Unfortunately, it’s all too easy to lean too much into one direction or the other. Tomozaki’s initial stance is too much into “there’s too much I cannot control”, and he includes stuff he does actually have control over to improve his life. Aoi, on the flip side, is perhaps trying to take control over too much. I think it’s pretty telling how, in the final confrontation, she’s ultimately not able to do anything when things take an unexpected turn until well after the fact.

Overall, while I liked a lot of Aoi’s tips, I do have one notable gripe. The whole thing about getting Tomozaki a girlfriend is a bit weird but ultimately, not too bad. However, when she tried to get him to ask Fuka out over their supposed shared interest in a particular author, despite Tomozaki lying about said interest, that definitely rubbed me the wrong way. It felt like Aoi was telling him to do whatever it takes to “win” the game, even if it means lying and deceiving others. I’m glad he ultimately chose not to listen to her and tell the truth to Fuka, and it seems like they still have the chance for some development later.

Jeskai Angel: I had forgotten about the whole “lie about liking this book to get a girlfriend” incident until you brought it up. Yeah, I really appreciated that Tomozaki averted tons of rom-com tropes by taking the first opportunity to correct the misunderstanding, instead of creating an extended series of painfully awkward situations where he struggles to maintain the lie. I wonder…Aoi generally comes across in a fairly favorable light, but does this case hint at a darker side to her character?

You also make a really interesting point in framing the climactic defense-of-Nakamura scene in terms of Aoi being unable to do anything when the situation gets out of hand. It does seem to speak to her limitations.

stardf29: “Darker side” perhaps, but to the extent that every realistic person has some sinful tendencies to her; in her case, it’s a willingness to fudge the truth in order to do what she wants to get done. (If I may say, she seems to be very much a Type 3 on the Enneagram.)

Tomozaki laughs at your “Foxy only” rule.

5. How much do you agree with the idea that “life is a game”?

Jeskai Angel: So, Tomozaki and Aoi both accept from the outset that life is a game. They don’t debate whether life is a game, but rather whether it’s a good one or a bad one. Consequently, the book skips over a crucial question: what exactly is a “game?” It’s hard to say for sure whether life is a game, or how good of a game it is, if we don’t know what we mean when we say “game.” Certainly I can see validity to a lot of the book’s metaphors. There really are times when there are substantive parallels between real life and video games. But does the fact that life and games are sometimes similar justify going all the way to the point of saying life actually is a game in any meaningful sense? I’m not so sure. My gut says no. However, I would offer the caveat that I can imagine it’s possible to come up with a coherent definition of “game” for which real life would qualify.

stardf29: Oh boy, the “what is a game” question is another one that you could make a whole research paper on.

Maybe a game like Smash Bros isn’t the best metaphor for life… but what about a game like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon? Those are games that break somewhat from the usual definition of a game, while still being classified as a game, and it’s a bit easier to see parallels with real life with those games.

But the key question here really does seem to be: What exactly is a “game”? Again, I could dive really deep into this topic, but for a basic definition, I like to think of games in four parts: player input, the “programming” which take those inputs and create results, the goals that players try to achieve, and the rules which are known to the players and help them make choices on their inputs. A game, therefore, is a situation where, given certain known rules, you decide on a goal or goals to achieve, and then make inputs and see what results the programming gives back; based on those results, you may either continue on with making inputs, or change one or more of your goals; you can even create a “game within a game” by setting a smaller goal and trying to achieve that goal first before returning back to your original goal.

For example, in, say, Super Mario Bros., your overarching goal is to reach the end and rescue the princess, which requires you to complete several sub-goals of completing the individual levels. Within the game, you are aware of the various rules of the game (move right, don’t touch enemies or fall into pits, collect power-ups for help) and then you start making your inputs to get Mario to the end.

Given this fairly wide-encompassing definition of a “game”, I think it’s possible to classify real life as a game. You have rules that are known and more or less govern what you can and cannot do (things like laws), and from there you decide on goals you want to accomplish, and then you make your “inputs” (a.k.a. personal choices) and then see what results come from the “programming” and adjust further goals/inputs accordingly. The only real difference here is that the “programming” is far more complex than what computers are (currently) limited to. That said, it’s not like there’s no “programming” whatsoever, since things like scientific laws exist. (The inputs of fellow humans may complicate things but lots of multiplayer games have that, so…)

In that sense, I can see how Aoi approaches the “game” of life. She tries to understand the rules as much as she cans, she has certain goals she wants to achieve, and she starts making “inputs” towards those goals. And as she starts accomplishing those goals, she gets the enjoyment of “winning” at the game (or at least that goal). If my approach to life differs from hers, it largely lies in having different goals from her to start with.

Now that I think about it, there is an important “fifth” part of a game: the positive feelings that come from “winning” the game, or rather, accomplishing goals within that game. It’s why we play games, after all. The exact nature of those “positive feelings” can vary depending on your goals, from the feeling of empowerment and domination after defeating a human opponent, to the sense of pride and accomplishment from getting 100% completion, to the satisfaction of the ending of a good story. And in real life, there’s definitely a good feeling from putting in effort, getting results, and fulfilling goals.

Jeskai Angel: I remembered this interesting column by game designer Mark Rosewater (https://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/making-magic/what-game-2018-06-04). He defines a game as “a thing with a goal (or goals), restrictions, agency, and a lack of real-world relevance.” Your definition and his agree about the importance of input / agency, rules / restrictions, and goals (whether invented by the player or established by the designer). But you differ regarding the lack of real-world relevance. MaRo holds that having the purpose of entertainment or education, as opposed to practical necessity, is a fundamental part of what distinguishes games from real life.

stardf29: That’s a great article overall, and if I combine “rules” and “mechanics” into “limitations” I would mostly agree with it… but I definitely disagree about games needing to be “separate” from real life. It feels like a meaningless distinction; if I want to make a game out of cleaning my apartment or something, I don’t see how the real-life application somehow makes it not a game.

Instead, I would replace that “lack of real-life relevancy” with that last element I mentioned: the explicit pursuit of the positive feelings that come from achieving the goals. The reason most people don’t, to use the example in the article, consider packing for a trip as a “game” is that they simply have no desire to experience the pleasure of figuring out how to optimize packing; they just want to get the job done. However, someone might decide that, yes, they’re going to figure out the optimal arrangement for their packing, and then, after getting everything into the optimal arrangement, relish in the rush of having solved the puzzle.

In a way, then, what makes something a “game” is, in part, mentally thinking of it as a game–that a game is whatever you want to be a game (as long as goals, restrictions, and agency are also in play). And this is likely what helped Aoi be so successful: she chose to view several parts of life as “games” where others just saw it as “just life”. And Tomozaki has now adapted that mindset too. Now, I do think there are times where it’s best not to think of real life as a “game”; the example of a pilot flying a real plane is probably one of those times. (Though if the threat of death makes something not a game, I guess the Aincrad part of Sword Art Online isn’t a game…) That said, there may very well be several times in real life when thinking of something as a game may be just what gives someone that motivational kick to get something done, so… perhaps, at the very least, it’s worth consideration.

Jeskai Angel: Hmm… It occurs to me that babies and children learn through play. It seems that God has hardwired us to learn about the world through play-type behavior. And if play is fundamental to us from the earliest stages of development, perhaps the idea of life as a whole being a game has more validity than I’m giving it credit for.

Final Thoughts

Jeskai Angel: In the opening monologue, Tomozaki says this:

“Since ancient times, tons of brilliant scientists have been conducting experiments to search for a Law of Everything that explains the rules of our world. They still haven’t found it. Since ancient times, tons of brilliant philosophers have been wrapping ideas up in logic trying to figure out the meaning of life—in other words, life’s concept.”

This is where I’d raise my hand and say that Christianity has an answer to this question. The “Law of Everything,” the basis of all the rules in our world, the source that connects everything else, is Jesus. That’s what John 1.1 is getting at when it describes Jesus as the Logos. All the rules are established and upheld by him. And of course life’s “concept” is to know and love God.

Jeskai Angel: On a couple of occasions, one character criticizes another (first Tomozaki to Nakamura, then Aoi to Tomozaki) for dismissing a pleasure they’d never experienced as boring or meaningless. This is really quite profound. It was super relatable when Aoi calls out Tomozaki on this, because I have done the same thing. I can easily come up with examples from my own life where, because I didn’t have opportunity to enjoy something, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t really all that great anyway, that I didn’t really want or need it, and so it was fine if I didn’t have it. At least in some of these cases, I’ve realized later that maybe that thing was more valuable than I’d been willing to admit while I was coping by lying to myself. The story was a good reminder about the need to be honest with ourselves.

stardf29: Yep, that’s the good ol’ sour grapes fable (the fox who can’t reach the grapes decides they must be sour). And yes, it’s best to be honest with yourself, or at the very least, don’t put down others who do have things/experiences you don’t have.

Jeskai Angel: Looking back, I realized it’s kind of cool the way the story building up Aoi to be so amazing actually serves to increase my respect for Tomozaki as a gamer. Here’s this girl who, much like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect in every way. Whether in beauty or academics or athleticism or popularity or whatever, she is unsurpassed thanks to her combination of talent and incredible hard work. And then you tell me that in one respect, she gets totally outclassed by someone else, despite putting forth the same hard work at Atafami as she did to reach the pinnacle in every other area of life. And it really starts to sink in just how insanely skilled Tomozaki must be to be able to capable of trouncing her as he does.

stardf29: Honestly, having seen how insane top-tier Smash Bros. play is, I’m more impressed with Aoi being able to even basically become the second-best player in Japan in the first place, especially with everything else she’s doing for real life as well. They do go a bit into how she does it (she purposely gets into disadvantageous situations to learn how to get out of them, sacrificing her immediate win-rate for long-term improvement), but even then, getting to the top ranks is no easy feat and it shows how dedicated she really is. And, of course, Tomozaki himself is impressive for being able to beat her regardless, though I guess since I’m familiar with top-tier Smash players, it’s pretty easy to picture how good he is (or at least as easy as looking up some YouTube videos).

=====

What do you think about Bottom-Tier Character Tomozaki, Vol. 1? What do you think counts as a “game”? Share your opinion in the comments!

As a reminder, on February 21st, we will be covering Vol. 3 of Infinite Dendrogram, so if you plan on joining us for that and haven’t finished it yet, get to reading!

#Light Novels #Bottom Tier Character Tomozaki #Jaku Chara Tomozaki kun #Christianity #BtT Light Novel Club #Articles #Author: stardf29 #Author: JeskaiAngel

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gwenbrightly · 5 years

Text

Elements

Oh look! My brain decided to create a random drabble about elemental powers instead of focusing on OMAC… Oops. I guess Misako's appearance will have to wait… All the headcanons and stories I've been reading lately that mention Lloyd's powers acting up when he gets emotional made the temptation to write this too great. So yeah. This one shot can probably be considered a part of Of Milk and Cookies, and takes place just after the chapter titled Awkward. I hope you enjoy!

Elemental powers are weird, Lloyd muses early one morning not too long after their visit to Darkley's Boarding School. He can control his now – sorta – and the others can do some pretty amazing stuff with theirs – like being able to lift a sports car with your pinkie. Or spark fire with a snap of your fingers (literally). Or charge your phone using only your own energy. Or meditate inside of a freezer for hours on end without getting cold (okay, maybe he hadn't been around for that). All those things are incredibly cool, and Lloyd's not complaining, because someday he'll be able to do all of that too, which is super exciting. He can't wait, really.

But sometimes... Sometimes having powers isn't exactly the best. He's been around this weird, dorky family of his long enough to notice that there are days where things get a little out of wack. Where Kai or Zane get emotional and the temperature around them suddenly changes to the extreme, or any number of other bizarre side effects. Just last week, Lloyd walked into their skimpy apartment only to feel his hair immediately begin defying gravity due to the sheer amount of electricity filling the air. Puns involving shocking had most definitely been made. Cole and Jay's latest argument (See: whether or not pineapple is an acceptable topping for pizza) had gotten a little... heated, and the master of lightning's powers had acted up as a result. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened, and the blonde is pretty sure it won't be the last. Still, he has to admit that it's a little (a lot) unnerving to deal with the aftermath of an elemental outburst... Especially... now that he's experienced his own for the first time... Okay, he'll admit it – that's the real reason he's up right now – not because he was craving poptarts. Which is what he plans to tell the others if they question it. Not that they're awake, so he's safe. For the time being, at least. Maybe he can get this glass cleaned up and replace the lightbulb before anyone finds out? If he's lucky. Lloyd slips over to the meager set of cupboards that they've installed in one corner. They have to be keeping some extra lightbulbs around here somewhere... Honestly, given what's happened during training, he really shouldn't be surprised that his latest nightmare ended with him blowing up their light source – it had been so vivid, and just… he'd woken up terrified. He hates feeling like that. He'd stared at the mess for quite some time, too shocked to do anything about it at first, but. Having all that power running through his veins was guaranteed to catch up with him eventually. He knows that, but it doesn't make attempting to quietly remove broken glass from the floor any less of a struggle. Carefully picking up the largest piece of what used to be a lightbulb, Lloyd shoves it in the garbage. Bit by bit, the debris begins to disappear. The green ninja has managed to dispose of most it by the time someone else wakes up (it's impressive that it took this long, to tell the truth). It's Nya, of course, trying hard to cover up the fact that she isn't a morning person (at all). The girl seems to have some sort of magical sensing abilities that activate whenever he's in trouble. She gives him a concerned look before wordlessly grabbing a fresh lightbulb from a shelf too high for him to reach. The samurai drags their one whole rickety stool over to the socket and screws it in with a large yawn. Then, Nya gives the floor a quick scan, looking for any remaining hazards that might exist. There are none.

"So. I earned some extra cash at the autobody shop yesterday. Wanna go get some donuts?" The girl asks her adoptive brother, eventually.

"Huh?" Lloyd stares at her, not fully processing the question. She shakes her head with a sigh. Clearly today's gonna be a rough one. He really could stand to get away from the apartment for awhile – to decompress and all that therapeutic stuff you're supposed to do when you're dealing with emotional triggers.

"Donuts, Lloyd. You know, those pastries police men are so obsessed with? I'm leaving in five with or without you." His mind may not immediately get what she's saying, but his stomach certainly does. Growl.

"That's a yes, then?" Nya says, smirking.

"Sure. Okay." He replies with a shrug, because donuts do sound awfully good, now that he thinks about it and. He's not gonna pass up the opportunity to eat something other than off brand cereal for breakfast. That would be completely out of character, no matter what the reason for doing so is. They slip out of the apartment, careful not to wake the others (though Cole's definitely going to be offended if he finds out about it later) and wander down the sidewalk. As it turns out, the nearest donut shop is less than a block away. The smell of freshly fried dough greets the pair as they push the door open. Mmm… It's only when she notices the distinct lack of customers inside that Nya realizes how early it is. A glance at her phone (which she probably should've checked before they left) tells her it's not even 5:30 yet. Oh well, if the place is open, it's not like they're intruding or anything. Lloyd perks up noticeably when she lets him pick out his own donut – a questionable decision, since he immediately chooses the one with as much frosting as humanly possible and a thick coating of rainbow sprinkles. It even has gummy worms on it. A part of her wants to scold him for being so unhealthy, but the grin on his face. She can't. So, she selects a donut of her own (powdered sugar with raspberry filling) and hands the drowsy cashier a bill. They find themselves a booth near the windows lining the front of the store and enjoy their breakfast in silence for a few minutes before Nya says anything to Lloyd.

"So. Nightmare?"

"Yup." He tells her in a small voice, playing absent mindedly with one of his gummy worms.

"I kinda figured." She comments wearily, "You gonna be okay?"

"Dunno. Hope so."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I-I…. Don't really remember much about the dream itself… Just… It was so freaky to wake up with the light going crazy… and then it exploded, and I've never had my powers go out of control on me like that and…" Nya wraps a comforting arm around the blonde's shoulders. He leans against her, regretting having been woken up so early, and perhaps still a little shaken by the events that transpired earlier.

"I'm sure it was pretty freaky… You know you can always wake on of us up if you need to, right?" Lloyd nods unconvincing. There are no tears, surprisingly, which Nya takes as a good sign.

"I know… And I was gonna. Eventually. But I wanted to take care of the glass first – so nobody stopped on it. Thanks for helping. With the lightbulb. Being short sucks sometimes."

"Course it does. But it's gonna suck even more someday when you finally stop being such a pipsqueak and end up taller than me." Asserts the samurai. He giggles weakly.

"You don't know that that's what's gonna happen… maybe you'll get lucky?"

"I guess you have a point there. But seriously, if you have any more issues with your powers, I'm here to help. And so are the others. I mean, Kai accidentally set his bunk on fire when he first got his true potential… Maybe you should talk to him about this – I'm sure he'd understand…" Kai is a pretty okay listener from what Lloyd's seen at this point. He probably wouldn't have convinced himself to revisit Darkley's without him.

"M'kay. I'll think about it." He decides through a mouthful of donut, "Not right now though? I kinda just wanna forget about the whole thing…"

"That's valid. This can be our little secret. Betcha the guys aren't even awake yet." The girl agrees, figuring he'll share more when he's ready. She's not gonna push him. This time.

"They're really missing out. This donut is delicious." Lloyd tells her, clearly done talking about powers, nightmares, or anything related. Life's really not so bad when you've got an awesome older sister to buy you junk good. Even if it is only because your elemental abilities went haywire in your sleep.

"Totally. But they don't need to know anything about that. You, on the other hand, will be taking a nap as soon as training is over for the day. And I don't meaning laying around reading comic books. Actually sleeping will be expected." Nya stated, giving him a pointed look.

"What? But that's not fair! I just got a new one!" Lloyd groans indignantly.

"And I'm sure you find plenty of time to read it eventually. However, you also need your rest, so that's gonna have to be a priority for now." Deep down, he knows she's right. He just doesn't plan on admitting it. So, he decides to focus on what's left of the mound of pastry, frosting, and sprinkles instead. He feels better now, anyway.

" So, that happened?" Lloyd says one day, several years down the road, as he stares at a soaking wet Kai. He's not even sure where that much water could possibly have come from.

"Uh... Oh my gosh, Kai, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..." Nya apologizes, attempting to use her abilities to draw the moisture away from her brother.

"I mean, we all knew it was gonna happen eventually. S'not that big of a deal. But you do owe me a new tube of hair gel..." He shrugs, not particularly concerned. The reason for their... Disagreement isn't important anymore. Things have been tense for everyone since the battle with Morro. He just wants her to be okay. She's not exactly the biggest fan of her elemental powers in the first place.

"Yeah. That's fair." She agrees after a second, looking sheepish.

"Happens to all of us." Lloyd reminds her, "Wanna go get some donuts?"

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #my fics #lloyd #nya #kai #elemental powers #side effects #stuff explodes #but donuts make things better

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mahkaria · 5 years

Text

Of novelists and stray dogs - CHAPTER 4

Inferno

In a dark alleyway, not too far away from the shopping district, a crowd had started to form. Most of them were men in their twenties. Dark tattoos covered their arms and their neck, as if they took pleasure in looking like stereotypical villains. They didn’t say anything.

Finally, a woman taller than the other arrived. A deep, unpleasant smirk almost cut her face in two and as she moved forward, her subordinates parted to let her pass.

No respect could be seen on their face. Only fear and regret. This woman : Katou Misao, but she was more often called The Puppeteer ; the leader of The Black Warriors .

“Boss, one of our men managed to find the list.”

“Well? Don’t make me wait and give it to me.” She ordered.

A small book was given to her. On it, the list of all the businesses under Port Mafia’s protection.

“Perfect.” She purred. “Hana, I believe you can take care of it?” She asked to one her lieutenants.

“Of course, boss.”

“Then get to it.”

The teenager took it. Who would have thought she would use her ability this way?

His whole body hurt. He could feel his muscles contract and relax at regular intervals as they pressured his bones.

Atsushi groaned.

The mornings after a transformation were never a pleasant experience. Never.

Good thing he had finally sent his most recent short story. He didn’t want to move even a finger away from his futon..

His phone rang.

A new groan from Atsushi.

He stood up as slowly as he could his whole body cursing him for this decision. He picked up.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun. How are you?”

“Good morning, Tanaka-san. I’m fine and you?”

“I wanted to talk about your new work.” He explained.

“It’s not good enough, is it ?”

“Of course it is. I told you not to worry about it. Just, my superior read it and wanted me to pass a message.”

It’s never good when a sentence starts like that.

“He finds your style extremely dynamic and thinks it would be better for you if you were to - how do I put it? - write about different themes.”

“What? But -”

“It would sell better and be more attractive to new readers, don’t you think?”

Atsushi didn’t know what to answer.

It was thanks to the said editor in chief he had been able to find this apartment. A friend of his had agreed to lend him the place as long as he kept working for them. He was a nice forty-nine years old who had greatly encouraged Atsushi. He owed him more than he could ever pay back.

If that’s what he wants I can’t go against him but -

“I’m sorry I -”

“Atsushi-kun, you do want to keep having a job, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then, you should do what I say. Stories about mythology and historical events are fine but they get boring with time. You won’t keep earning a lot if you only focus on this.”

“Yes but-”

“I’m your editor, don’t you trust me?” Tanaka asked.

“Of course I do !”

“Then do as I say. Write about more modern subjects. I know you’re a kid and can’t totally understand it but I’m only here to advise you. Listen to me or you could really regret it.”

“I see, thank you very much.”

“Glad we understand each other. I’ll wait for you next story then. I’m sure you’ll do great, it won’t be too hard for you to change, right?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Cool, have a nice day.”

“Good bye.” Atsushi stuttered.

A soft bip and the young boy was alone with his thoughts. All hopes of a peaceful morning had vanished with one conversation.

What does writing about more modern subject even mean? He wondered.

Until now, Kunikida, his grandmother and Sensei had always praised his writings. Did they only do it by mere politeness? No, they weren’t this kind of people. Kunikida was as blunt as an uppercut; a trait he shared with his caretaker.

Sensei firmly valued honesty and had never hesitated at criticizing Atsushi when it was needed. He wouldn’t lie.

He trusted them more than anyone but at the same time…

Maybe he should go to a bookshop see which were the best sellers?

He fell on his futon once again.

I’ll do it later.

As his eyes were about to close once again, another ringing disturbed him. From his door this time.

He didn’t expect anyone. It would either be publicity or one of his neighbours. They could wait. Atsushi threw his pillow over his head. Only a hurricane would prevent him from resting.

After a moment, no sound came.

One minute

Two minutes

Three minutes

They had probably left.

“At - su - shi - kun ~” A giggling voice whispered next to his ear.

A deep shriek shook the whole building.

“Wow, so energetic when you just woke up? I’m envious !”

“Da- Dazai-san?”

“Yo! Atsushi-kun ! How are you in this fine day?”

The said boy looked left and right. Then left and right once more. No, there was no mistake on his part. It was indeed still his apartment. So it only meant one thing.

“Dazai-san, please stop picking my lock !” He screamed.

“But you weren’t answering.”

“I could have been absent.” Atsushi protested.

“You only go out in the afternoon. In the morning, you just work.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s a secret!”

I haven’t seen him in three days and I already can’t deal with him anymore. Atsushi sighed.

“Ca- Can I help you?”

“Odasaku and I are going to explore the city.”

“Have fun, then.”

“Want to come with us?”

“My apologies but I really can’t come with you right now.”

“Do you have something to do?”

“No, but -”

“Then, there is no problem. Come on!”

A hand sneaked inside his warm bed covers. Its temperature could compare to an iceberg’s. Not something pleasant to come upon when you wanted to relax.

Before he could screech in outrage, he felt it pull him away from the comfort of his futon. Atsushi clawed at his futon in the hope to stay protected but in vain. For such a thin person, Dazai had more strength than it first appeared. Stubbornness too since no matter how hard Atsushi’s other foot kicked him, he refused to let go.

“Good fighting spirit but I won’t lose !” Dazai proclaimed.

And with one final push Atsushi’s face met the hard floor.

“Now, get ready, Atsushi-kun, for we are going on a great adventure !”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

Dazai’s smile had widened so much he could have passed for the Cheshire Cat. He patted Atsushi’s hair softly and with one more smile he went out of the room but added before :

“Get dressed, Atsushi-kun. Stimulating your mind from time to time is a good thing.”

Once fully clothed, he found Oda outside. The older man sent him a sorry smile as Dazai complained about how long he had taken to get ready.

“I’m sorry if it sounds rude but shouldn’t you be at work?” Atsushi wondered.

“He is working.” Dazai said while pointing at the cast around his arm. “Odasaku is my bodyguard for the day.”

Once again, he felt shivers run through his body. Few jobs necessitated to have this kind of protection.

Without wanting to, he had fallen into quite a troublesome situation.

“Now, gentlemen, let’s go.” Dazai cheerfully said.

“Are you sure it is safe to bring him here?” Odasaku whispered as they walked toward the shopping district.

“It will be fine, nothing should happen.”

His friend nodded as the worry in his eyes faded.

You shouldn’t trust me this much, Odasaku. I’ll end up disappointing you.

A hand caught his arm. His head rose up and met an intense stare from his friend.

“I know you’re planning something.” He said. “But I also know you’re not actively trying to hurt Nakajima. Don’t worry, Dazai.”

“I’m the epitome of calmness, Odasaku.”

Nakajima Atsushi was a strange kid, Dazai quickly realized (again).

As they travelled through the city, he would often stop and write in his notebook as he stared with wonder at whatever was in front of him. When he had looked over his shoulder, he had seen nothing but gibberish which didn’t make any sense.

It didn’t seem to faze Odasaku. When Atsushi had done it for the first time he had merely watched and hadn’t said anything as if it was perfectly normal.

Was it some weird habit of writers he couldn’t understand?

Another strange habit was how he had tried to escape when Odasaku had proposed to buy him a drink. Why would someone react so violently because of a bottle of green tea?

This, associated to what he had discovered at the orphanage told him enough about the kid than he needed. Only one last information and he would have enough datas.

As they entered a bookshop he saw Atsushi stiffen.

“Is there anything wrong, Nakajima?”

“No, not at all. Do you mind if I take a look around?”

“Of course not, we have time.”

Odasaku followed him. Protectiveness or curiosity about his favorite author? Good question.

Dazai looked at his best friend as he talked with the kid about literature. It had been a while since he had looked so happy.

Romance. Thriller. Pseudo Psychology.

Nothing which went well with his style or which really interested him. Great.

Atsushi forced himself to read the summary of the best seller of the week, a book titled : A mysterious Girl . He had read a few books of this particular writer. They always followed the same pattern which after a while destroyed the novelist’s style. Solid writing was important but remained superficial if the plot didn’t follow.

I’ll never be able to write something like that.

He liked thriller, even loved it sometimes but he didn’t want to write them. Romance by itself was often boring (apart from a few exceptions) and psychology, well…

At twelve years old, how was he supposed to give life advice? He didn’t know enough to really help this way.

“I didn’t know you liked this kind of story.” Oda commented behind him.

“They are not my cup of tea.” He admitted. “But it’s never too late to broaden your horizon, right?”

The uncertain look he got perfectly mirrored his own thoughts.

He didn’t like those books or even worse, he was indifferent toward them. Yet, Tanaka wanted him to write something like those?

“You don’t seem well.” Oda said.

“I feel-”

As he was about to keep talking, a smell interrupted him. It reminded him of a dying fire, when the last sparks of red faded away in the dark. A mix of smoke and burnt wood.

He turned around. Where did it come from?

A few meters away, a young woman was busy reading a poetry collection. Tears came down her face as she closed it and put it away.

For a moment, their eyes met. She -

“Nakajima?”

“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”

“That’s okay. Are you going to buy it?”

“Y- Yes, I am.”

They came out after this. Oda had bought a book from Robert Louis Stevenson. Atsushi wasn’t drooling over it. Not at all.

“I’ll lend it to you once I am done.” The older said.

“Thank you.”

Outside, an unexpected awaited them. Dazai kept jumping from right to left as a red haired young man kept trying to kick him.

“Will you remain still, you damn bastard?”

“Chuuya is getting slower. Must be old age.” Dazai singsonged as he avoided a nasty strike which would have robbed him from his front teeth.

“I’m going to show you “old age”, you fucking jerk.”

Passerbys watched them with a mix of amusement and displeasure as the two young men kept wreaking havoc in the street.

“Is Dazai-san okay?”

“Don’t worry, they’re always like that.”

It didn’t really make him feel better.

The newcomer jumped forward and barely missed Dazai. HIs fist met a wall. When he took it away : a hole as big as a football.

“He didn’t forget to hold back this time.” Oda commented.

That’s holding back?

“I said stop moving !”

“Oda-san, why is he so angry?”

“I don’t know. Probably because of something Dazai said.”

“You’re my dog ! You shouldn’t be trying to hit me every time.” The young executive whined.

“I’d rather die.” Another wall fell victim to his fury.

Some people had started to film the whole fight. Did they not see it wasn’t a joke?

Dazai burst into laughter.

Okay, he understood why no one was taking the situation seriously.

“They’re attracting a lot of attention.” Oda noticed.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not something Dazai would do without a plan.” He conceded.

Instinctively, his body moved toward Atsushi so the boy would be closer. If something was to happen, he would need protection.

After a moment, the two teenagers calmed down and came toward them. A deep flush of exasperation could still be seen on Chuuya’s face.

“Nakahara.” He saluted.

“Oda. Still dealing with the mackerel’s bullshit?”.

“Well, someone has to.” He said lightly.

No teasing could have sounded fonder. It was another proof of how much Dazai and Oda shared a strong bond. As Dazai’s fake hurt exploded, Chuuya and Oda exchanged a silent conversation. Atsushi would have been unable to interpret it.

That’s when the new boy noticed him. Scrutinizing azure eyes fixed him. If seeing him fight was terrifying, it was nothing in comparaison of having his whole attention.

“Who are you?”

“Na-Nakajima Atsushi. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Nakahara Chuuya. You took another charity case?” He grumbled to his partner.

You would have had to be deaf in order not to hear Dazai’s laughters.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Soon, you’ll regret your words and I’m waiting for this moment.”

“You make even less sense than usual. Congrats, I guess.”

However, discomfort and suspicion had appeared. Dazai often liked to provoc him without any reason. Seeing Chuuya worry about nothing had some kind of interest he could quite fathom. But, it seemed different right now.

Suddenly, his conversation with Prof Specs came back to his mind.

"for such a young kid to be a writer"

“Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

“You know I’ll never lie to you, Chuu-ya ~”

“I hate you so fucking damn much.”

The two last days, the two of them had had to deal with a rival gang. It would have been easy had they not put their hands on high level weapons. A dozen of their subordinates had been killed. Dazai got a broken arm and Chuuya a very strong need to hit the wall with his head.

He had collapsed and had been woken up by an annoying buzz from his phone. The text received was the following :

Hello, little hatrack ! How is the weather down there?

Have you faded out of existence yet? If you haven’t, go to this address [position] as soon as possible !!! You’ll see something interesting. No I’m not talking about poor quality hats. Get your mind out of the gutter. Something really interesting !!!

If you have indeed faded out of existence well… see you in hell! I’ll be allowed to annoy you for the rest of eternity. Can’t wait (ᗒᗨᗕ)(＾▽＾)(◕⍸ ◕✿)

In his exhaustion, Chuuya had written a very eloquent answer :

Fuck you. Seriously how can you be so fucking annoying?

Dazai, always the same, had replied :

(∩^o^)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Killing him would be too nice of a punishment. Chuuya had a ten pages long list of things he would do to him before achieving him.

Despite his foul mood, he had exited his room and went to the place indicated. They were partners but didn’t communicate more than needed. If Dazai had written to him, it was important.

Right now, as he stared at a too thin and scared kid, he wondered if he hadn’t done it just for this to happen. If he hadn’t woken up so early he would have never been so rough and Dazai knew it. The jerk.

Words refused to get out of his mouth.

“Chuuya looks like a fish.” Dazai snickered.

“I don’t want to hear that from you.”

Oda and Atsushi were still watching them. The older had a small almost invisible amused light in his eyes. Of course he would find the situation funny, he wasn’t friend with the bastard for nothing.

“Listen…” God, those scared purple eyes. Hello, guilt, nice to see you again. “Hum…”

“Wow, you’re terrible at it.” Dazai commented as Oda nodded.

“You, shut the trash hole you call a mouth !” Chuuya tsked.

“Rude. What is Atsushi-kun going to think?”

At this moment, Chuuya realized two things :

Firstly, he’d never be able to have a real conversation with the author if Dazai was still here.

Secondly, he had always been more focused on action rather than thoughts. He wouldn’t change today. Brawn instead of brain.

He put Atsushi on his shoulder and ran.

Mad cackles shook Dazai’s whole body. Oda waited for his friend to calm down and then asked:

“You knew this would happen?”

“Well, of course ! Chibi’s actions aren’t exactly hard to anticipate. When in a strenuous situation he’ll either attack or run away. Since Atsushi-kun was here he couldn’t allow himself to traumatize him even more since he respects him.”

“You wanted Nakahara to meet him.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s nice of you.”

“Why?”

“Well, thanks to you he met someone he admires.”

“Do I look like such a kind person?” He wondered aloud.

“You do, why?”

Warmth invaded his face but he managed to hide it.

Seriously Odasaku, don’t say this kind of thing…

“Because what just happened is only a part of my plan.”

Chuuya ran until they reached the central place. In its middle, a fountain stood surrounded by multi coloured flowers. It would have calming had he not been on someone he barely knew’s shoulder.

Why is it my life?

He was put down carefully which allowed him to have a better view of his kidnapper (?). His azure eyes didn’t look at him, his embarrassment obvious.

“Sorry for that.”

“T-That’s alright.”

“Stop looking as if I’m going to murder you. I just wanted to talk.” He ordered before sighing. “God, this stupid mackerel is right I’m terrible at this.” Then : “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.”

A moment of silence. This whole situation couldn’t have been more awkward. Chuuya had never lived worse and he had once gotten his hair dyed by Dazai. Having almost rainbow hair for two months had been a nightmare. No enemy took you seriously when you looked like a cartoon character.

“So, you’re Tsukishiro Ren?” He asked after a moment of hesitation.

Now, that wasn’t a question he expected.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t think you would be a kid.”

“I know it is disappointing.”

“That’s not what I said. It’s just surprising, I guess. The subjects of your books made me think you were older.”

Atsushi thought about the scars adorning his back and his ribs. Decorations which wouldn’t leave him until his death.

“Experience and age aren’t as related as people like to think.”

“I won’t argue with you on that one. Can I buy you something to drink? It’ll be an apology for dragging you here.”

“There is no need to.”

“ ‘Should have known you’d say this. You look like the kind of person who won’t accept anything because they think they’ll be a burden. That’s stupid. Follow me.”

Nakahara Chuuya, Atsushi understood quickly, was like fire. He could both warm and burn but what he did he always did it with a passion no one could relate to.

As he talked to the young writer about his stories, about small details even he had started to forget, he felt joy blossoming inside of him.

Maybe I’m worth being read.

After a moment, the feared awaited question came :

“What are you currently working on?”

“Nothing for the moment. I’m still looking for ideas.”

“No inspiration?”

“My editor wants me to change what I write about.” Atsushi confessed.

“But why? Doesn’t it sell well? I checked how many of your short stories collection you sold. It’s good enough, right ?”

“For me it is, but he doesn’t seem satisfied.”

Chuuya stared at him for a moment. He bore the same bewildered expression that Atsushi had carried sooner. But more than this, pain could be read on his face. He didn’t want this to happen.

Considering his line of work, I didn’t expect him to be as affected as he is by this.

Yet, Atsushi couldn’t deny a part of him liked this turn of event. Sensei, Kunikida and his grandmother then Oda and Chuuya.

Having people who cared was nice.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll manage somehow.”

“No way, I’m not letting you deal with it by yourselves. Don’t worry, I’ll-”

Before Chuuya could finish, a deep unpleasant smell came to his attention. Something was burning.

“Nakahara-san, we should-”

He didn’t manage to finish his warning.

The world burst into flames.

Red and oranges tongues were eating away at one of the closest building. From what remained of the front windows he could see it used to be an antiquity shop. Now, it only served as combustible for a fire which had no intention to stop.

“So interesting things are finally starting to happen.” Someone commented.

“Did you follow us?” Chuuya snarled.

“As if it was complicated. You can hardly be called discrete, chibi.” Dazai mocked.

“Is that what you wanted to see?” Oda asked as he pointed to the fire who was starting to spread to other shops.

“The boss wanted me to investigate. Some of our “associates” have found themselves in troublesome position. Most of them live around this street.”

“They should still be around. Let’s find them.”

“Is the hatrack giving orders now? How bold for someone who isn’t an executive.”

“Want me to punch you again?”

“O please, you didn’t even manage to-”

“They are going to get away if you keep fighting.” Oda commented.

“Shit, you’re right. Atsushi, you should stay here. Or maybe go- Wait, what are you doing?”

In front of them, a little girl stood. She looked lost and kept walking backward and forward.

“Are you alright?” Atsushi asked her softly. Her face was covered in tears.

“Daddy is still inside.”

Insi- O no !

It had been a few minutes since everything had started. Soon, the building would collapse, his foundations too damaged to maintain it. If he wanted to do something it had to be now.

I can’t do it. It’s impossible.

Someone like you can’t do anything.

The tiger growled.

“Mister?”

“Yes?”

“Is he gonna be okay?” She had to be around three or four years old. Maybe a little bit older.

Someone like you can’t do anything , the headmaster’s voice repeated. We’ll only know that if I try , he retorted.

Atsushi knew he didn’t have the confidence to do it but…

Many people had believed in him and in his capacities. He knew he would survive this. The tiger and he didn’t get along but the beast was still protective of him no matter what.

He could do it.

“Yes, he is.” Atsushi said to the child.

“Nakaji-”

Atsushi ran.

It felt like being inside the strange mix between a volcano and a nightmare. Everything was searing and suffocating. Around him he could see the remnants of objects which could have been beautiful before but which just looked downright terrifying at the moment. Stuffed animals and porcelain dolls didn’t look better when fire was devouring them.

Walking had never been this hard. Each step was painful. Most of the time, he didn’t even know where to put his feet in order not to get burnt.

Another problem was to find the man. Fortunately, his eyes had never betrayed him. When he opened them once again, white had turned into yellow and his human pupils became cat-like.

He is in the back shop.

His skin burnt and his lungs hated him. Smoke filled them and no matter how much he healed, it hurt. Tears fell down his face and with each of them it felt like a part of his life was leaving him.

Opening the door turned out to be a trial. When he finally managed it, his skin had taken a dark red colour. He brushed it away. He had endured worse.

“I have nothing against you, sir, but I have orders.” A soft voice whispered as he entered the back shop.

How could she be so calm at an instant like this?

Big brown eyes stared at him when she finally noticed him. It was the girl from the bookshop.

“What are you doing here?” She panicked.

He didn’t have the strength to answer back. He bent down and caught the man in front of him. Consciousness had almost left him.

“And he’s just a kid ! I can’t kill a kid ! I’m in trouble, so much trouble.” She was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t budge when he left.

He had better things to do than listen to a pyromaniac.

Carrying him would be an almost herculean task but he could manage. Slowly, he brought him to the exit.

No air in his lungs, no real path to follow which wasn’t covered by burning ruins and a heat so violent it was as if he was being cooked.

Each part of his body had been strengthened by his ability. Thanks to it, he was able to reach his goal. Relief flooded in his body. That was until he heard it.

The building will not hold for much longer.

He only had a few meters left. Only a few meters and he could see the sunlight again. Real warmth instead of this inferno. Atsushi tried to move quicker.

It wasn’t enough.

He perceived with extreme clarity the moment when the place gave up. Cracks turned into snaps and that was it.

Stones were raining on them. Had he been alone, he might have a chance to avoid it but right now?

Would his healing even work if he was crushed like an ant? It was something he was probably about to find out.

Closer and closer. Nothing could stop them. He could already feel his bones break under the stones’ weight.

Closer and closer. He still remembered the little girl’s words.

Closer and closer. Maybe it would end quickly and not be painful..

“After all, she only asked me to destroy this place. It’s not my fault if you don’t die.”

A tornado of flames went over their head and projected the debris away from them. He turned back.

The young woman was watching them. Her brown hair flew behind like an imitation of the fire she had caused.

“Leave, now or I won’t be able to protect you this time.”

“T-Thank you.” He whispered. Talking was close to impossible.

“It’s my fault if this is happening. Don’t thank me, please, and leave.”

He tried to answer but his throat refused and he decided to nod toward her instead.

The smile she gave him was one of the saddest he had ever seen.

When he finally exited and joined a cooler, less painful world, someone was waiting for them. Oda’s hair was going in all sort of different directions and a strong agitation had invaded his eyes. He went as far away as possible from the former shop, delicately put the man down and once he had checked the man was still breathing, he walked toward Oda.

“Are you alright?” Atsushi inquired.

The man opened his mouth as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You- you…”

“Maybe you should sit. You’re really pale, Oda-sa-”

A pair of arms engulfed him and stuck to a muscled chest. It didn’t feel uncomfortable. Quite the contrary but Atsushi couldn’t understand why he was doing it.

“Is something wrong?”

“You’re probably the stupidest, bravest kid I have ever met. Don’t you ever do that again.” Oda ordered.

“I can’t apologize for what I did.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Oda chuckled.

The same strong hands were holding him as if he was an anchor. As if he didn’t want him to disappear. Fingers ran through his hair. They were shorter now, the fire had latched onto them and if the tiger hadn’t helped he probably would have faced far worse consequences.

“We need to bring you to an hospital.”

“It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

For sole answer, Oda moved away, took Atsushi’s arm and brought it in front of his eyes. His skin had taken an almost crayfish shade. Most of his hairs had darkened and he could see a rather nasty burnt on his leg now that he paid a real attention. His lungs were also tightening painfully in his chest which didn’t predict anything good.

“Adrenaline?” He wondered.

“It’s going to start hurting soon. Someone called an ambulance. It should take too long to arrive so stay as still as you can.” Oda acquiesced.

As Atsushi was about to protest - he was fine , in a few minutes most of his wounds would have disappeared - Chuuya and Dazai joined them.

“She ran away, the bitch.” Chuuya complained.

“That’s because you were too slow, chibi.” Dazai explained. “At least now we know what she looks like.”

“Say that again, you damn bas-”

“You’re still alive, Atsushi-kun, I thought for a moment we’d have to find you a nice green spot to bury you. That’s surprising.”

“Shut up, mackerel. You alright here?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s quite the stunt you pulled here.”

“I had the ability to help.” Atsushi said, his voice oddly resolved. “So I did.”

A moment of silence and then his interlocutor’s face contorted with distaste.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Chuuya kept cursing. “You managed to find the only person more suicidal than the mackerel.”

“I am offended.” Dazai smiled as his hand started messing with Atsushi’s hair. “He behaved like the perfect suicidal maniac without any of my influence.”

Coughs climbed up and Atsushi’s whole body started protesting as he felt his whole blood boil.

It hurt. Why have I stopped healing?

The tiger was no longer present in his head. He had disappeared like flowers during winter. Only fear and panic remained. The taste of copper invaded his mouth and his mind blurred. Without the strength of the beast, he couldn’t manage to stand any longer.

“Nakajima, are you al-”

His legs gave out as his mind disconnected from reality. Falling into the dark didn’t take more than a second.

#bungou stray dogs #Dazai Osamu #atsushi nakajima #Oda Sakunosuke #Nakahara Chuuya #dazatsu

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miikkasakari · 5 years

Text

And then, at some point, it became apparent that Scott Lang was one of my favourite characters in the MCU, and the fun ride that was Ant-Man and the Wasp helped drive it home.

Ant-Man probably should not work on the big screen; it does largely because even despite all the wacky science it keeps itself grounded. The interpersonal drama is relatively minimal; by the time we’re at its sequel, it’s mostly gone. I mean, yeah, it’s there - Scott betrayed Hope and Hank - but he also has his unconventional family’s full love and support, and when he gets reunited with Hope, it doesn’t take her long to warm back up to him. Because ultimately, he’s still a good, well-meaning person, and she can’t distance herself from him as a means to an end.

It’s Scott being so likeable that makes the entire thing click. His goal is pretty simple, as it has been in most moments we see him: be there for Cassie in whatever way he can. While Maggie and Paxton weren’t trusting of him in the first movie, by the time the second one comes around, even though he’s technically done something so much worse they fully trust him; it’s because he’s made it clear Cassie is his world and he would do anything for her and to ensure her safety. Paxton saw it with his own eyes in the first one. He didn’t just magically get everyone’s trust - he had to earn it back. With his family it was off-screen; with Hope and Hank, it was on-screen.

I really, really love how quickly they’re able to come back together. And one of the highlights of these movies is how unique they can get with battle sequences - and though Ghost’s abilities limited any real battle sequences with her, the effects were extremely cool - and a big part of that is how flexible Scott and Hope can be while teaming up. It’s fun and adds an extra dynamic, both to their relationship and to the overall direction. And I really can’t emphasize it enough: the way they’re able to so quickly fall back into how things first were between them is a genuine delight. They’re partners.

There’s also the whole “Scott is the only good dad in the entire MCU” thing which, really, he is; a great deal of his emotional core focuses on parenting and him acknowledging how he can be a better parent. Cassie adores him and while he’s able to give her as much time as he can he’s also capable of recognizing what it is to be an adult and restrictions he may have to impose on her as an authority figure (i.e. telling her he’d be a terrible parent if he let her go out superheroing at 10). A lot of Scott’s character is played as a joke, but it’s a reminder that he’s an adult and a character who’s more than one-off comedic relief. It’s all through the heart of the movies and it all works so well.

Scott is just such a good, loveable character. That’s also part of what makes the post-credits scene as tragic as it is - because in all likelihood, he’s going through a lot of trauma, too. Who knows what Janet went through while stuck in the quantum realm for 30 years; we don’t yet know how long it will be for Scott but it has to be a combination of abandonment, hopelessness, betrayal, and fear, all oscillating as he has no idea what’s happened. Seeing everyone get dusted in Infinity War was tragic (and the real world implications of it were driven home in the second post-credits scene, it was haunting); seeing a terrible fate befall just one person connects so much more strongly. I was more excited for Endgame after my first showing of Ant-Man and the Wasp than I was after Infinity War precisely because of that end credits scene: I want to know how Scott is affected. I’m sure some of it will be played for jokes, but some of it won’t be. And he’s such a loveable, wholesome character; I want to know how he’s going to deal with all of it, specifically. Everyone else too, but he’s going to be in such a unique situation. The superhero name is silly, but what he can add is massive - and I’m really looking forward to seeing him in a more serious tone, something we haven’t quite had the chance to yet. (There have been moments in his films but the overall tone of them has been joyful, and I love that, I love feeling happy watching them, but hey, something else isn’t bad.)

Speaking of being stuck in the quantum realm: I really appreciate how the MCU has chosen to handle Hank. They’ve completely side-stepped the domestic abuse because it wasn’t possible in this universe, but they still made it clear he’s still Hank: the only people who can stand to work with him are his family (and Scott). The fact that he’s a controlling dick still completely comes through, especially in his arguments with Bill. It’s easy to see why he would get completely on everybody’s nerves and alienate everyone around him; he’s brilliant but who wants to be around that? How does anyone tolerate it? He’s not a bad person but you can see how he could have been.

But I also love how much Hope will always stick by him. She’s very family-oriented: she lost her mom at a young age; she’s not going to lose her dad. And she sees how Scott treats his daughter, probably sees a bit of herself in Cassie, and it helps their relationship as well. When Scott is pleading with Hope and Hank that he has to leave the lab and make sure he’s still at his place when the FBI shows up she’s obviously distraught for a number of reasons but she isn’t going to argue with him having to leave, and I’d think that’s partly because she’s more stressed out about her own situation but also because she’s thinking of Cassie, too. That they all got to have a movie night together at the end was the perfect start for a new, extended branch of this family. The amount everyone in this movie cares for one another - to the point of taking action of making sure that Ava will be okay (and that Ava’s motivation was understandable and they didn’t make her a full-on villain, but really worked well to ensure a grey area with her) - is really touching. The only major conflict was with a corrupt businessman, which we can all agree, yeah, fuck that guy.

Oh, and the constant cat-and-mouse feel of the movie, culminating in a massive three-way chase climax? So much fun, and different than yet another final battle. I don’t even know how long it takes because I don’t feel the need to check the time, it doesn’t drag at all; watching three different parties with warring interests fight over a box is awesome.

But back to Hope for one more point: her fight scenes are the best. Yes, her with Scott together, but also just her. She has a gimmick of course, but she also isn’t super-powered, and that makes them even better to watch. Here’s the first time Marvel has bothered to put a female character in the title of one of its movies, sharing equal billing with a man, and she more than pulls her weight, both in terms of character and action. She’s a woman leading in a comic book movie and she fits in so seamlessly.

Other than the importance of family and helping people there’s no real underlying message. But the movie manages to juggle so many different plot points - six different directions, with Scott vs. the FBI, Jimmy vs. Scott (and I didn’t even get into Jimmy! But he’s hilarious and it’s the perfect fit for a bit conflict amidst everything else that goes on in this movie), trying to get Janet back, trying to heal Ava, dealing with Sunny, and Luis trying to get his business up and going (and there’s the brief political moment - “do you know how hard it is for ex-cons to get work” - and I’d really love to see how these movies could turn out if played totally straight, because somewhere out there, there’s a version of it that works) - and it never once feels overstretched or too complicated. A bunch of crazy shit happened to four different groups of people all at once and everyone’s dealing and it’s wildly entertaining (not to mention, occasionally, truly hilarious - Scott channeling Janet [and their first meeting! Kind of! Was so sweet!] and Luis’ narration coming back into the fold two of the major highlights).

It’s fun. After all of the surrounding drama, it’s just so much fun. Which is what made the post-credits scene such a shock - of course the movie itself had to stand alone from Infinity War, but there also had to be some kind of connection there - and brought it back out from its own isolated pocket of the MCU. But it’s such a good pocket that it’s going to be really wonderful to see it immersed with everyone else, even if the tone shifts with it.

#mcu essay dorking

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brittanyyoungblog · 3 years

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