#but it’s full of recognizable obstacles that I have seen many other people take on before and sure most of them have failed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neocity-sarai · 4 years

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The Last of Us

✧ main concept: divergent au! (inspired by the divergent novel by Veronica Roth)

✧ pairing: lee jeno x reader

✧ alerts: mentions of death, blood, violence, suggestive, sexual implications, cursing, mentions of other nct members, longer than I anticipated

✧ song reference: “hurricane” by fleurie

Society is a complex concept. It’s this mind-twisting thing to question who gets to live where, who gains freedom- who gets a choice. Categories. Categories of people: they get to choose where you belong like they’ve already wrapped your entire existence in chain links. In Chicago, we’re deemed by another word for categories, something called the faction system. The first is Abnegation- the selfless souls and the ones who actually care about what goes on around them. On the total opposite end is Erudite. Erudite’s full of big-brained people or so they claim, I have yet to interact with many Erudite-ties. Amity is my favorite one if I had to pick, they’re like the neutralizing acid to the fire and ice of the factions. All they do is farm the food and give each other extra cookies when a new neighbor moves to their section- no harm done. Candor seems like the most intimidating because of their snappy mouths and their inabilities to lie if your dress looks ugly. My dad tells me they’re difficult to negotiate with. The last but not least is Dauntless. The faction with the scary- absolutely mental kids who jump off moving trains and through knives around like they’re frisbees. Yet, there’s something so exhilarating, so free about them. On the day of my choosing ceremony, my nerves raced like a million circuits sparking through my veins. Dad gave me a knowing look, his eyes are hardened and stiff while he clutches mom’s sweaty palm. I have always been Abnegation born. My blood pumps to the beat of my family’s simple, slow-paced life. Our clothes have always been a shade of faded grey: the color of the clouds before they tease a rainstorm. The minimalism of our plain walls, my mother’s sleek bun, and my bedroom have always kept me comfortable all this time. Why do I find myself yearning for more?- I'm greedy for the taste of adventurous anticipation. Shouldn’t I just stick to what I know? What I’m used to?

My heart practically stops when I see my brother slit his calloused palm open as crimson blood drips to the stillness of the water, the drop rippling the serenity of it. To my right, I hear my mom choke on her breath while she continuously flicks her head back from my brother to my father. The creases on his face deepen, his mouth folding into a dipped frown. “Erudite.” Reflective tears begin to roll down mom’s face, her other hand covering her mouth in efforts to suppress her sobs.

“Y/N. L/N.”

The emotionless woman’s voice catches me off guard. I feel my muscles locking together. My hands getting progressively clammy that even my mother’s fingers can’t calm the bump of my knee. I huff out a shaky breath. I don’t even realize that my knees are carrying me down towards the stage as the tall woman guides me to the table at the center of it. The room feels like it’s spinning out of control, how have I not thrown up yet? Like a puppet master entwining the strings, my split hand hovers over the bowl of silver flintstones. I watch the shiny, scarlet liquid trickle down in slow motion- each second ticking in a time bomb. The thought of jolting my hand towards the bowl of sizzling, asphalt coals makes me shudder. The woman eyes me with utter impatience. I squeeze my eyes shut while I mentally count down from three, as if that would urge me to make a last-minute decision. It works. “Dauntless.”

The cheers that vibrate behind me of deafening, the auditorium shakes from the constant tremble of the stomps. The classic, recognizable, dauntless hoot is like a call of a wolf pack, a mantra that beckons the beauty of danger. I feel several hands slap the fabric of my dress on my back, I don’t even want to glance up to see my parents’ faces. Instead, I shuffle with the rest of the people dressed in black outfits as I accidentally catch my mother’s desperate eyes from the side aisle.

I can’t believe I just did that. I went against everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve ever really stood for. Why does it feel so good? Unfamiliar faces grin at me as they launch themselves up tall, rust-covered beams, climbing the heights like excited monkeys. When they reach the top, they run forward like a line of stallions, waiting to seize that perfect moment. A bullet train whooshes past my nose by a hair as it’s rickety cars trail behind it. “Let’s go!” screams a boy. Freezing in my spot, the wind threatens to knock me off my feet and onto the ground below the railings. A girl next to me motions at me with her finger, “What the hell are you waiting for?”I digest her words before I take off behind her- gaining on the speeding train. I was never built for this. I wasn’t ever built to run this hard, to run this fast. Everything blurs past me in a tornado of city buildings, tiny people, and ribbons of sunset lighting. Looking ahead of me, the railing is about to end and I don’t have much time left. The same girl sticks her head out the train opening, “Hurry the hell up! Hurry!”

I scream with a burn in my lungs, my legs launching my body into the narrow space. I land on a funny part of my shoulder as my body rolls and rolls- someone’s leg halting my tumble. My dress is wrapped around my thighs, my hair sticks my lips in a mess. “Whoa, going somewhere?” I whip my hair out of my face, a boy removing his foot from the side of my shoulder while all the other dauntless members chuckle by his comment. He’s not at all what I’d expect to see when I sit up. He’s a taller-framed boy who’s dressed in a navy-black outfit and a carved face that could be sculpted from a roman statue. His hair is a pure obsidian shade, one that’s darker than the finest ink in my brother’s fountain-pen collection. His jaw juts out in an aesthetic manner, his bangs curling on one side of his forehead while he pushes his tongue against the side of his cheek, “I don’t remember the last time the leaders cleaned the floor of this train, you might want to stand.” I stutter before standing up way too fast as vertigo washes over my brain in interval waves. I dust myself off, feeling the grime on the tips of my fingers. I nod at him, “Uh, thanks for stopping me?”

He laughs as his midnight eyes crinkle into slim crescents, his white teeth gleaming brighter than the gold ball that hangs on the edge of the streaky sky. He runs a gloved hand through his damp, dark locks, “You’re going to deal with a lot more than getting yourself soiled on a sooty train.” Nodding, I look around to see the other initiates glaring back at our conversation, their eyes unfazed when I catch them. I awkwardly shift towards the tall boy, his height towering over me. His eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes side-eye me, “You’ll get a hang of it though. Welcome to Dauntless.”

Right. I’m dauntless now. When the train bangs into some obstacle with a ear-shattering boom, I have to grab the frames of the windows for support so I don’t accidentally pummel the boy to the ground. He breezes past me as he steps off the platform as if our conversation had all been in my imagination. “Everyone, gather around!” All the initiates follow suit, gathering around a boy dressed in a thicker, leather jacket and matching pants. He’s a bit shorter than the raven-haired boy yet his build seems almost similar. Glittering gold rings litter the edges of his ear cartilage, his lips red like his hair, and eyes that could swallow your soul. He claps his hands in the air, “My name is Taeyong. I will be your head instructor responsible for your training. My vice is this idiot here- Jeno.” Jeno headlocks Taeyong hastily, scraping his fingernails against the top of Taeyong’s flaming hairs, “Hyung, you’re just as much of an idiot as I am.” Taeyong pushes the younger back with immense force- enough force for Jeno to step back, hands raised in mock surrender. Once Taeyong clears his throat, he stiffens, “Okay, first order of business. Let’s get to where we need to be.” Taeyong shuffles backwards, lifting himself until he stands on a short ledge. The other initiates gasp, their jaws dropped in shock. Taeyong smirks, “See you on the other side. Jeno, don’t be late.”

Taeyong falls back in a t-position, his eyes closing with relief as he plummets down into the shadowy void beneath him. “Wait!” a girl screams, lurching over the ledge to watch Taeyong disappear as his laugh echoes from the chasm. Jeno shakes his head, a small smile gracing his thin lips, “That sucker.” His eyes snap into realization, irises gleaming with amusement, “So, who wants to go first?” I subconsciously find myself backing away from the spot where Jeno is standing, my skin feels cold from the sudden wind that whips around us all. He points at me with a determined finger, his black glove hugging his knuckles, “You. Armadillo on the train, you’re up.”The blonde girl next to me cackles at the name, her snorts come out in an irritating sound. His joke wasn’t that hilarious. I slowly slip through the people, Jeno taking my hand to help me up on the ledge. I jolt at his sudden contact, “Relax. You’re wearing heels, just making sure you don’t land on your arms.” I swish his hand away, spreading my legs apart for grasping balance. This is absolutely insanity. Squinting into the void, it looks like I’m about to descend into a black hole never to be seen again. An extremely short boy shouts impatiently, “We don’t have all day! It’ll be my 50th birthday in 2 seconds!”

Shaking off their laughs, I concentrate on the syncopation of my heart. I can do this. I just need to breathe. I suck in the air that’s tinted with a smoky note, heaving it into the body of my lungs. Let go. I’m falling. I scream when my dress flies up uncontrollably, my hands fumbling to keep it down. My hairs whip my cheek painfully as the stinging sensation covers my skin. Unh. My back hits the rubber of a puffed inflatable. I feel the dips in water-proof latex beneath me. I’m rolling again, my hands reaching out for purchase. Like a flash, my body is submerged in ice cold water that flows into the heat pockets of my clothing. When I swim up for air, I notice a large, circular pool bed that’s floating on azure-tinted water. It’s a cave. The walls are thick with granite. Some rocky spikes stick out on the rims of the hole, water dripping from the tips. I hear a shout, “Incoming!!” Jeno lands on his back, his figure scrambling into the blanket of water as he grabs hold of my waist. He splashes around, waves colliding with my face, “Jeno, stop flailing!”

He pauses, staring back at me, “Wait a minute, you’re not drowning?”

I raise my eyebrow, “Does it look like I am?”

He purses his lips, hair matted over his eyes slightly, “Well. I can say no now. It seems. I heard a scream and thought you were..”

I shake my head, “No, I just fell in, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

We pause for a moment before Jeno guides me to the concrete floor that extends a few feet away from the inflatable platform before extending his hand to me. I take it, my dress dragging in a wet, soggy mess. Before looking up, Jeno exclaims, covering his eyes, “Shoot!”

“What?! What?!” I scream.

Jeno motions at me with his finger, “You- you’re- your dress..”

I look down at my dress, “What’s wrong with my dre-”

Not only has the fabric of my dress soaked through, my chest was obviously transparent. My cheeks heat up in embarrassment, trying my best to cover up with the folds of soggy fabric, “Jeno, don’t look!”

Jeno’s eyes are squinted so hard, “I won’t! I’m not!”

Taeyong’s voice booms in the cave, “What’s going on here?”

I wave a cautious arm in the air, swiveling around out of Taeyong’s view. He screams beside Jeno, “What’s taking so long? Why are you down here?”

Jeno’s words come out in an undecipherable line, “I--well you see, I heard a yell and I thought she was drowning and well, I saw her scream and well- other initiatives are still up top..”

Without having to turn around, I mentally see Taeyong rolling his eyes, socking Jeno with a punch, “Must I do everything myself?”

I hear him advance closer to me, “Why are you turned around?”

I flail my limbs as hard as I can, “I’m indecent! Don’t come any closer!”

Taeyong pauses his footsteps before he cooly says, “Jeno, get her changed while I get the rest of the initiates. We start orientation soon, we’re already behind schedule. I’m not about to be lectured by Yuta.”

Taeyong walks off to the side of the cave, opening a plain metal door in the process. Jeno huffs, “Okay, you’re going to have to follow me. I promise I won’t turn around.”

I scurry to him, my back still facing him, “You’re sure?”

“You can count on it.”

When I finally swish around, I notice the undercut line of Jeno’s hair and a thin, black swirl that extends around the back of his ear to his back. Tattoos are also a signature dauntless thing. I shouldn’t be surprised. Jeno marches quickly ahead of me, “You know, your tumbling is getting you into trouble. You really are an armadillo at heart.”

I scoff, holding myself back from knocking him in the shoulder blade, “Can you stop calling me that? I have a name, genius.”

Jeno smirks, “Oh really? What might that be?”

“Y/N. Don’t wear it out.”

Jeno coughs lowly, “I think I like armadillo better. But, I guess I could alternate.”

“Don’t call me that period.”

“Geez, don’t let the cold water turn your heart to ice.”

Finally, Jeno pulls out a ring of spiky keys. He turns one into a locked closet that houses multiple shelves of black uniforms: black sweatshirts, jogging pants, and black combat boots in every size. “What’s your size?”

“Medium and shoe size is 7.”

Jeno nods, perusing through the racks, “Coming right up, Y/N.”

Once he’s done, he sets a pile of clothes and a pair of boots on a short table, “You can change here. Come out of the closet when you’re done.”

I do as he says, slipping off the soggy mess of my dress off my ankles. Once I put the whole outfit on, I realize that I don’t look like myself in the mirror. So different from back home. So different from just yesterday. I tie my sticky hair into a thick braid, my mother’s hair-tie holding it together. “I’m ready.”

When I step out, I get a once-over from Jeno, “Black suits you better than that drab grey. How’d you wear that every day?”

“I didn’t mind much because all of abnegation is like that.”

He tsks his tongue, “Well, you won’t have to anymore.”

The walk back to the rest of the initiates is silent as Jeno guides me through a series of hallways and cave corridors before reaching a spacious room, “Hyung, we’re good to go.”

All the other kids are already dressed in uniform, the girls glaring at from where they stand- their eyes filled with envy. Is it because I came in with Jeno?

Taeyong shakes his head disappointingly, “We’ve managed to catch up. Let’s start the basics.”

As Taeyong paces back and forth on a small platform, he teaches us all about Dauntless rules. He discusses dauntless values like they’re his sworn religion since birth. He beats his curled fist onto his chest with determination, enunciating all the pillars that uphold the faction itself. He lists the leaders: Yuta, Johnny, him, Jaehyun, Mark, and someone named Jaegger. Once he’s done, Jeno rises from the chair he was sitting in, “How about we get started with some action?”

Taeyong holds a palm at him, “Hold on. I have to call Jaegger. He wants to supervise.”

Jeno groans, “That guy again?”

Taeyong nods sternly, “You know the rules.”

Taeyong hadn’t explained who Jaegger was yet. Within several seconds, a burly man busts through the metal door, his entire bald head detailed with inked markings. He’s got spikes sticking out of his ears and by the rims of his eyebrows- he looks like a villain straight out of a street gang. His icy, blue eyes dart with hysteria, “Let’s get it done.”

Taeyong nods, “I need two volunteers.”

Among the group, the blonde girl who had stood next to me before shoots her arm up instantly as she flips her hair onto one side. Besides her, no one else volunteers. They stare around each other or look down to the ground, avoiding all forms of eye contact. I accidentally look up because I don’t expect Taeyong to be in my line of sight. He flicks his fingers at me, “You. The one who messed up during the first jump. Try it out.”

Jeno intervenes, “Hyung, she just got into warm clothes- I don’t think she should-”

Taeyong glares back at the taller boy, “Hush, Jeno. I’ve made my decision.”

Jeno closes his mouth, shaking his head in refusal. Everyone in the group parts away from me like a drop of oil in a puddle of water, this singling-out thing is not doing good for me. The blonde girl follows me on to the platform ring that Taeyong and Jeno step off of. I look at her. She looks at me. We glance at Taeyong but instead, Jaegger speaks. He rubs a hand across his polished, bald head, “Rules are simple. This is a combat exercise. Go at it until one of you can’t stand.”

I stare back at him wide-eyed only to see Taeyong crossing his arms beside Jaegger and Jeno looking like he wants to say something. He doesn’t though. Jaegger raises an eyebrow with a scar slashed on it, “Well?”

I look back at the blonde girl and she’s got a sinister grin smashed on her face, “Well, this should be fun.”

Thinking back on the conditions, blondie is built thicker than me, she’s got more muscle, and she’s got huge hands. In this situation, how can I win? Defensively, she raises her fists in front of her as she toes around me. Occasionally, she’ll flip hair out of her face before she skips forward to swing at me. I miss it by a little bit of room, her eyes angry with frustration. Jaegger coughs dramatically, “Stop being idiots and commence already. I don’t have time for bullshit.”

I’m too focused on Jaegger’s words to realize that blondie’s already coming at me in one swift motion- her first hitting square on the high point of my nose. I taste rusty iron like I’ve licked a bucket of old nails. Blood seeps from my nose on to my lip, I swipe the red stream with my sleeve. My best bet is to catch her by surprise when she’s not expecting it. Lunging for her torso, I try tackling her the hardest I can muster only for her to jab her elbow into my spine. Feeling myself hit the hard platform not only feels like excruciating pain but also feels like sheer disappointment. I can’t give up so easily. I rise from my fall, my back hunched and limbs swinging at awkward angles as I try to take her down once again. Instead, she wraps her bulky arms around my waist as she practically throws me to the copper outline of the ring. I see swirling stars, the room getting sucked into a dizzying oblivion of shadows. My breath is sucked out of me, my legs unable to move from the instant paralysis. When I wake up in a few hours, searing pain throbs at the corner of my brow. A rosy bruise blossoms on the bone, purple marks littering my chin and cheek. Ow. It’s only the first day and I’ve already landed myself in the infirmary. The only pleasing thing about it is that the room is lit with melancholy lavender-colored lights- the purple glow making me feel like I’m in some type of euphoric fever dream. A girl lays awake in the gurney bed next to be, her eyes shot up at the ceiling. She’s thinner than me, freckles dot her face in clusters. Her orangey hair is tied in a messy ponytail. “Oh, you’re awake.” she says.

I nod, “Do you know how long I’ve been out?”

She turns her head to me, revealing a sickly-looking gash on the side of her cheek, “A few hours. I just woke a bit before you. Your snoring was super loud.”

Opening my mouth, I try to think of what to say. I can’t. I muse, “What happened to you?”

She smiles, her lips upturned at the corners, “We’re in the same batch. After your fight with Marlene, Jaegger made me fight too. Obviously, I didn’t win.”

There’s some sort of innocent nativity that I sense in her, it’s almost adorable. She shifts on her side with a wince, “I should also probably tell you that Jaegger told us about the point dock system.”

“Point dock?”

She nods, placing a stray hair behind her ear, “Yeah. He said, ‘if we believe you don’t make the cut, you’re out. Out of dauntless. Out of your old faction. You’ll be left to the factionless..’ and then after, the whole class went silent.”

My mouth drops into a square, “What? Out for good? They can do that?”

She slaps her hand onto her forehead, “Apparently so. You and I are so screwed.”

I nod, “How do you know if you don’t make the cut?”

She replies, “Oh, Jaegger said they’ll make it crystal clear.”

I close my mouth, making the conversation evaporate between us. “What’s your name?” the girl says.

“Y/N. You?”

“Seulgi. Amity if you were wondering.”

“Abnegation- born.”

“I see.”

I swing my legs off the gurney bed, “Can we just leave?” Seulgi rubs her thumb and index finger on her chin, “I think so. There’s no one here besides us.” When both of us exit the violet infirmary, we’re greeted with ominous, stone-covered corridors that vibrate with the sound of hollering further down. We follow the sound into the main foyer. It’s a lobby full of long tables, initiates dressed in raven-colored uniforms, and strings of crystalline lights that glitter above their heads. It’s teeming with life, some people are in a separate area as they tackle each other within a ring and some opt to sit and talk in the lounge space. Seulgi notions, “This is the pit. I guess this is where everyone hangs out.” I nod back at her, “No kidding.” I hope that didn’t sound ruder out loud. When we make our way towards the tables, we see a couple of boys and girls wave at Seulgi, “Seul, over here!” She happily runs to them, dragging my hand along. They embrace her in firm handshakes and side hugs, passing us both two plates of food. A boy to Seulgi’s left laughs, “Some bruises you got, poor Seulgi.” She grins, “Hey, at least I fought the best I could. Later, I’ll become stronger than Serena and beat her up.” The group erupts in laughter, some unknown liquid spilling out of their silvery cups. She gestures at me, “We’ve got a new recruit for our crew.” They go silent, peering around Seulgi to get a better view of me.

I awkwardly wave, “Good to be here?”

The boy flashes me a thumbs up, “Glad to have you. You put up a fight against that bitch Marlene.”

Laughing a little, I nod, “It doesn’t help that she threw me around like a bulldog’s chew toy.”

A girl across from the boy says, “It wasn't even fair though! She was way bigger than you, the circumstances were so unbalanced.” Seulgi nudges me in the arm, “Tough cookie, you’re going to beat her one day. I know you will.”

The boy raises his cup, everyone following his lead, “Cheers on that! Cheers to dauntless’s newest additions!”

Our cups almost overspill our drinks onto our food, drops landing by my plate. Seulgi perks up suddenly, “You know guys, I have an idea. How about we get celebratory tattoos? You know, dauntless style?”

The girl who sits across from Seulgi cackles sarcastically, “On my virgin body, no way!”

Seulgi punches her lightly, “Come on, Adema, don’t be a vibe-killer! It’ll be fun!”

“Quit being so loud initiates.”

We all pause our excitement, turning our heads to see the voice that had spoken to us. It was Jeno. He stood before us, one plate of food in one hand. It was like his demeanor had suddenly changed from friendly vice Jeno to a cold-blooded teenage version of Jaegger. He flops his food down with clank, launching himself into the seat next to me. I speak up, “Jeno, we weren’t being that loud. Everyone here is like, yelling.”

He cocks up a dark eyebrow, lilting his head to the side, “Who said I asked? I saw you all being loud, that’s how it is.”

Seulgi nudges me once more, whispering, “Don’t engage, it’s fine.”

Her plead makes me want to provoke Jeno even more. I sip my drink in contempt. Glaring at him, “did something happen? Why are you like this all of a sudden?”

Jeno widens his onyx eyes at me, his jaw gritting with pressure, “Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to assume?”

I shoot back, “I’m respectfully asking, I’m not inferring. There’s a difference.”

Jeno cards a veiny hand through his messy locks, “Either way, I don’t care. You should just know when to stop asking.”

All of dinner was awkward to say the least. Even so, by the end, we all made our way to the dauntless studio- the one built like an underground speakeasy nightclub. The lights in the room rotate between red, green, and blue lights as some rnb song vibrates in the background of hissing needles. A row of velvet-cushioned chairs lined the parlor as a gigantic tower of tattoo designs rotated in the center of the room. A bar was placed on the side where there were a row of sinks and hair-cutting stations. We all muse around the swirling tower, Seulgi opting for a design of a flaming rose. “Where are you going to get yours?”

She smiles at me, “I’ve always wanted one near my hip. I don’t know, it just sounds sexy to me.”

The boy whose name goes by Renjun laughs, “Should I get a biker-hillbilly esque skull or should I go for the phoenix?”

The girls laugh, “Definitely the phoenix.”

When I trail off to find my own design, I opt for a more simple dauntless insignia as a commemoration. I don’t want anything too crazy. Renjun and Seulgi sneak up on me, “Find what you want?”

I smile back at them excitedly, “I think so!”

“Next appointment for Y/N!”

I sigh, “Well, that’s me!”

Seulgi laughs, “Good luck, girlie!”

When I make way to the counter, I’m greeted by a honey-blonde boy who seems only a few years older than me. His hair falls longer past the nape of his neck, his features apparent of chinese descent. He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his arms covered in beautiful patches of flowers. I take note of the pair of angel wings on his throat. He sighs, “My name is Ten, I’ll be doing your design today.”

“Okay.” I sit down in his station’s chair, the one embellished with gold detailing. He sticks a smoking cigarette into his mouth after breathing out a misty cloud, “What’d you want?’”

I give him the slide of my design, he raises his eyebrows at me, “Really? Just this?”

I shrug, “I like simple.”

Ten makes a skeptical facial expression, “I can respect that.”

When he works, I try my best to stay as still as possible. I feel my arms and hands shake too much in the anticipation of the needle’s point . Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised by the sharpness, by the slight but not overbearing pain when Ten outlines the symbol in jet black. He continues to chew on the butt of his cigarette, swallowing back the bitter flavor, “So, you a new initiate?”

I turn my head towards him, “Yes.”

“How do you like it here?”

“Still takes some time to get used to, it’s not all bad. Better than being bored back in abnegation.”

His eyebrows crinkle with recognition, “Huh, I used to be in abnegation too.”

“Really? What made you switch?”

He pauses for a moment, thinking about his words, “My family. I wasn’t the biggest fan of their house-hold rules.” “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head defiantly, “No need to be sorry. I enjoy Dauntless.”

Ten continues, “By the way, I’m done.” The skinny boy hands me a beautiful- rose-detailed mirror, the glass reflecting the dauntless insignia on the back of my shoulder. He puts a pair of small glasses on, “I’ll give you all the aftercare items you’ll need- it shouldn’t be puffy like that for too long.”

I smile at him, “I honestly love it. Thank you.”

He grunts in agreement before packing various bottles and fabric cloths into a small pink sack and handing it to me. Ten pushes up the bridge of his glasses from slipping down his nose, “Could I ask, what’s your name?”

“Uh- Y/N.”

Ten breaks into a smile that’s almost scarily big, “Ah-Y/N. I thought so. You got dauntless on your aptitude test, right?”

“Um, why are you saying it like that? And to answer your question, yes, I did.”

He laughs amusingly, “Anyway, a little birdie tells me that you made Jeno so embarrassed on your first jump.”

My cheek flare up with redness, “You heard about that?”

Ten unwraps a honey lollipop from one of the drawers at his station, “Of course I did, Jen’s like a little brother to me. I know things even the others don’t know.”

Winking, Ten motions at me, “Don’t tell him I said this but, I think he needs someone like you in his life. The kid’s been struggling on his own.”

I raise my brows out of curiosity, “To tell you the truth, he was extremely rude to my friends and I at dinner just now.”

Ten waves me off, lollipop flinging between his fingers, “Agh- forget that! It’s just a mask that he wears to seem tough since he’s in dauntless. He’s just a sweet kid.”

I mutter, “Even so, he was very rude.”

“He doesn’t mean it, he would never say that on his own out of malicious intent. Please, just give him a chance.”

As resignation, I consider it, “Okay. I’ll try my best to forgive him of the grievances.”

Ten reaches into his bottom drawer again, pulling out a strawberry lollipop, “Good. Take one for your troubles.”

Once I finish thanking Ten, I wait for the rest of the group to get their tattoos before heading back to our dormitory. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen it yet. When we get back, I’m appalled by the acidic smell of bleach that floats from the showers in the corner. The beds are hard as rocks and even worse- there’s no privacy between the boys or girls. Dauntless couldn’t have spent one more second to install walls in the rooms? The next few mornings were dreadful. Every single day, we were awoken by Taeyong’s and Jaegger’s barking orders through a megaphone. Days and nights were spent learning partner combat, close-range shooting, and weapons mastery. Of course, it was hard for me to keep up. I barely could hit the dummy targets. I was the first to run out of breath during the exercises. Even Seulgi, Renjun, and the others were making amazing progress. Jeno’s nice enough to give me an array of pointers, some personal lessons when Taeyong isn’t paying attention. The question remains: will it be enough to be my name above the line?

Few days later

Because I was still struggling the most, I only believed it to be right that I had to work the hardest to do something about it. In my family, we were never allowed vanity. But, we were allowed pride. I felt the need to prove myself to the other initiates, to Taeyong, and to maybe even as far as Jeno. In the middle of the night, I was in our classroom as I practiced close-range shooting on a rice-bag decoy, my goggles becoming foggy from my warm breath. It was probably past midnight then and seeing how silent it was, I’m sure everyone was safely tucked into their back-breaking beds. That’s when I felt a pair of arms surround mine- a face pressed up against my cheek. Without having to look, I knew it was Jeno. His lips barely grazed my hair, his fingers wrapped securely around mine. When did he come in? I didn’t even notice him? He places his index finger on top of mine where the trigger is, “The trick is to focus on your scope rather than the target itself. Aim at an angle so you don’t miss.”

I follow suit, my bullet lodging straight into the bulls-eye heart of the rice decoy, some grains spilling out into a small pile on the floor. I nod, testing his tip again, my bullet hits the decoy by the shoulder. He gives a small applause, “Now you’ve got it!”

“Thanks for the lesson.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Jeno chuckles awkwardly, “So, I was just on my way out to grab a few things and I’m making a stop by the coffee machine, did you want me to get anything for you?”

I shake my head, “I’m good, thank you.”

My mind flips back to Jeno’s stark hostility that peeked through a few nights ago- how could he be the same boy now? He heartily laughs, “I’m getting you one. You’ve been at this for hours and I think you need it.”

Sighing in defeat, I pique, “Wait, how do you know I’ve been up?”

Already making his way to the door, he turns as he smiles until his eyes fold into his eyelids, “Just a hunch. I’ll be back.”

I take a rest on a near-by bench, my legs thrumming to the vibration in the building pipes. A loud boom sounds from outside the training room as if someone had dropped something. Peeking out the tiny door window, “Jeno, is that you?”

There’s no reply. Opening the door carefully, I stick my head out into the hallway to my left- there’s no one in sight. In a span of a few seconds, I feel a rag be pressed to my mouth as my screams come out in silenced muffles. Three large figures wrap their arms around every part of my body, carrying me as if I was a sack of trash ready for dump-pickup. Kicking and screaming kind of helps but doesn’t at the same time. I’ve learned to maneuver my body in certain ways, twisting out of grips but whoever these people are, they keep a strong pin on my wrists. They’re all wearing black masks like some vigilante robbers- cowards, they don’t even dare to reveal their faces. I continue to scream, “Let me go! Get off!” The more I struggle, the more they squeeze my wrists and ankles. Suddenly, I’m dropped to the ground, my back hitting the concrete with a smack, one of the figures wrenches my braid over the chasm drop. The person grabs my face, threatening to toss me down the water-filled void, “We know you’re protecting Jeno’s secret! Confirm it or die!”

I grit my teeth in response, “What the hell? What secret??I barely know him?”

The voice, that of a young boy’s, “Trying to play stupid huh?”

My words come out in whimper, “Seriously, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re not even that close.”

The second figure hisses at the younger boy with a deeper gruff, “We’re taking too much time. Let’s just get rid of her.”

Feeling my back lose stabilization on the ground, the top half of my body is already above the chasm- a little more and I’d splat like an insect. I reach out to grab hold of something, someone, only to be met with a kick to the ribs. I bite my tongue out of pain, blood seeping to my lips. The iron taste is familiar yet sickening, I didn’t come to dauntless to die like this.

“Get the fuck off her!” Jeno’s voice booms with anger as he flies his fist at the figures standing behind my captor. One by one, they fall to the ground in defeat as their limbs fail to lurch back at Jeno. He grabs the boy holding my hair by the back of his collar, swinging him into the granite wall behind us as the boy’s pained shouts reverberate through the cave. In haste, Jeno pulls me up into his arms, his eyes wild with furious sparks that flame at the center of his ash eyes, “Why did you go outside when I wasn’t back yet?”

I stutter, “I heard a loud noise so I stuck my head out and yeah..”

He shakes his head, “Do you like getting into trouble? You almost died back there!”

Gazing at him, “But I didn’t. Because you came.”

Jeno’s features soften, his frame melting with the weight of my body in his arms, “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just be quiet and see, Y/N.”

After Jeno leads me through a series of elevators, stairwells, and corridors, we arrive at a door. Swinging it open, we’re met with a cold gust of wind, my skin tingling from the icy air. Jeno sits at the end of the rooftop as he plops down, legs swinging over the edge. The view is absolutely breathtaking. In Abnegation, we never really had any windows to see the outside world. This was a stark contrast: a view of each of the sections in the distance. Candor’s buildings touch the stormy skies, Amity’s farming dome covers their entire section, and the center city emits noises from the factionless bartering for food. If you squint hard enough, there’s a wall that surrounds the entire perimeter- urging you to wonder what’s beyond it. Jeno says softly, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I nod in agreement, “Really is.”

Plopping beside him, our thighs barely touch, my hands placed awkwardly on the roof’s surface. Jeno fixes his hair as he tustles his bangs back and forth before biting his lip in anticipation. His voice comes out in a timid but deep vibration, “I’m sorry.”

I stare back at him incredulously, “What are you sorry for?”

Jeno fiddles with the black thread from the fabric of his gloves, “Back at dinner. A few nights ago, I wasn’t very kind to you and your friends.”

Surprised with his apology, “I hope you had your reasons.”

Jeno’s habit of over-biting his lip becomes apparent because they’re pink in the middle and red at the edges. He bobs his head slightly, shutting his eyes with confirmation, “I do. More than you know.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, “If that’s the case, apology accepted.”

When I look at Jeno, he represents a rhythmic soul, one that marches to beat his own drum, and one that’s capable of showing unconditional love. Ten’s correct- his hard exterior reveals the heart of an innocent boy, one that also happens to be covered in bloody scars. “Jeno! You’re hurt!”

Jeno touches his face lightly, the scratch on his cheek irritated, “Oh. I barely noticed these.”

Taking his hand, “Jeno, we need to clean those or they’ll get infected.”

Giving me a small smile, he drags me back through the door we came through. I don’t even register that we’re still holding hands, his large fingers around my palm. I silently pray that he doesn’t notice the heat that’s enclosed between us. After we enter, the room widens into a warehouse-like studio: paneled windows, an unmade bed, and a small kitchen that resides at the corner. The clouds look more organic through the glass window, the view of the factions illuminated with dim lights. Jeno’s rummaging through his kitchen cabinet to find a first aid kit as he sits down on the black sheets of his bed, pulling out q-tips and antiseptic cleaner. Wincing, Jeno shuts one eye as he smoothes the liquid onto the cut on his face.

I say, “Here, let me help.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but closes it when I take the q-tip from his hand anyway. I clean my fingers with a wipe before squirting some cooling gel onto the tip of my thumb. Jeno’s breath feels warm on my face, his eyes unmoving from mine. I try to ignore his intense staring, “Jeno, look away.”

He quirks an eyebrow up, “Why?”

“Because you’re making me nervous.”

Jeno’s laugh is full of mirth and sincerity, “Nothing to be nervous about.”

Jeno’s eyes shift to the ground, his lashes framing his eyelids. Jeno looks beautiful when he isn’t trying. When the dim lights illuminate the bridge of his nose to the high points of his cheek, his features harden and soften depending on the angle of his face. Though he has some scratches on his cheeks, some above his eyebrows, it doesn’t change him. He tuts, “Now look who’s staring.”

I quickly dart my eyes away, heat crawling up the expanse of my back in embarrassment, “I wasn’t! Where else are you injured?”

He touches a tender spot on his back with his shoulder blade, “One of those attackers had sharp nails, he got me right by my shoulder.”

“May I?” I gesture beside him on the bed, my mind flashing back to when my mother told me it was rude to sit on someone’s bed without asking.

He nods in affirmation, lifting the hem of his black sweater over his head. He stretches his back muscles, rolling his shoulders back to move them. I yelp a bit too loudly, “Why are you taking off your shirt??”

Chuckling, Jeno reaches a hand back to scratch at the hairs on his nape, “How are you going to treat it if you can’t reach it?”

“Oh, right.”

I see my hands visibly shake when I apply some more gel to the scratch that aligns in a downward line by his linear tattoo. When I press my fingers to the smooth skin of Jeno’s back, I feel myself letting out a breath I had been holding in. Jeno starts to hum an unfamiliar tune while he takes off his black gloves, tossing them to the floor. I have to say something, it’s way too quiet. “So,why this tattoo?”

He turns his face over his shoulder, “You wanna know?”

I hum, “Yeah, I do.”

Jeno goes on to explain it, his mother’s favorite flowers are cherry blossoms. He talks about how he was originally in Candor and how his mom would paste clippings of Japan from books on to her bedroom walls. His back is like a canvas for the faction insignias, all of them entwined with sakura branches that wrap around his ears and neck. “Basically, I love my mom so that explains the sakura blossoms. For the factions, I don’t believe I can just be one thing. I want to teach myself how to protect the people I love, to be kind, honest, and smart. I don’t want to be shoved into one mold, you know?”

Giving him a nod, “I get that. That’s how I thought- or, think. Now.”

In that moment, I remember Ten’s words: “Jeno has been struggling by himself.”

I pat his shoulder, “Jeno, could I ask you something?”

He turns around to me, his chest is bare and toned. Muscles are carved with definite lines that cross all over his body, “What is it, Y/N?”

“When I came in for a tattoo, I talked to Ten. He told me you struggled by yourself or currently struggling? What’s that mean?”

Jeno narrows his pointed, smoky-filled eyes at me, “Ten said that?”

I nod, “Don’t be mad at him, he’s just trying to help.”

Jeno makes a whirring hum from between his lips as he leans his hands back on the bed, “It’s hard to explain but, things aren’t always easy for me here.”

He pauses before continuing, “Ten knows something about me that most people don’t.”

Saying nothing, my heart beats with anticipation, I withhold myself from pressing him even further. On his own he says, “If I tell you, I need to know if I can trust you. I can’t afford to let this slip.”

Holding up my hand in pledged oath, I nod, “You have my word.”

“I’m divergent.”

My gasp sounds like my lungs have failed due to how loud it sounds. Truly, I didn’t expect those words to come out of Jeno’s mouth, “You’re divergent?”

Nodding solemnly, “Yes. My mother died because she was harboring me, my results got reported. Ten found us when he was on patrol with Taeyong, they took me in and forged the results so I could live.”

Connecting the dots, I point at him knowingly, “Is that why you tried to put on a front during dinner?”

Jeno sighs, “For whatever reason I thought the more mean I was, people couldn’t see through the mask.”

Instinctively, I place a firm hand on Jeno’s bouncing knee, “Jeno, you don’t have to act that way when you’re with me.”

Oh no. Why did I touch his knee like that? He must think I’m trying to come on to him or something, judging by the confused look on his face. I messed up. Jeno cockily smirks, launching himself until there is absolutely no space in between us. His face is only a couple centimeters away, a mischievous glint shines in his shadowy irises. He’s so close I can spot the faded mole at the flat of his cheek, some of his dark hairs fall to his brow. “Y/N, am I making you nervous right now?”

I gulp, my eyes widened like disks, “Very.”

Jeno flicks his eyes to my lips, his smile curling on one side, “Don’t be nervous.”

Like that, Jeno’s lips are on mine in a split second- a soft, slow sensation washing over us like time’s been stopped instantly. I feel myself relaxing as I straddle Jeno’s lap, pulling him closer by his shoulders. The way Jeno moves his head, forehead bumping against mine feels bone-chillingly pleasant as he continues to kiss me passionately. The dark-haired boy moves his rough hands through my hair as loops curl in between his fingers. When I pull back for air, my heart feels like it’s burning when I memorize the honey-golden sheen of Jeno’s skin, his parted lips swollen from our contact. Kneeling up on the bed, I rise to look down on Jeno, his strong arms grasping me by the waist as I lean down to his lips again. Jeno traces the curve of my jaw, his lips moving to the hollow of my neck- his lips sting against my skin. Shutting his eyes in pleasure, Jeno sighs into my shoulder, “Can you just stay here?”

I hug his chest even harder, “Won’t I get in trouble?”

Jeno laughs, “For being with me or for missing curfew?”

I laugh, “Both?”

Jeno kneads my area by my hip, massaging my sweater upwards, “Can I?”

I look back at him, raising my eyebrow, “Do you even deserve me?”

His smile reveals the highlights of his teeth, “I can try my best for you? Don’t worry about the others giving you a hard time, I can take care of it.”

My arms hang off Jeno’s shoulders, hands crossed by his neck, “Really, Jeno?”

Jeno gives me a fond nod, “Really.”

When I lower myself to Jeno’s level, he helps me lift the fabric of my top above my head. His eyes widen at the sight, he almost looks surprised. I panic, “What, what is it?”

He shakes his head in resignation, “When I first saw you, tumbling on the train, I thought you were the prettiest person in that dirt-covered train car.”

A blush glows on my cheeks, I feel my ear sting a bit- the feeling causing my heart to tremor. Instead, I result to leaning my forehead against Jeno’s, “You’re not bad at all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jeno smashes his lips against mine once again, harder than the last time as we lower ourselves into Jeno’s navy-blue pillows that sit in a squished pile by the headboard. I sweep a hair behind Jeno’s ear, peering up at his figure on top of me, “We should sleep, I was told that we have intense training tomorrow.”

Jeno’s eyes crinkle like moons, “Y/N, you really know how to kill the mood don’t you?”

I slap a hand against his pectoral muscle, “Jeno, let’s just go to bed!”

“Okay, okay.”

Jeno gets up to turn off the lights before tossing himself next to me on his bed. Pulling the comforter over our bodies, I feel his breath hit the back of my head as he hums in content. I turn my body to face him, his eyes already softly shut. His eyelashes are even more prominent, his hair is a bit more messy than it was in the last few hours. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I stare back at him for a little bit longer. In the dark, he flicks open one eye, “How do you expect me to go to bed if you keep kissing me?”

“Goodnight, Jeno.”

Pouting, Jeno huffs playfully, “Good night, Y/N.”

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betweengenesisfrogs · 5 years

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Homestuck is My Favorite Sprite Comic

Yes, you read that right.

Homestuck is my favorite sprite comic.

Those of you who remember the earlier days of the internet are probably looking at this post in disbelief right about now. Others of you might be scratching your heads, not knowing what I’m talking about.

But here’s my pitch: Homestuck is the culmination of an entire genre of internet art, and the tools that make it so powerful are the very tools that made that genre once so reviled.

Homestuck is the greatest and most successful sprite comic of all time.

And honestly, I’ve wanted to talk about that for ages, so let’s do it.

WHAT SPRITE COMICS WERE

Many of my readers are probably too young to remember the era of sprite comics. So: what were sprite comics?

Sprite comics were a genre of webcomics made entirely by taking pixel art from video games – especially character art, called “sprites,” but also backgrounds and other images—and placing them into panels to tell a story. They were near-ubiquitous on the internet in the early 2000s, emerging right as webcomics in general were seeking to establish themselves as an art form.

They were not, shall we say, known for their quality. The low bar to access meant that art skill was not an obstacle to starting one. The folks behind the huge swell of them tended to be young people, kids and early teenagers recreating the plots of their favorite video games with new OCs—not the most advanced writers or artists. They were the early 2000s’ quintessential example of ephemeral, childish art. Unfortunately, they look even worse today—blown-up pixels don’t hold up well when displayed on higher-resolution monitors.

Today, they’re mostly forgotten, remembered only as a weird, strange moment in the youth of the internet. Someone who evoked them today, such as a blogger who compared them to one of the most successful webcomics of all time, would be inviting good-natured teasing at the very least.

It would be unfair to dismiss them entirely, though. In this low-stakes environment, comics where the author could bring more skill—engaging writing, legitimately funny jokes, or especially, a real ability to work with pixel art—really stood out. (Unsurprisingly, these authors tended to skew a bit older.)

The obvious one to mention is Bob and George. Bob and George wasn’t the first sprite comic, but it was the most influential. Conceived initially as Mega Man-themed filler for a hand-drawn comic about superheroes, it quickly became a merging of the two concepts, with the original characters made into Mega Man-style sprites, full of running gags, humorous retellings of the Mega Man games, elaborate storylines about time travel, and robots eating ice cream. It was generally agreed, even among sprite comic haters, that Bob and George was a pretty good comic. Worth mentioning also are 8-Bit Theater, which turned the plot of the first Final Fantasy into a spectacular and hilarious farce, and of course Kid Radd, my second favorite sprite comic. (More on that later.)

But even if you weren’t looking for greatness—there was something just damn fun about them. The passion of sprite comic authors was clear, even if their ideas didn’t always cohere. To this day, I think the sprite comic scene has the same appeal pulp art does—it’s crude and rough, full of garbage to sift through, but every so often, something deeply sincere and bizarre shines through, and the culture of its authors is a fascinating object of study in itself.

Okay, full disclosure: I was one of the people who made a sprite comic. I’ve written about my experiences with that in more depth elsewhere, but yeah, I was on the inside of this scene, rather than a disinterested observer, and from the inside, maybe it’s a lot easier to see the appeal.

Still, let me make this claim: even with all their flaws, sprite comics were doing some incredibly interesting things, and Homestuck is heir to their legacy.

TAKE ME DOWN TO RECOLOR CITY

One of the problems people always had with sprite comics was the sprites themselves. They’re the most repetitive thing in the world. You just keep copying and pasting the same images over and over again, maybe with a few tweaks. That’s not really being an artist, is it? It’s so lazy. Re-drawing things from different angles keeps things dynamic, develops your skill, and makes your work better in general. Right?

I’m mostly in agreement. Certainly I think it’s fair to rag on the Control-Alt-Delete guy, along with other early bad webcomics, for copy-pasting their characters while dropping in new expressions and mass-producing tepid strips. And to be fair, digging through bad sprite comics often felt like an exercise in seeing the same slightly-edited recolors of Mega Man characters over and over again. You got really tired of that same body with its blobby feet and hands.

(It should be noted, though, that there were folks in the sprite comic scene who could pixel art the quills off a porcupine. I salute you, brave pixel art masters of 2006. I hope you all got into your chosen art school.)

All this said, I think the repetitive and simplistic nature of sprite comics was often their biggest strength.

THE POWER OF ABSTRACTION

In his classic work Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud makes an observation about cartooning that has stayed with me to this day.

McCloud notes that simple, abstract drawings, like faces that are only few lines and dots on a page, resonate with us more strongly than more detailed drawings. This is because our minds fill in what’s missing on the page. We ascribe human depth to simple gestures and expressions based on our own emotions and experiences – and this makes us feel closer to these characters as readers. Secretly, simple cartoons can be one of the most powerful forms of storytelling. If you want your readers to fall in love with your characters, draw them simply, and let them fill them in.

Video game sprites work very well in this regard. They have that same simplicity that cartoons do. In fact, I’d be willing to bet a huge part of the success of SNES-era RPGs was simple, almost childlike character sprites drawing people in. I think sprites did the same for sprite comics.

Here’s the weird thing: Bob and George worked. Despite four different characters being variations on the same friggin’ Mega Man sprite in different colors, they immediately began to seem like different people with distinct personalities. For me, George’s befuddled, helpless dismay immediately comes to mind whenever I picture his face, while with Mega Man himself it’s usually a wide-eyed, childlike glee. I would never confuse them. This, despite the fact that the only actual difference between their faces is that George is blonde. It’s pretty clear what happened. The personalities the author established for them through dialogue and storytelling shone through, and my brain did the rest.

Sprites, in short, were a canvas upon which the mind could project any story the author wanted to tell. Even the most minute differences in pixel art came to stand, in the best sprite comics, for wide divergences in personality and ideals, once the reader spent enough time with them to adapt to their style of representation.

Wait a minute, haven’t we seen this somewhere before? Character designs that focus on variations on a theme, with subtle differences that nonetheless render them instantly recognizable?

Oh, right.

Look at what greets us on the very first page of Homestuck. An absurdly simple cartoon boy, abstracted to a ridiculous degree—he doesn’t even have arms!—followed a whole bunch of characters that follow suit. Though many other representations of the characters emerge, these little figures never quite go away, do they? Why is that?

Simple: they’re very easy to manipulate. They’re modular—you can give John arms or not, depending on whether it’s useful. You can put him in a whole variety of poses and save them to a template. You can change out his facial expressions with copy and paste. You can give him a new haircut and call him Jake. It’s all very quick and easy.

Sprite comics proliferated because they were very easy to mass-produce. Andrew Hussie’s original conception of Homestuck was very similar: something he could put out very quickly and easily, where even the most elaborate ideas could rely on existing assets to be sped smoothly along. We all know the result: an incredible production machine, churning out unfathomable amounts of content from 2009-2012. I’d say it was a good call.

But it goes way deeper than that. The modular nature of sprites always suggested a kind of modularity to the sprite comic premise. George and Mega Man were different people, true, but also two variations on a theme. Was there something underlying them that they had in common? Perhaps their similarity says something like: We exist in a world which has a certain set of rules? One of my favorite conceits from Bob and George was that when characters visited the past, they were represented by NES-era Mega Man sprites, while in the present, they were SNES sprites, and in the future, the author used elaborate splicing to render them as 32-bit Mega Man 8 sprites or similar.

Suppose there was a skilled cartoonist thinking about his next big project, who wanted to tell a story centered around this kind of modularity, a narrative that was built out of iterative, swappable pieces by its very design. He might very well create a sprite comic named Homestuck.

Homestuck is a story about a game that creates a hyperflexible mythology for its players, where the villains, challenges, and setting change depending upon what players bring to the experience, yet which all share underlying goals and assumptions. What more perfect opportunity to create a modular story as well? Different groups of kids and trolls have motifs that get swapped around to produce new characters, whether that’s through ectobiology, the Scratch, or the eerie parallels between the kids and trolls’ sessions. And yet each character can be analyzed as an individual.

This is an incredible way to build a huge emotional investment from your readers. Not only does this kind of characterization invite analysis, the abstractions draw readers in to generate their own headcanons and interpretations. A deep commitment to pluralism is at the heart of Hussie’s character design. Then, too, it encourages readers to build their own new designs from these models. Kidswaps, bloodswaps, fantrolls—these have long been the heart of Homestuck’s fandom. And what are bloodswaps if not sprite recolors for a new generation? With the added bonus that now a change in color carries narrative weight, evoking new moods and identities for these characters in ways that early sprite comics could only dream of.

In Hussie’s hands, even the dreaded copy-and-paste takes on heroic depth of meaning. Even when Hussie moves away from sprites to his own loose art style, he continues to remix what we’ve previously see. Indeed, Hussie talks about how he would go out of his way to edit his own art into new images even when it would take more time than drawing something new. Why? Because he wanted to evoke that very feeling of having seen this before—the visual callback to go along with the many conceptual and verbal callbacks that echo throughout Homestuck. This is at the heart of what Doc Scratch (speaking for Hussie) called “circumstantial simultaneity:” we are invited to compare two moments or two characters, to see what they have in common, or how they contrast. Everything in Paradox Space is deeply linked with everything else. And Hussie establishes this in our minds using nothing less than the tool sprite comics were so deeply reviled for: the “lazy” repetition of an image.

(It’s fitting that some of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous images in Homestuck—dream bubble scenery and the like—are the result of Hussie taking things he’s made before and combining them into fantastic dreamscapes.)

But it all started with the hyperflexible, adaptable character images Hussie created at the very beginning of Homestuck.

And if you need more proof that Homestuck is a sprite comic, I think we need look no further than what Hussie, and the rest of the Homestuck community call these images.

We call them sprites.

THE FIRST GENRE-BENDERS

Was Andrew Hussie influenced by sprite comics in the development of Homestuck? It’s hard to say, but as a webcomic artist in the first decade of the 2000s, he was surely aware of them. It’s likely that he quickly realized that his quick, adaptable images served the same purposes as a sprite in a video game or a sprite comic, and chose to call them that.

One purpose I haven’t mentioned up until now: sprites lend themselves very well to animations. In fact, in their original context of video games, that’s exactly what they’re for: frames of art that can be used to show a character running, jumping, posing, moving across a screen. It’s not surprising, then, that sprite comic makers quickly saw the utility in that.

Homestuck was, in fact, not the first webcomic to make Flash animations part of its story. There were experiments with various gifs and such in other comics, but I think sprite comics were among the most successful at becoming the multi-media creations that would come to be known as hypercomics..

Take a look at this animation from Bob and George. It represents a climactic final confrontation against a long-standing villain, using special effects to make everything dramatic, but ultimately, like many a Homestuck animation, leads to kind of a pyscheout. The drama and the humor of the moment are clear, though. This relies in large part on the music—which is taken directly from the game Chrono Trigger. This makes total sense. Interestingly, it also contains voice acting, which is something Homestuck never tried—probably because it would run contrary to its ideals of pluralism. What I find fascinating is that in sprite comics, animations like these served a very similar purpose to Homestuck’s big flashes: elevating a big moment into something larger-than-life. Another good example is this sequence from Crash and Bass. Seriously, it seems like every sprite comic maker wanted to try their hand at Flash animation.

(By the way, it’s a lot harder than it looks!! I envy Hussie his vectorized sprites. Pixel art is a PAIN to work with in the already buggy program that is Flash.)

The result: because of the sprites themselves, sprite comics were among the first works to play around with the border between comics and other media in the way that would come to be thought of as quintessentially Homestuck.

What it also meant was that another genre emerged in parallel with sprite comics: the sprite animation. Frequently these would retell the story of a particular game, offer a spectacular animated battle sequence, parody the source material, or all three. Great examples include this animation for Mega Man Zero, and this frankly preposterous crossover battle sequence. Chris Niosi’s TOME also found its earliest roots as an animation series of this kind. You also found plenty of sprite-based flash games, in which players could manipulate game characters in a way that was totally outside the context of the original works.

The website the vast majority of these games and animations were hosted on?

Newgrounds, best known to Homestuck fans as the website Hussie crashed in 2011 while trying to upload Cascade.

What’s less talked about is that Hussie was friends, or at least on conversational terms with, the owner of the site, hence the idea to host his huge animation there in the first place, and other flashes, like the first Alterniabound, were initially hosted there as well.

It’s hard to believe that Hussie wasn’t at least a little familiar with the Newgrounds scene. I suspect that he largely conceived of Homestuck as part of the world of “Flash animation—” which in 2009 meant the wide variety of things that were hosted on Newgrounds, including sprite animations.

The freedom and fluidity sprite comics had to change into games and animations and back into comics again was one of their most fascinating traits. Homestuck’s commitment to media-bending needs, at this point, no introduction. But what’s less known is that sprite comics were exploring that territory first—that Homestuck, in short, is the kind of thing they wanted to grow up to be.

PUT ME IN THE GAME

I would be a fool not to mention another big thing Homestuck and sprite comics have in common: a character who is literally the author in cartoon form, running around doing goofy things and messing with the story. This was an incredibly common cliché in sprite comics, no doubt because of Bob and George, who did it early on and never looked back. You might have noticed that the animation I linked above concerns a showdown between Bob and George’s author, David Anez—depicted, delightfully, as another Mega Man recolor—and a mysterious alternate author named Helmut—who is like Mega Man plus Sepiroth I think? It’s all very strange. I could ramble for hours about the relationship between Hussie and the alt-author villains of Homestuck and what it all means, but I’m not sure I can nail anything down with certainty for these two. Maybe Bob and George was never quite that metaphysical.

But yes, bringing the author into the story in some form was already a cliché by the time Homestuck started up. Indeed, I think that’s why Hussie’s character refers to it as “a bad idea” to break the fourth wall—he’s recognizing that people will have seen this before, and are already tired of this sort of shit. And then he goes and does it anyway and makes it somehow brilliant, because he’s Andrew Hussie.

Homestuck breathes life into the cliché by taking it in a metaphysical/metafictional direction. I don’t think that was really the motivation for most sprite comic authors, though. Let’s see if we can dig a little deeper.

I think the cliché kept happening because sprite comic authors were writing about a subject that very closely concerned themselves: video games. I’m only kind of joking. The thing about video games is that even though they’re made for everyone, playing through one yourself feels like an intensely personal experience. You develop an emotional relationship to a world, to its characters, that feels distinctly your own. Now, suddenly, thanks to the magic of sprites, you have an opportunity to tell stories about that world for others to read. Of course you’re going to want to put yourself in the story in some form.

When it wasn’t author characters in sprite comics, it was OCs. You know Dr. Wily? Well here’s my own original villain, Dr. Vindictus. You know Mega Man? Here’s my new character, Super Cool Man. He hangs out with Mega Man and they beat the bad guys together. Stuff like that. Most sprite comics retold the story of a game, or multiple games in a big crossover format, with original elements added in. There was quite a lot of “Link and Sonic and Mega Man are all friends with my OC and they hang out at his house.”

What’s interesting, though, is that because these sprite comics were very aware that they were about video games, this was where they sometimes got very meta. It started with humorous observation—hey, isn’t it funny that Link goes around breaking into people’s houses and smashing their pots? But sometimes, it grew into more serious commentary. Is Mega Man trapped in a never-ending cycle, doomed to fight the same fight against the same mad scientist until the end of time? Is it worth it, being a video game hero?

Enter Homestuck. What I’ve been dancing around this whole time is:

Homestuck is a sprite comic…because Homestuck is a video game.

Or more specifically, Homestuck’s a comic about a video game called SBURB, where the lines between the game and the comic about the game blur as characters wrestle with the narratives around them, both those encoded into the game and those encoded into our expectations.

Homestuck presents the fantasy of many a sprite comic maker: I get to go on heroic quests, I get to change the world and become a god. I get to be part of the video game. And then it asks the same question certain sprite comics were beginning to ask:

Is it worth it, to be that hero?

I want to tell you about my second favorite sprite comic, a comic called Kid Radd.

Kid Radd distinguished itself from other sprite comics of the time by being a completely original production. Its sprites looked like they could be from a variety of NES and SNES-era video games, but they were all done from scratch, and the games they purported to represent were all fictional. Kid Radd used animations with original music, and sometimes interactive, clickable games, to tell its story. It also used all sorts of neat programming tricks to make it load faster on the internet of the early 2000s, which was great—unfortunately, these same techniques made it break as web technology evolved, something Homestuck fans in 2019 can definitely relate to. The good news is, fans have maintained a dedicated and reformatted archive where the comics can still be seen and downloaded.

Kid Radd’s premise is that video game characters themselves are conscious and alive—more specifically, their sprites. Sprites developed consciousness as human beings projected personality and identity onto them, remaining aware of their status as video game constructs while also seeking to be something more. The story follows the titular Kid Radd, at first in the context of his own game, commenting on the choices the player controlling him. He must endure every death, every strange decision along the way to save his girlfriend Sheena. Then the story expands into a larger context as Radd, Sheena, and many other video game characters are released onto the internet as data. They try to find their own identities and build a society for themselves, but struggle with the tendency toward violence that games have programmed into them. The story culminates in an honestly moving moment where Radd confronts the all-powerful creators of their reality—human beings.

It’s a very good comic.

The first sprite comic authors wanted to fuse real life with video games. Later sprite comic authors decided to ask: what would that really mean? Would it be painful? Would you suffer? Would you find a way to make your life meaningful all the same? Despite the limitations of sprite comics, these ideas had incredible potential, and in works like Kid Radd, they flourished.

Homestuck is heir to that legacy.

It takes the questions Kid Radd was asking, and asks them in new ways. It tries to understand, on an even deeper level, how the rules of video games shape our own minds and give us ways to understand ourselves.

At its heart, Homestuck is a sprite comic, and it might just be the greatest of them all.

EPILOGUE

I’ve seen a lot of good discussion recently on how Homestuck preserves a certain era of the internet like a time capsule: its culture, its technology, its assumptions, its memes.

I think sprite comics, too, are part of the culture that created Homestuck. Do I think Hussie spent the early 2000s recoloring Mega Man sprites? No, probably not. But what I do know is that sprite comics were part of his world. The first webcomic cartoonists came of age alongside an odd companion, the weird, overly sincere, dorky little sibling that was sprite comics. Like them or hate them, you couldn’t escape them. They were there.

And maybe a certain cartoonist saw a kind of potential in them, in the same way he summoned Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff from the depths of bad gamer culture.

Or maybe he just knew, as some sprite comic authors did, that the time was right for their kind of story.

On a personal level—Homestuck came along right when I needed it.

Around 2009, the bubble that was sprite comics finally burst. People were getting tired of them, or growing out of them, and blown-up sprites no longer looked so good on modern monitors.

I was more than a little heartbroken. I’d enjoyed Bob and George, read my fill of Mega Man generica, and fallen utterly in love with Kid Radd. I’d been working on my own sprite comic for a long time out of a sense that there was huge potential in them that we were only scratching the surface of. I’d dreamed of maybe someday doing something as amazing as the best of them did. But I was watching that world disappear. I had to admit to myself that my work wasn’t going to continue to find an audience. That I could live with. But it was painful to think that the potential I sensed, the feats of storytelling I wanted to see in the world, would never be realized.

And then, in the fall of 2010, a friend linked me to a comic that broke all the rules, that mixed animation, games, music, images and chatlogs. A comic that crafted its own sprites, just as Kid Radd did, and remixed its images into an ever-expanding web of associations and meanings. A comic that took on the idea of living inside a video game with relish and turned it into a gorgeous meditation on escaping the ideas and systems that control us.

That this comic would exist, let alone that it would succeed. That it would become one of the most popular creations of all time, that it would surpass other webcomics and break out into anime conventions and the real world, that it would become such a cultural juggernaut, to the point where it’s impossible to imagine an internet without Homestuck—

I can’t even put into words how happy that makes me. It’s the reason I’m still writing essays about Homestuck nearly eight years after I found it.

And it’s why Homestuck will always be my favorite sprite comic.

-Ari

[Notes: The image of the kids came from the ever-useful MSPA Wiki—please support and aid in their efforts to provide a good source of info about Homestuck! They need more support these days than ever.

For more on Homestuck’s place as a continuation of the zeitgeist of early 2000s experimental webcomics, this article by Sam Keeper at Storming the Ivory Tower is excellent and insightful.

Thanks for reading, y’all.]

#homestuck analysis #homestuck #homestuck's influences #hypercomics #understanding homestuck #sprite comics #internet culture

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the-lupine-sojourner · 5 years

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Takara’s Hero Academia Season 2 Episode 4 [Eijiro Kirishima/OC] [Female!Aizawa/Hizashi]

Okay, guys! Here we go! The rest of the obstacle course! I’m sorry about not being able to finish episode 2 last time, but hopefully, this will make up for it.

Now, before we get to the story, I want to give a huge shoutout to @elite-guard-hardygal for this chapter because they’re letting me use their OCs, Hiyoko and Ryuji Teichida! They are AMAZING characters and I am so thrilled that Hardygal trusts me with them! ^.^ Hope you like this, my friend!

I’m also tagging @souskena , @dailyojiromashirao , and @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 . I hope you all like this chapter, too!

The last thing is the Masterlist for This Story.

Anyway, let's get going!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(I couldn’t find a better gif. Sorry!)

I didn’t even know what had happened till I looked where Eijiro and the other guy were standing, only to see a pile of frozen robot parts.

“Eijiro!” I scream. Was he under there?! Had he been crushed!? “Eijiro, hang on!” I am running forward before I can think, not knowing what to do, but desperately hoping Eijiro was okay.

I ran to the collapsed robot, uncaring and unhearing of anything around me. Part of me knew that, with Eijiro’s Quirk, it was more than likely that he’d be okay, but...but what if he hadn’t activated it in time?! What if he was stabbed by a chunk of the robot?!

Thousands of possibilities ran through my head, but as I ran forward, I could feel the vibrations of two people bulldozing their way through the robot, climbing higher. I blink. Oh...shit. I completely forgot that other guy! Was he the one who pushed me out of the way? I felt both boys climbing, but one was faster, and soon enough rumbling and crunching metal was heard, as well as breaking ice.

Suddenly, in a last-ditch effort, Eijiro’s voice was heard screaming above the murmuring crowd. “I’m aalliivvee!” He screams, thrusting up through the last layer of metal with his arms up and a pissed expression on his face. The neck of his PE uniform was tattered from using his Quirk to protect his head, and I clambered up the robot, relieved that he was okay.

“Kirishima from Class 1-A! What a hardcore debut for this rookie!” Dad announces happily just as I come to the top of the robot. Uncaring of the cameras and people watching, I hug him. “Hey, you okay?” He mumbles, embarrassed. I pull back, smiling at him.

“Yup. I was just shocked when the robot fell on you. I wanted to help you out, but couldn’t move the robot with my Earth Quirk, and there’s no water I can control, sorry.” He smirks, moving to more solid footing.

“No sweat. I saw it falling and activated my Quirk just in time. Thanks for wanting to help, though.” I nod. Dad gives a quick explanation of Eijiro’s Quirk, calling it an ‘ultimate shield or a devastating weapon’. I like that line a lot and smile at Eijiro.

“No problem. Anytime.” It had become a kind of promise to each other, ‘anytime’. We were assuring each other that we would always do our best to help each other, no matter what.

Eijiro then growls and glares down the path where Todoroki had vanished. “I can’t believe Todoroki pulled something like that. Geez, anyone but me would have been killed.” He then turns to me and I swear his cheeks are a little pink. “I thought you’d gotten crushed, too, actually, so I was trying to get out to find you as quick as I could.” I shake my head, focusing on making as much of the ice as I can melt as I had water to work with. He...he was that concerned about me? No! Focus!

“I was pushed out of the way by- -” I then start to feel the rumbling of the other person about to emerge and turn just as the silver-haired guy comes to the surface.

“Class 1-A really is full of jerks!” He growls as he smashes through the top of the robot. “I’ll smash that ice guy when I get my hands on him!” I sigh, noting that now his entire body was silver, glinting like he was a living statue or something.

“--him.” I finish, pointing him out. I walk over. “Hey!” I call. “Glad you’re okay...and thanks for pushing me out of the way.” He scoffs.

“That’s what a hero does, right? Heroes save people, no matter what they think of them.” I nod, not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not, then listen as Dad announces this guy’s name.

“Tetsutetsu from Class 1-B was also stuck underneath! What’re the odds?!” I look back at Tetsutetsu.

“Takara.” He nods, then Dad begins the brief explanation of Tetsutetsu’s Quirk; it makes him able to turn his skin into steel. It was pretty close to Eijiro’s Quirk, actually. In fact, Dad used the ‘ultimate shield or devastating weapon’ line again, which to Eijiro’s chagrin.

“Our Quirks are basically the same!” He groans. “How’m I supposed to stand out now?!” I almost stop moving. Huh...I wonder where that came from. Does he seriously think he’ll have trouble standing out? No way! He’ll do just fine, I’m sure!

“You damn copycat!” Tetsutetsu growls. I roll my eyes.

“Calm down, you two. Just be yourself, Eijiro! You’ll be great!” I reply, smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up. He doesn’t reply, still looking upset. Tetsutetsu then nudges me.

“You’re the girl that had the boot on, right? Glad you toughened up for this competition.” Tetsutetsu replies. I nod, continuing to jog over the top of the robot, picking up as much water as I could without using too much blood sugar.

“Yeah, me, too! Recovery Girl helped a lot, and training practically day and night got me back on track for the Festival.” I explain as I slide down the side.

“Good! So it’ll at least be a fair fight before I beat you!” I laugh.

“We’ll see how this goes, Tetsutetsu.” Landing on the ground, I continue running, searching ahead with vibrations to see what the next obstacle is, but then have to stop as several loud booms were heard and Dad announces that Katsuki is using explosions to rocket over the robots. “Clev-ah!” He praises, and something about the way Dad says it makes me laugh. We continue running, and I can’t really tell anything from the vibrations, but I keep trying periodically. The vibration trick took hardly any blood sugar, so as long as I don’t do it continuously, and use my other abilities well, I should be fine. Plus, I now had water, so I had a better chance.

“Class 1-A has learned not to hesitate.” Mom notes, “They’ve seen what the real world is like. They’ve felt the fear, and pain in some cases, of fighting villains. And yet, they fight on, trying to overcome that fear.” I smile at Mom’s praise. It was accurate, and I couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride and happiness as I ran, despite almost being singled out in an announcement again. It still wasn’t something I was used to, though I suppose after today, I’ll be a lot more recognizable, so I have to get used to the spotlight. “They’ve grown, all of them, and they know they have to act quickly if they want to stay alive.” In the distance, I hear more explosions and feel the powerful vibrations of robots falling. I feel a large gathering of students around the curve, and begin to slow down, wondering what they were stopping for.

“For those of you who thought the first obstacle was easy,” Dad snarks, “let’s see how you feel about the second one!” I come up around the bend with Tetsutetsu and Eijiro to see (and feel) a huge canyon with several platforms with thick wire ‘bridges’ left for us to get across.

“Geez, dad!” I groan. “You weren’t joking about this being harder than robots!” How was I supposed to get across?! There’s still no water to add to the amount I have on me, and I doubt just holding on to the wire and scooting across is a good idea. But I can’t see better options right now...so I look around and notice that the wire I’m standing in front of is at a small decline toward the platform at the end of the wire. I grin. Perfect. I grab Eijiro’s arm. “I’ve got an idea!” I whisper. If people heard, they might try to take advantage of my plan. It wouldn’t take a whole lot to power, and it was the only thing I could think of at the moment. I make the platform, being sure to have the pole running through it, and take a breath, hoping this wouldn’t end badly. I motion Eijiro on it. “C’mon, before anyone else sees and tries to hop on,” I whisper. He blinks.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just hang on,” I reply, stepping on and Eijiro gets on. It’s harder than I thought to keep it up, but I grit my teeth and push off, getting a bit of speed and having to hang on to Eijiro’s waist. I blush but don’t say anything, focusing on the approaching platform. I had to disengage the platform at the right time or the landing would hurt. I leap off and release the platform, returning the water to floating by my side and panting.

“You okay?” Eijiro asks and there is definitely a blush to his cheeks. I nod, moving to the other side of the platform.

“Yeah, c’mon. The quicker we get across, the better.” He nods.

“Right.” I move to the next wire and bite my lip. I was extremely lucky; it was also had just enough decline to do the same trick, but I couldn’t do it too many more times. I still had a decent amount of stamina and blood sugar left, but I couldn’t keep pushing myself like this.

As I stand there catching my breath, I see a girl with short blonde hair practically crawling along the wire, her fingertips glowing as she moved, these solar-panel type things on her back. Intrigued, I watch as she leaps out, the light from her fingertips now also on her feet, seeming to provide her enough grip to climb the last little bit onto the platform.

“You know, watching these kiddoes reminds me of our Festival, honey.” Dad notes, an almost wistful tone to his voice. I shake myself. This wasn’t the time to stop and look at different Quirks. Shortly after the girl, a boy with hair similar to Hitoshi’s appears, with tired eyes and bough physique, climbs from the wire onto the platform. I can’t tell what his Quirk is, but he seems to know the girl, who doesn’t look like she wants to hang around and wait for him.

“In some ways, yes, but we did a points-based Scavenger Hunt as our first game in the Festival.” Mom replies, bringing me back to the task at hand as I move to the next wire.

“It also reminds me that, in the world of heroes, it can hard to get noticed without a flashy Quirk, eh Shota?” I can almost see Mom grit her teeth in irritation at the tease. Dad had nearly won against Mom, he’d told me. Then Mom was able to win by forcing herself to use her Quirk on him to suddenly shut him up and gain an advantage over him, tying him up quickly and winning their match. Dad described the moment as the moment he knew he wanted to hang around Mom a lot more. He said there was something so intriguing about her to him from then on.

All that to say, the difference in the flashiness of their Quirks was a tease Dad used against her sometimes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mom growls.

“Wasn’t talking about anything.” Dad is quick to backtrack. “Love you, Shota.”

“Uh-huh.” I smile and get the platform ready again.

“We’re doing that again?” Eijiro asks. I nod.

“Yeah. This wire’s also on a decline, so let’s go.” I urge. He hesitates, biting his lip before he nods and motions me on. Something’s off...but I can’t tell what...

“I’ll push off this time.” He mumbles. I nod and get on. Eijiro shoves off and I can’t help blushing as his arms slip around my waist for balance. I have to focus on keeping the platform stable, but his arms are so strong, it’s a little distracting. If I’d focused more on the way he held me, though, I’d have noticed that he seemed sad and upset, barely clinging to me, but I was too caught up in the fact that his arms were around my waist to actually process anything else, and we reach the next platform too quickly for me to get over the sensation and think straight. People were catching up, so we had to keep moving. This next wire had an incline, so we had to climb, not ride. I grit my teeth. I’d use the water to make footholds.

“Guess we can’t ride on this wire.” Eijiro groans, looking anywhere but me. I shake my head.

“Nope. I’ll make footholds, so stay close.” I reply and start moving. Eijiro frowns.

“No. You go ahead. I’ll climb up on my own.” I frown back at him.

“Eijiro, what- -”

“Just go!” He snaps. I bite my lip. I wanted to find out what was bugging him, but I guess there’s no time right now. “You gotta focus on yourself, okay?” I reluctantly turn around and begin climbing. I don’t make much progress. I have a lot whirling through my head right now. What was that about?! Did I piss him off somehow? Eijiro stays quiet, making sure he doesn’t use my footholds and I don’t keep them long enough for him to try. He took my help the wrong way and I now had to repair this rift in our friendship. I already missed our camaraderie. We’ve gotten so close since the entrance exam, and yet...I still didn’t actually know a lot about his life before UA, what’s driving him. I guess we’ve never gotten too personal in our talks.

I find myself wanting to know more, wanting to understand him better. I wanna know how to tell him I didn’t mean to make him feel bad. Soon enough, we’re on the track again and still Eijiro doesn’t talk to me. I must have really offended him somehow. “Eijiro, wait!” I call as he pulls ahead. “Please, talk to me!” He slows a little, but neither of us stops completely.

“Takara, we have to focus.” He says, voice solemn and serious. I flinch.

“Look, I’m sorry. Since I was little, I’ve always been trying to help out any and everyone I can. I’m sorry if I offended you or something. It’s just an instinct I have. I really wasn’t trying to degrade you or anything.” He sighs.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s just--” The blonde-haired girl with glowing fingertips races by.

“Argue later! Focus on this race, idiots!” Eijiro and I exchange glances and blink in surprise. However, she was right. We take off sprinting again, and in a few minutes, I can see the next obstacle ahead.

“Whoa! A minefield!? Are you kidding me!?” I exclaim. Eijiro bites his lip. I turn to him, trying to repair whatever happened back in the canyon. Whatever happened, it was apparent that he didn’t want me to help him, so... “Eijiro, how about we just do our best with this on our own. I do have my vibration trick if I need it and you have your Hardening. Meet you on the other side, okay?” He blinks, then nods.

“Okay, sounds good, Takara.” I take off and Eijiro’s not far behind me. Together, we race across the field, dodging people and mines alike. I try the vibration trick and happen to do it right when someone steps on a mine. I reel backward at the intensity of the vibrations. “Whoa, you okay?!” Eijiro asks, steadying me.

“Yeah. Didn’t think that through. The vibrations when someone steps on a mine are unreal.” I grumble.

“If you’re good, let’s keep going.” I nod and begin running. I didn’t wanna push it, and I had to focus on getting through this course.

“Right!” All of a sudden, when we were about halfway through the field, there’s a huge explosion and out of it comes Izuku, flying on a piece of a robot, zooming across the field like a comet, face hardened in determination. “Whoa, Izuku!” I breathe in shock, slowing but not stopping. That kid is something else… “Damn…” I hardly hear Dad talking, honestly, but that’s mainly due to the ringing in my ears from that explosion, and partly because I was so thunderstruck that Izuku would do something like that.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. He’s a wicked talented strategist, able to concoct strategies with little to no apparent effort. Obviously, he’d stockpiled mines carefully, using the increased explosion to send him flying toward the finish line. I smirk proudly. He was amazing! Now if he can just get ahead and stay ahead of Todoroki, he’ll win the first round!

I then shake myself and move faster. I had to get going or I’d lose!

Reaching the other side, I notice Tetsutetsu coming in right behind Eijiro and all three of us sprint for the finish line, when all of a sudden Hanta came in front of me. I tried pushing harder, but he passed the line just ahead of me. I look beside me as I pass, and see Eijiro stepping over the line just before I did. I slow down to a walk, panting heavily. Oh, geez! It was a good thing I did those jogs, but holy shit that was hard!

“Takara Yamada of Class 1-A finishes followed closely by her classmate Eijiro Kirishima! Go, Takara, go!” I blush a little at Dad and try to catch my breath. I need food...I double over, still panting. “Takara?” Eijiro asks between his own pants. “Can we talk?” I blink, for some reason getting flustered.

“Y-yeah…” We walk to a more private corner. He shyly looks away, shuffling his feet. “Eijiro, I’m sorry.” I begin. I didn’t honestly know what I was apologizing for, but I knew I’d done something wrong, and I wanted to initiate this conversation with an apology. He finally looks at me. “No, don’t apologize. You didn’t know, but...it’s just...it’s hard enough for me to stand out as is, and...and you’re so selfless and awesome and you have such a flashy, amazing Quirk- -two of them, actually- -and...well, I don’t stand a chance in this competition if people keep holding my hand. I need to somehow make whatever tiny mark I can.” I blink, then go in for a tight hug. I feel myself tearing up. This poor boy!

“Eijiro, you’re amazing! Don’t you dare throw yourself down like that! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s an instinct I have, trying to help everyone I can. I promise that’s all it was. I just…” I bite my lip. I’d been about to say ‘love you so much’. What the hell?! I...I...he...he and I are just friends...right? “I just wanted to help.” I finish instead, praying my voice wasn’t as frazzled as my thoughts were.

The memories flash through my head of all the times I have been so thankful to have him by my side, especially in the USJ attack. He selflessly stayed with me, carrying me to safety and staying with me for a while at the hospital, and then during my recovery. It was...it was something no one else had done for me except Mom and Dad, and I guess at some point during all that time...I started developing a crush on him without even realizing...but he wouldn’t feel the same way, I don’t think, so I have to keep it to myself until I get to know him more and can either get over my crush or be assured he feels the same way.

Eijiro pulls me closer and tightens his arms around me almost protectively. “Takara, I...you’re amazing and I am so glad to have you as a friend. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just being stupid. Are...are we good?” I chuckle and nod, cheeks warm in a blush.

“Don’t call yourself stupid again and yeah, we’re good.” I tighten my arms automatically, blushing madly at his words and care. I then reluctantly let him go and motion toward the crowd. “Shall we?” He nods and I swear there’s a blush on his cheeks, too. Oba Nemuri cracks her whip and I force myself to keep my eyes off Eijiro, standing beside me. Despite my revelation, we were still only friends. I couldn’t lose my cool so easily.

To further distract myself, I look up and see Izuku’s name in the rankings as number 1! That’s awesome!

“The first game for the first years is finally over.” Oba announces, “And what a game it was! Now, let’s take a quick look at the standings, shall we?” As the hologram appears, I gulp and look at our rankings. I scan for my name, and sure enough, there it is, right on top of Eijiro! Turns out, we ranked ninth! We tied! Hanta was right above us, and Tetsutetsu was right below us. I smile. Okay, this was great! I did better than I thought! Awesome! “Only the top 42 will advance to the next round, but don’t be too let down if you didn’t make the cut. We’ve prepared other opportunities for you to shine.” Oba licks her lips. I frown. Was that really necessary? “Now, the real fun is about to begin; the chance to fully move into the limelight!” I gulp. Crud! What was next?! “Give it your best!” Another crack of the whip and the screen was again that spinning lottery-esque thing. I feel my stomach squirm into knots the longer this goes on. “Let’s see what we have in store for you next!” She cheers. I feel Eijiro brush my hand and see him smiling encouragingly at me. I smile back, trying to swallow my anxiety. The first game was so tough! How was I supposed to keep advancing when they throw- -no! I can only do my best! It doesn’t matter what the games are as long as I have fun and give it my all, right?! “Will your wildest fantasies come to life?” Oba presses as the spinning title continues. I flush. What?! “What could it be? The waiting is torture!” She’s practically whining now, and I am more uncomfortable. “Prepare yourselves...” Thank God! We’d finally find out what’s next! “for this!” The title stops spinning, and I cringe. Shit! A cavalry battle?! I’ve hardly ever played that game!

“I’m terrible at those…” Denki grumbles beside me.

“And I’ve only played in, like, two, maybe...and I was a lot younger. Shit!” Tsu tilts her head a little.

“Plus, it’s not an individual event. I wonder how they’ll split us up?”

“Allow me to explain.” Midnight continues, and the screen shows a picture of Dad, Toshin-Oji, 13, and Snipe (though he was hidden in the background mostly), all forming a cavalry battle team with Toshin-Oji as the rider up top. “The participants will form teams of two to four people each as they see fit. In theory, it’s basically the same as a regular playground game, but there is one difference.” I raise a brow. Oh, man… “Each player has been assigned a point value based on their results from the obstacle course.”

“So that means each team will have a different point value, based on which students are on it.” Ochaco muses. I nod.

“Uh-huh!” Mina concurs, then Oba gets irritated, cracking her whip.

“Maybe you should shut up and let me explain things to you!” She growls. Then calms pretty quickly. “Now then, the point values go up by increments of five, starting from the bottom. For example, 42nd place is worth five points, and 41st is worth ten. And, the point value assigned to the first place contestant is...ten million!” I blink. Holy shit! Izuku’s gonna have a hard time, even just picking a team! Everyone will be after him! Guess that’s what it means to be first in the world of pro heroes; everyone’s after you, jealous of your standing and hungry for fame and recognition. “That’s right…” Midnight continues, “it’s survival of the fittest with a chance for those at the bottom to overthrow the top! First years, these are the rules you’ll abide by! The game itself will last fifteen minutes, individual point values will be added together to reach your team total. Everyone will know how much you’re worth thanks to your headbands. Swipe as many headbands as you can to raise your team’s score.” The screen showed that the headbands were secured with velcro so they’d be easily taken. “Stolen headbands must be worn from the neck up, so the more you steal, the harder it will be to manage them. And another thing; even if your headband is stolen or your team falls down, you can keep playing till time’s up!”

“It’s anyone’s game, then.” Momo murmurs, holding her chin in thought.

“Yeah, and since there are forty-two contestants, there’ll be ten or twelve teams fighting on the field the entire time,” Rikido adds. I nod.

“Yeah, and you have to consider Quirks and how you work well with. It’s really a simulation of agency team-ups and the competition of being pros at the same time.” Denki groans.

“Why does this have to be so hard!?” He groans.

“So if you lose your headband at the beginning, you have more time to make up a plan.” Mina muses. Tsu, next to her, frowns.

“I don’t know, Mina. Maybe we should wait and see how the teams turn out before we start strategizing.” She replies.

“This is going to be rough.” Midnight warns, “You may use your Quirks as much as you like! But. There are still rules: make a team fall on purpose, I’ll slap you with a red card; you’ll be disqualified!” A timer shows up for fifteen minutes. “Now, you’ve got fifteen minutes to build your team! I recommend you get started!” I bite my lip. Eijiro and I each had 165 points since we tied. Unfortunately, hardly anyone beyond our class really knew us and how our Quirks work, so unless I can somehow convince people to team up with me, I’ll have to see who wants me on their team. I should be a horse because my Earth Quirk would make sure that my team wouldn’t be surprised. That and my Water Quirk could defend and attack, so maybe I won’t have trouble getting on or forming my own team.

Eijiro grabs my arm. “C’mon! Let’s go find a team!” I grin.

“Yeah!” He starts leading me to Todoroki, but Shoto’s already talking to Momo, Denki, and Tenya. “Aw, man. Trust Shoto have been already thought up who he wanted and recruited them before anyone else could.” I groan. Eijiro sighs.

“I know, right?! Man, that sucks. Do you wanna form our own team or try for someone else’s team?” I frown.

“Not sure...I’d like to be on the same team as you, but...on the other hand, you yourself said I gotta ‘focus on yourself’, right? Maybe we should just see how things turn out?” I was unsure around him now, what with his strange reaction during the obstacle race, and my revelation. I wasn’t sure how to handle that train of thought, so I set it aside for now. Eijiro’s hand stays on my arm, and he goes over toward Bakugo.

“Screw that! Let’s keep trying together, but if we can’t get on the same team, fine!” I blush. He was suddenly wanting to stay with me? He’d said we needed to focus more on ourselves, but now he was switching tactics? What was going through his head?! Regardless, it was sweet he was trying to make sure we could get on the same team. I suddenly realize where he’s leading us and almost scoff. Katsuki wouldn’t want me on his team. I’m ‘the teachers’ brat’ to him. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try...maybe?

Unfortunately, a lot of our class have the same idea. Now that Shoto’s picked his team, they wanted to team up with the next best option. I wonder if he’ll pick anyone…

“Wait, remind me your Quirks are again?! And your names!” Katsuki snaps, looking hella confused. I feel my eye twitch in irritation as we approach. Good God Katsuki is self-centered! He can’t remember anyone’s names or Quirks! Eijiro waves to get Katsuki’s attention.

“Bakugo! Takara and I were gonna try Todoroki, but he already picked a group! You should team up with us!” Katsuki just scoffs.

“Oh, great. Shitty Hair and the Teachers’ Brat.” He grumbles. My eye twitch returns.

“Loose Cannon.” I retort, sticking my tongue at him. Eijiro seems irritated, too, as Katsuki glares at me.

“My name is Kirishima! You know Takara...and my hair’s not that different from yours!” Eijiro barks, gesturing between their hair to prove his point. He then remembers that we were trying to team up with Katsuki. “C’mon, man. You wanna be the rider, right? Takara’s earth Quirk can make sure no one gets the drop on us, and you need a front rider who won’t be hurt by your blasts.” He Hardens his forearm and fist. “That’d be me.” He says, a tad unnecessarily. Katuski scoffs.

“I won’t team up with that damn brat; she’d not what I’m looking for, but I do need someone with guts.” I try not to take that personally and roll my eyes. I saw this coming. I subtly move back a little. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that blonde girl and that dark purple haired boy. They seem alone, wandering from group to group looking for stragglers. Perfect! I wanted to talk to them! They seem like a solid pair!

“Hey, Eijiro?” He turns.

“Yeah?” I hold out my hand.

“No hard feeling, no matter what, right?” He nods.

“Yeah. Sorry he’s being stubborn.” I shrug as we shake hands.

“No sweat. I see a few people I’m gonna try to recruit. See you in the final game!” I wave as I walk off. I may like him as more than a friend, but I can’t just let him consume my thoughts and distract me.

“You know, you’re really missing out with Takara, but...my Quirk was made for this!” I blush a little at the way Eijiro talked about me and force myself to keep walking. The duo I wanted to talk to were just ahead. I notice they’re talking to a girl that reminds me a lot of Asami if she were younger. Perfect! Four’s the limit!

“Pardon me, but can I join?” I ask, smiling at the three of them. “I don’t have a team yet and there’s only, like, ten minutes left.” The blonde girl turns to me.

“Oh, wait. You’re the girl that stopped to talk to that boy, right? If you’re gonna do that crap again, we don’t need you.” I feel a sting of hurt at that, but brush it off.

“That was...complicated, but he’s on a different team, so I won’t be distracted this time.”

“Hiyoko-nee, c’mon. She wants to join and we’d have four people.” The purple-haired boy adds, turning to me and extending a hand.

“I’m Ryuji Teichida, and this is my older sister, Hiyoko.” The wolf girl extends a hand.

“And I’m Chiharu Hamato.” Instantly, I grin. Hell yeah! Asami’s little sister!

“Asami’s sister?” I ask. Chiharu nods.

“Yup! She says hi, by the way.” I laugh.

“Thanks. So, how ‘bout it? We good to form a team?” Chiharu nods.

“Yeah! But...whose the rider?” Ryuji scratches the back of his neck.

“Well, Hiyoko is the lightest...and she can stun the people that get close with her Quirk. Maybe she should be the rider?” Hiyoko twitches in irritation.

“Seriously?!” She growls. “You don’t know their weights! They could be lighter than me, you ass!” Ryuji laughs, holding his hands up.

“Sorry, but I do know your weight, and it makes sense if you’re the rider. C’mon, sis. Don’t be mad.”

“Half sister and I’m just irritated. Whatever you all want to do is fine, though, I guess.” Ryuji nods.

“Okay. Thanks, sis. We’ll be a team with you as the rider.” He smiles at her and puts a hand on her shoulder. She grits her teeth and scowls at him, but somehow I doubt she’s as upset as she looks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hiyoko grumbles.

I nod. “Let’s all do our best!” Chiharu nods.

“Yeah!

#Fanfiction #MHA #BNHA #OC #Original Character #Original Female character #OC Insertion Series #Eijiro Kirishima #Eijiro Kirishima/OC #Takara Yamada (OC)#Eijiro Kirishima X Takara Yamada

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myrunreports · 4 years

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2020 American Heroes 100

I was pretty sure that the American Heroes 100 mile run would not happen this year. Back in May, the 49 yr old race director died from complications of back surgery. Most races have been cancelled this year due to COVID. There were no updates on the race webpage or FaceBook, so it seemed like it just wouldn’t happen. I kept looking for some kind of announcement either way and finally, a couple weeks ago, I learned that the race would go on after all. I had just finished the 4 month long virtual race across Tennessee – 1270 miles covered from May 4 to August 30. I waited a whole 24 hours after finishing that to sign up for American Heroes. The week before the race was kind of crazy. Wildfires nearby and on the west coast were causing terrible air quality. We had been having very high temperatures and then on Tuesday, a big cold front came in dropping temps by 50 some degrees and bringing snow and rain. The forecast showed a nice rebound by the Friday morning start. Five days before the race, I was working on making a flagstone patio. Moving the stones and 50 lb sacks of sand strained my back a little so I decided no more of that before the race.

Friday morning, I finished packing my gear and loaded up the van. Shah kinesio taped my low back in the same pattern as last year (partially for the low back strain I already had and preventive because I’ve had low back pain in other ultras). I often get a bad pain in the neck/shoulder area on the left side during long runs, so I also got a piece of kinesio tape on my neck hoping I could avoid that. Kinesio tape is magic for me! I did my usual foot taping and was ready to go by 8:30.

I got my camp all set up in the Roger’s Grove park in Longmont, picked up my race number, ankle bracelet (this race has both ankle bracelet chip and chip on the bib to make sure the chip reader doesn’t miss any laps) and shirt then had a bit of time before the start at 10:11. There are many different distances for this race, all with start times corresponding to events of 9/11. The 100 mile race has a 30 hour time limit, ending at 4:11 Saturday afternoon. The sky was overcast and temp was perfect for running, low 60’s at the start. Fifteen people entered this year but only six of us showed up.

At 10:11, we hit the trail. The course is 1.05 mile loops of mostly dirt, sand/gravel and a little bit of pavement. Pat was the first of many of my running buddies there to keep me company. She ran the first 16 miles with me. Not too long after she left, Shah showed up and he walked a lap with me. He also brought me a spicy chicken sandwich from Popeyes – I decided I would hold on to that for after the race. Spicy anything during a long run is not a good idea! When we finished that lap, Donna was at my camp. Her car was in the shop a couple blocks away getting new tires, so it was convenient (under the circumstances, though not that convenient overall for her!) to walk over to the park. We walked together for six laps. I was feeling fine, but getting some hot spots on my left foot despite all my preventive taping. I don’t typically have issues with my feet but have had this same problem the last two years at this race. On the off chance that it was my shoes or socks causing the problem, I changed both. The foot pain was annoying but tolerable. At 4:11, about 15 runners in the 24 hour race started so there were a few more runners on the course.

I normally don’t eat anything from the aid stations, just stick to my Hammer Nutrition fuels, but they had these delicious fig cookies and I thought it would be ok, so I ate a couple. Sometime late afternoon, I was a few tenths of a mile away from the bathroom (we get real indoor flush toilets at this race!) when I realized I needed to be there NOW. I almost made it. Luckily it was not a catastrophic event – could have been much worse! I think figs are just a bit too much fiber for me during a race. After that, I had what just felt like pressure in my low gut. Not awful nausea or cramping, but not quite right and it made it hard for me to take in calories. Sometime in late afternoon, a guy walking his dog asked me “is this the same race that was going on this morning?” Yep – it’ll still be going on tomorrow morning and afternoon too!

By evening, it was getting pretty cool out. I gradually added long sleeve shirt, light wind breaker, light gloves, down jacket, light beanie, warmer beanie and warmer gloves. Judy arrived a little after 8:00 with a Smashburger for me and she joined me for ?? miles. I was getting chilled and couldn’t really eat much and my stupid foot was still hurting. Around 10:00 I said I wanted to lie down for a few minutes. I crawled in my sleeping bag and warmed up while Judy patiently sat outside. My timer went off after 10 minutes and we got back to walking. I think she left around 11:00. At midnight, I decided I was ready for a nap so I set my timer for 30 minutes and crawled into my sleeping bag. It felt so good, I stayed there another 30 minutes. I went back out for another hour, then back to the tent at 1:00. I think the combination of my gut and my foot were wearing me down. I probably could have managed just one of those things. I kept setting my timer for 30 minutes and at some point, I did the math and decided I was not on track for a 100 mile finish. Once I made that decision, I figured I might as well enjoy the warm sleeping bag and get some rest. I checked on the toe that hurt so much but it just looked red and angry. Back out to run some more at 4:30. Cat arrived a little after 5:00. My gut was feeling much better by this time and my only real complaint was my foot.

I didn’t recognize any runners from the last 2 years, but I did see some people I had seen other places. The first place guy in the 100 mile race had a sign on him that said “Legally Blind”. I saw him and his pacer at Chase the Moon a couple months ago. Really nice guy – he somehow knew my name and would always say something nice as he lapped me (many times!) He apparently has enough vision to run alone sometimes. He had a pacer running ahead of him announcing obstacles and he wore a super bright headlamp. He was coming up behind Judy and me and we heard his pacer tell him to step up (dirt path met up with sidewalk) and then we heard an awful crash. He didn’t make that step up. It hardly seemed to faze him though. He just jumped right up and kept on running. I also recognized a runner I had seen at races in California. His nickname is “the running jester” and he’s easily recognizable by his clothes and jester’s hat. He was there for the 24 hour race. Saturday morning, I saw a woman I’ve visited with at several races around here so we chatted for a bit. One of the really nice things about a short loop course is that you get to see the same people many times and there’s a nice camaraderie to that. It’s especially nice to see how the fast people just keep on with such a steady pace.

As the morning went on, all the shorter distance races began and these annoyingly fresh-looking runners joined us on the course. Julie came and joined us for some miles later in the morning. Saturday was warming up a lot more than Friday. I was starting to think about when would be a good quitting point. Since I knew I wasn’t going to make 100, I should pick some meaningful distance. Cat was game for pretty much any distance (within reason, of course) and she planned on running marathon distance so I was thinking maybe 80 miles would be good. My toe was really throwing a tantrum though and I came up with a new goal: 78.6 miles. That’s 3 marathons distance and I could finish a couple laps sooner than 80.

I ran most of that last lap and finished with a sprint. The RD tried to convince me that I should go for another one but I was already mentally done. My final distance was 78.75 miles in 26:12, including 5 ½ hours of resting. My back and neck were never an issue thanks to the Kinesio tape. I’ve got a year to figure out how to protect that pinky toe so I can go the full distance next year. I think the problem is going in a circle, always turning to the right. I never have this problem in other races!

Sunday morning update: I feel fine this morning and the problem toe is just tender. When I drained that blister last night, the toenail was just kind of floating around on that loose blister skin. It will be interesting to see how that heals. I would be fine if the nail doesn’t come back after it inevitably falls off. I think I would be ok if that whole toe just fell off! My legs aren’t sore and I’m ready to meet up with Julie and Cat for a short easy run. Thanks to all the Allenspark Pack Runners who made my run so much more fun!

Click the “keep reading” to see an ugly blister

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years

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Countless Roads - Chapter 8

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 8 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

A/N: For everyone who needs a pick-me-up today re: Leonard Snart, here's a happy chapter.

———————————————————————————-

He calls Lisa. "Lise," he says.

"Tell me you've made up with Mick," she says, right off.

"Can't say that, but I'm working on it. If I wanted to subtly tell someone he's both priceless and a hard-headed idiot -"

"Get him a diamond," Lisa says immediately. She likes shiny things; that's why she's his go-to on these things. "Hardest substance, that sort of thing."

"I get him diamonds all the time."

"Diamonds you then sell," Lisa points out. "Get him a special one. Ooh, then run a lightshow through it! Images of fire."

"...that would be cool," Len admits, but now he’s thinking of other uses for a diamond. Yes, a diamond will work just right for what he’s planning. "Is there a diamond large enough for that, though?"

"Sure, there's plenty of them," Lisa says. "Actually, I think I saw a flyer just the other day...lemme just dig it up...ah! Here it is. Kandhaq Dynasty diamond, one of a kind, coming to the Central City Museum next month. Positively gigantic, and it's in Central. Your favorite."

Len smiles. "Perfect."

He plans his next heist with care, though he recruits whoever's willing to do the job instead of going through his and Mick’s usual careful recruitment process. The people don't matter – he's planning on paying them off with the proceeds of other jobs anyway. The diamond, whether they sell or keep it, will be Mick's to decide on.

That's what you do with gifts.

The day of the heist is beautiful and everything's working shipshape and on time. They've stopped the convoy with the diamond en route to the museum, he’s got the nitrogen to freeze open the door, the guard has been disabled but not hurt, it's all good –

Until something goes wrong.

A burst of red light and yellow lightning comes out of nowhere, zipping down the streets horizontally, moving too fast for the eye to get a proper fix on, and it comes right at them. Something - Len can't tell what - shoves them all down, causing total confusion, only to leave them alone and spirit away one of the guards when he’s (unnecessarily) shot by one of Len’s now-panicking crew.

Len hates waste, but he knows when a job’s gone bad. Time to go before whatever that was comes back.

He pulls his crew out of there and hustles them back to the warehouse they’ve been using as a home base.

“Now,” he says, looking at all of them and seeing the guilty looks on their faces that suggest that this turn of events isn’t as much of a surprise to them as it is to him, “why don’t you fill me in on what I’ve been missing in Central these past few months?”

“You were out of town,” one of them says with a shrug. “If you’d been here, you’d know –”

“Which is why you should have told me,” Len says, his voice hard. “Now’s the time to make up for your earlier missteps. What is it?”

They don’t know.

All they can tell him is that it’s a new phenomenon that’s been seen around Central, a flash of light, a flash of lightning, that goes around and messes people up. Mostly criminals committing crimes, actually; never fatally, just shoves them really hard or delivers them places they don't want to be, like the CCPD.

They tell them that there’s been a lot of weird stuff happening in Central, actually, ever since the Particle Accelerator explosion nearly a year ago – people gone strange, things happening without explanation, abilities that defy logic – and then this started and now everyone's on high alert.

This new phenomenon, only a few weeks old.

This burst of lightning that seems to be stopping crime all over the city.

They call it the Streak.

It's an awful name. Who the hell thought of that? For shame.

Of course, Len's crew also think that this Streak is some sort of new force of nature, like a will-o-wisp gone mad, which is obviously ridiculous. Their own testimony reveals that this Streak is stopping crime, and stopping crime means deciding what is crime, and deciding means sentience.

And sentience, as far as Len knows, means human.

Len pulls the footage from local security cameras and – yes. There it is.

Len’s got a good eye, and he can figure out what the others haven’t yet.

The Streak’s not a phenomenon.

It's a man.

Just a man, though admittedly one moving faster than the limits of reasonable possibility.

No, wait. Len's wrong. This is not just a man.

This is a superhero.

Len feels the adrenaline rush of a new challenge. He can’t help it; he loves it, he loves the idea of it, he loves the sheer ridiculous reality of it. A brand new puzzle to solve, a new obstacle to overcome, a new hurdle to jump, a new game to play. All brand new and interesting and exciting, and, best of all, this new puzzle is a superhero just like in the comics Mick loves so much. How wonderful.

How perfectly timed.

Len can’t wait to play this brand new game.

But only if he has Mick by his side.

And for that, he needs to get that goddamn diamond, and no Streak - superhero or not - is going to stop him.

"Lisa," he says into the phone.

"Yeah?"

"How's Mick?" Len had sent Mick over to keep an eye on Lisa, nominally, though in reality Lisa was babysitting (Mick-sitting?) to make sure Mick didn't notice what was going on until the job was done.

"Still moping, but he did make me dinner yesterday. So – improvement? Or possibly he just couldn’t bear to see me order cheap take-out again."

"Well, I mean, I guess that's something...? Anyway, I've got something of a research question for you, best engineer that I know."

"I’m the only engineer you know. Yeah?"

"What do you do if you've got something moving too fast?"

"Apply duct tape."

"Lise."

"Not an option?"

"No. Too fast for that. Far, far too fast."

"Hmm. Get something cold, then."

"Cold?"

"Yeah. Atoms go faster when they're heated; they slow down when they're cold. Like the heat death of the universe – colder and colder, slower and slower. Why do you ask?"

"Thanks, sis," Len says instead, and hangs up.

Wasn't that asshole Bertolli trying to sell STAR Labs stuff a few weeks back? No one had taken him up on it – Bertolli is a known rat, selling decent shit sometimes, but he'd turn the info that you had bought it into his next sellable commodity, and at any rate no one wanted anything to do with STAR Labs after the Accelerator.

But he'd said something about temperature themed weapons...

Sure enough, Bertolli is still selling, and starting to get desperate with it, offering to take Len back to his warehouse. Len’s not sure why the guy needs a warehouse when he only has a few items, but whatever.

Two guns – but the first one Len sees and goes towards isn’t cold, no.

It’s a heat gun.

Perfect.

Len’s still smirking when he tries out the cold gun. It works like a dream; far better than any of his other plans to stop the Streak, though some of the others were probably worth elaborating on further eventually.

“So, how many people know about this?” he asks.

“Just the two of us,” the guy says, and his voice is strangely shaky.

“Boss! He has a gun!” Kiki yelps.

Len spins and points the cold gun at the goddamn rat, who is in fact pulling a piece out. Not just a piece. Standard issue Santini, as recognizable as a cop’s gun.

This is an ambush.

“No,” Len says. “Just me.” And then he fires the blast of cold straight at Bertolli, grabs the box with the heat gun, and hightails it the hell out of there just in time before a positive hail of bullets pour through the door, spraying all over the area they were both standing a minute before.

Yep, definitely a Santini ambush. Practically a classic - as usual, the Santinis never had any intention of letting their rat survive their baited trap. And they wondered why people didn't like working with them...

“You mentioned the gun but not the guys outside?” Len asks Kiki as they go out the back door. He wonders idly how he’s pissed off the Santinis today.

“Forgive me,” she says miserably, bowing a little. “I did not think to check beyond the immediate area–”

“It’s okay,” Len says. Mick always had someone run a full perimeter check, or did it himself, but it’s unfair to compare. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yes, boss.”

Time for a test drive.

Oh, look, a local theater with a daily matinee showing.

Perfect.

Len goes to the museum to case out the diamond. He makes sure he’s as obvious as obvious can be – he even takes the goddamn McFeeny Cow Savior tour twice, and no one takes that damn thing twice, so if that doesn’t get the police called on him, nothing will.

Sure enough, the police come, and with them –

The Streak.

Len retreats, smiling, to the theater, which is just letting out.

Turns out that Len’s suspicions are correct – as soon as he gets inside the theater, the Streak comes for him, slowing down enough for Len to see him clearly. Yes, the Streak is indeed a man.

Apparently a young man. In a red suit.

God, seriously? A superhero in a red suit? Can you get more cliché?

If the kid’s been reading the same comics Len has, then – and here Len raises his gun, smiling – Len’s going to have a hell of an edge.

The theater really does make a perfect spot for a superhero ambush. Multiple exits, plenty of people all going in different directions – based on the speed Len’s estimated the Streak is running at, he can’t empty out the whole place without losing his focus. Therefore, if Len is firing at people, the Streak will prioritize saving them - and if he’s focusing on other people, he can’t focus on attacking Len, giving Len plenty of time to study his reactions and figure him out.

Len aims his shiny new toy cold gun at the various fleeing people, focusing more on testing the Streak’s running capability than on intending to cause actual injury; after all, these people did nothing to him, and he has no intention of causing collateral damage when he just ripped his crew a new one over doing the very same thing to that guard – and then killed one of them who tried to back out, which seriously, the guy should've known better than to try. At least Len got lucky and the asshole didn't turn ghost over it.

Playing with the Streak's the most fun Len's had in months.

It’s great fun.

Well, it’s great fun until someone tries to shoot him. And misses. What the hell?

“Behind you!” calls a ghost lingering in one of the seats, not one Len knows. “The usher!”

Len turns and aims at the now-fleeing would-be assassin, some amateur asshole with another Santini gun, and this time he aims so that the Flash won’t be able to speed the bastard away in time.

That bullet tore Len’s fucking coat, and he’s not dying before he makes up with Mick.

…also, Lisa would kill him if he made up with Mick as a ghost. Not that he can become a ghost. But Lisa would still kill him if he got injured, because he wouldn't be able to keep himself from making the joke about it.

Len waves at the helpful ghost in the seats, who beams and waves back, then heads out of the theater before the Streak can get over the surprise.

Len’s gotten everything he wants out of that particular encounter, after all. He got to try out his new gun, he incurred no collateral damage (except the guy that shot him, fuck that guy), and, best of all, he’s now got a solid grip on what makes the Streak – the kid seriously needs a better superhero name – tick.

“What’s a good place to destabilize a runner?” Len asks a passing ghost as he meanders away from the theater through the alleyways of Central City, twist and turns that make it impossible even for a speedster to find him.

“Uh, a carousel?”

“Does Central even have one of those?”

“Man, I don’t know, I’m from Chicago.”

Len frowns at him. “Why’re you here, then?”

The ghost shrugs. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

Len shakes his head. Weird. He’s never met an out of town ghost in Central before; usually they stick around where they died and he only sees them when he goes to where that is. Mick excepted, of course. As always. “What’s your regret?” Len asks, curious.

“Not saying good-bye to my wife,” the ghost says promptly. “We lived together, worked together, owned our business together, did everything together – and then I took a different way home one night, to surprise her, but it was late and the road was wet and, well. That was it.”

Len might be feeling a bit sentimental about partners right now, so he tosses the guy some life, just enough to strengthen him for visibility. Enough for a goodbye.

“Use it well,” Len tells him, and his voice echoes a little strangely, but the guy straightens up and nods, his eyes avid, turning and rushing away.

Okay, that was definitely weird.

Ugh, Len doesn’t have time to deal with his curse taking a brand new twist. He’s got a partner to win back.

“Julie?” he asks the air, wondering if she’s near enough to – ah, there she is.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Place to destabilize a runner. Find me one while I get the diamond. Feel free to take a poll.”

Getting the diamond from the museum is easy. See, Len might prefer complicated plans that let him get in and out with the goods clean and without any evidence that he was ever there, but he didn’t start out that way, and he knows the value of a good smash-and-grab as much as the next guy. If you don't care who sees you do it, then it's always the easiest way to go about it.

Len’s not bothering with finesse this time.

Because damnit, he is getting that diamond.

Len’s fall-back plan – bribing the museum curator to put the diamond on display despite Len’s obvious attempts to case the place and then going to grab it later in the evening – works like a charm.

The whole thing goes easy as pie, actually. His cold gun lets him smash through the doorway like he's going through glass – he freaking loves this gun and he’s going to keep it even if he doesn’t have to fight speedsters after this – and a few words and an intimidating stance are enough to get the guard turning and bolting.

The diamond is just where it was supposed to be.

By the time he smashes the glass and grabs it, Julie’s back.

“Majority say a train,” she reports. “Consistent pattern, but unstable enough – you could knock him off his feet.”

Len smiles. “Perfect.”

Normally Len avoids the train-tracks, which are a rich gathering place for suicides and crashes and misery, but he’s feeling pretty damn pumped up today.

He’s got the diamond, he’s got the cold gun, he’s got the heat gun, and he’s about to bag himself a superhero.

Mick’s gonna be so proud.

The Streak comes after Len, just as Len knew he would. Not one for forward thinking or pre-planning, this Streak.

Len destabilizes the train and watches with amusement as the poor kid rushes to get everyone off the tracks, stopping afterwards just long enough to catch his breath – and for Len to freeze him in place with a well-placed shot of the gun.

Now it’s time to end it.

Though Len’s gotta admit, now that he’s managed to freeze the Streak in place, he feels kind of bad about just offing him, then and there.

Kid’s probably got a ton of regrets, what with signing up for superheroism. If Len kills him, odds are he’ll just have to put up with him as a ghost, and that’ll be a pain. Maybe he should let him go.

Besides, if he lets him go, he can bring Mick with him next time he wants to face off against a superhero. Mick’ll enjoy that even more than the diamond and the heat gun.

Well, maybe not more than the heat gun.

But how to let the kid go now while still saving face?

“Let him go!” a voice shouts behind him.

Len turns – and stares, jaw falling slightly open.

“This is a prototype cold gun,” says the kid wielding the lumpy, massive, unshapely device. There’s a handful of others standing behind him, helping him hoist it up. “Four times the size, four times the power. Unless you want a taste of your own medicine, I’d back the hell up.”

Julie floats over to examine it. “It’s a vacuum with some LED lights,” she reports.

“Definitely,” another ghost says. “I worked a story that sold these. Definitely a vacuum.”

“Lemme see,” another one says, floating up. “Oh, wow. Is he really trying to use that as intimidation? He’d better roll a nat-20, that’s all I’m say.”

“You like D&D?” Julie says brightening. “That’s awesome!”

Right, Len needs to get out of here before he gets distracted arguing with ghosts, and possibly helping people roll up new character sheets. Now is not the time.

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” Len points out to the kid. He’s walked enough newbies through the process that he knows that the kid’s first few attempts are highly unlikely to be fatal.

Even if he wasn’t talking about shooting Len with a vacuum cleaner.

The kid swallows, but barrels on forward on nothing but sheer bravado. “There’s a first time for everything, Captain Cold.”

Captain Cold?

Who is -

Holy crap, is that supposed to be Len? Is that his supervillain name? He has a supervillain name!

Okay, that’s just plain awesome. Len clearly needs to keep these stupid idiots alive just long enough to get Mick his own superhero name.

Supervillain name.

Whatever.

Oh, what the hell, he’ll give the kid his nat-20 roll. “You win, kid,” he informs the Streak. “I’ll see you around.”

He turns to go.

“Hey, leave the diamond!”

Len shoots the kid with the vacuum a skeptical expression. “Don’t push your luck.”

And then, diamond and guns in hand, he goes home.

There might be a bit of a spring to his step. He’s not admitting anything.

The way the ghosts crowd around him to try to get high off the cheeriness he’s letting off might be admitting something, but he shoos them off when he gets to the front door.

It occurs to him that he didn’t use to have quite so many ghosts crowded up to him – and they’re not unquiet ones aiming for a handful, they’re friendlies, just wanting to grab energy emanating off of him. He’s not sure when that happened.

Well, whatever. He’ll worry about it later.

Right now, he’s got Mick to think about.

Len licks his lips and goes inside. Mick should be back by now.

Sure enough, Mick’s in front of the TV.

“Mick,” Len says.

“Hey, Captain Cold,” Mick says, turning to smile at him. A real smile, with a spark of amusement in his eyes; it’s been too long since Len’s seen that. “You end up beating your superhero?”

“He lives to fight another day,” Len replies. “Mick. Can we talk?”

Mick’s brow wrinkles. “If it’s about the jobs –”

“It’s more than that,” Len says, and brings out the heat gun, popping open the box and placing it on the table in front of Mick.

Mick leans forward to examine it. “This is…”

“A heat gun,” Len says. “Heat, to match my cold. It, uh, shoots fire. Via high powered waves of heat. It’s for you.”

For all of his protestations to the contrary, Mick’s not actually all that slow. “You want me to be a supervillain with you?”

“I want you to be by my side again,” Len says. “I want you to be by my side, always, for better or for worse, through every screw-up, your mistakes and mine. I want to have every part of you. I want to share your life, and you to share mine.”

Mick swallows. “Lenny,” he says, obviously going for humor. “That sounds a bit like –”

Clearly, Len’s going to have to be blunt about this.

Len gets down on one knee.

“Len!”

“Mick,” Len says, aiming for calm and probably missing. The only thing he knows about Christian wedding traditions he knows from television, but it’ll have to do. He pulls the diamond out of his pocket and offers it up. “Wanna – would you,” he corrects himself, “do me the honor of marrying me?”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Mick says with feeling, which is less good than Len was hoping for (yes, let’s do this thing) but not as bad as he was fearing (I don’t think this is a good idea, maybe we should rethink the whole partnership thing). “You remember that I’m dead, right?”

“So what?” Len says. “I found your original birth certificate. We’ll just tell them you look real good for your age, and skip the part with the death certificate. People do it with identity theft all the time.”

“Your marriage proposal involves identity theft?”

“Well, yeah. As you said, you’re dead; it makes things tricky. You gonna give me an answer or what? My leg’s killing me here.”

“Oh, for the love of – yes, yes, get up already.”

“That’s a yes to the marriage, right?” Len asks, getting up, Nora stepping forward out of the wall to grab his hand to help hoist him up, stealing just enough energy to take his hand. He only has eyes for Mick, though.

“Yes,” Mick says, flushing. “I guess. Since you went supervillain for me, you moron.”

“I thought I was an idiot?”

“You’re both,” Nora opines, then smiles. “Congratulations, both of you. You’re handling it much better than the time I proposed to my husband.”

“...this is better?” Mick says dubiously.

“You said yes,” Len points out. He’s grinning and can’t seem to stop. “Went pretty well in my book.”

“She said husband,” Mick argues. “So he said yes, too.”

“Oh, he did. After about five minutes of hyperventilating,” Nora says, smirking. “He’d planned a nice, quiet proposal after a romantic dinner. I ended up finding the ring first, so I did one of those big surprise proposals – you know the ones, with a flash mob and the local cheerleading squad and all that.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Nearly gave him heart palpitations. It was amazing.”

“I can’t have heart palpitations,” Mick points out. “I’m dead.”

“Dead and engaged,” Len says.

Mick’s face melts into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in joy. “Yeah,” he says gruffly. “Dead and engaged. Guess I am.”

“And no one can say I didn’t get you the biggest rock.”

“Wait. Is that why you stole the stupid thing?!”

“I was making a point.”

“About what? You being an adrenaline junkie klepto? I already knew that!”

“You being as hard-headed as a goddamn diamond, that’s what!”

“Hey, you’re the one who just offered to marry me.”

“And I meant it, too. Doesn’t mean you’re not a stubborn little –”

“Oh, just kiss already,” Nora says.

#dccoldwave #leonard snart #mick rory #lisa snart #captain cold #heatwave #my fic #deadfic #nora allen #barry allen #the flash

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