#yeah often i feel like i don't belong in this world but this is enough to keep me going. me. & you. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starker-raving-mads · 3 months

Text

For you: Part V

This is the part I was waiting for. :)

›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹›‹

Peter hadn't slept a wink in two days.

"Baby, come on, you're scaring me here," Aunt May said, frown firmly on her face as she ran her hands through the teen's hair. Peter had been at their small dining table, coffee in hand, bags under his eyes, when May woke up, took one look at him, and realized his insomnia had kicked in again. "Is it the noises again?"

Peter often couldn't sleep because the city was too loud. Even louder now than it had been before, because there was so much more construction and angry shouting from people still trying to make space for themselves in a world that had been half empty a few months ago. That wasn't why he couldn't sleep this time, his mind too entrenched in Tony Stark missed you to shut down. He hummed in agreement to Aunt May, though. Let her think it's the sound, there's no way he could possibly explain the reality.

She pet his hair for another minute, soothing the both of them in the same ritualistic maternal way she always had, before she took his face in both her hands and made him look at her.

"You need to get some sleep," she said, tone firm. "And I know you can't just - turn off the Spider-Man thing," she huffed before he could protest. "But maybe - maybe you could sleep in the penthouse. I know it's quieter there than it is here." She sounded hesitant saying it, and Peter knew why.

Despite it having been months since the will reading and his life having been irrevocably changed, despite feeling comfortable with what was left of the Avengers and spending time in Tony's - his - lab, he hadn't set foot into the penthouse. It felt too raw. Too intimate. Too much.

"No, May, I'll be fine," he protested weakly. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, thankful it would be months yet before his first semester at Columbia started. He could get a hold of himself by then, right?

"Peter Parker," May's voice was sharp. "I will not have you getting yourself sick because of this. If you can't find a way to nap today, here, you're going to spend the night at the penthouse I don't care what you have to say, mister."

That was how, 12 hours later, he found himself at the elevator exit to the Stark Tower penthouse, bag of clothes in hand.

"Mother, would you like to come in?" Friday asked. Her tone was curious, not sure why Peter had just been standing inside the open elevator when the door to the Penthouse was right there. Humans were strange.

"I - yeah, sure, baby girl, sorry," he said, shaking his head.

If being in Mr. Stark's labs was enough to make his inner voice echo he missed you, he missed you, he missed you then being in his penthouse was enough for it to say you miss him right back. The living room was much the same as the last time he'd seen it, though a little sparser. Pictures of Tony and Pepper were now missing, the random pieces of artwork that had lined the walls were conspicuous in their absence, and the caddy that normally held his favorite, ultra-soft blanket he used during movie nights was gone.

He set his bag down on the sleek waterfall counter of the open kitchen and wandered the space, feeling Tony's absence like a discordant note in a song.

"Friday, what happened to - Mr. Stark's stuff?" he asked, not really sure how to phrase the question. There was a lot missing there, like the blankets, some of the pillows, even Mr. Stark's desk.

"Boss moved a lot of the items that were here out when he and Ms. Potts officially moved to the cabin," the AI said before continuing. "Then, after his death and the will reading, Ms. Potts sent movers up to retrieve last minute items."

He frowned.

"Lock everything down that belongs to me, that was Mr. Stark's," he asked. "I don't want anyone coming in or out without my express permission. I don't like the thought of her taking things that don't belong to her."

"Yes, Mother. If you would like, I can send a request through official channels to get any missing items back?"

He sighed. "No," he grumbled. "It's fine, I don't think anything serious was taken - she didn't grab any of the tech did she?"

"No, it was primarily artwork, sculptures, furniture, and other such items," Friday replied. "There were a few things, like blankets, books, and vinyl records she also retrieved. I am sorry if anything was taken that you had wished to remain, Mother." The intelligence sensed his slight distress and her tone had shifted to slightly sorrowful.

"It's fine, sweetheart," he sighed. "You didn't know and it wasn't anything too important."

He walked the rest of the penthouse, the floor very familiar to him. He had his own room here from crashing after too-late lab binges, and sometimes he and Tony would skip the lab all together for a 'day off' and watch movies, order pizza, and just relax. Not every hallway or room had memories, but enough did to the point that the reminders were becoming more of a dull ache than the sharp stabs he'd been expecting.

Walking down the hallway where the bedrooms were, he peered into his own. Officially it was a guest room, but it had been Peter's for long enough that a few of his clothes were stuffed into the drawers of the dresser, one of his favorite pillows was tossed onto the bed, and his old, half-broken laptop was on the desk. He smiled softly. His new laptop - still new to him, despite it having been months (years) in his possession - had come from Mr. Stark after he'd watched Peter fix his DIY one too many times.

"Here, kid," the older man had said, thunking down a sleek piece of silver tech in front of him. "I'm tired of watching you try to bring Frankenstein to life over here."

"You mean Frankenstein's Monster," Peter had replied, smiling up at the man playfully. Tony rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh before walking away. "Thank you, sir!"

"Yeah, yeah, just try to keep your Monster away from me." A wink, and he was on the other side of the room.

Stepping away from his room, he walked further down the hallway, to an area of the penthouse he'd never actually explored - Mr. Stark's bedroom. And, realistically, it was Mr. Stark's. He knew that Ms. Potts had infinitely preferred the brownstone that she was left in Manhattan to the sleek, open views of the penthouse. Peter didn't think he'd ever seen her around the apartment, and from what Mr. Stark said, she'd only stayed over in the early days of their relationship and hadn't spent time here after it became Avenger Tower, and then Stark Tower again.

Peter couldn't really bring himself to feel bad about being so happy over that fact, either when he learned it, or now, as he opened up Tony's bedroom and walked inside.

The room was low-lit, with most of the light coming from the entire wall of windows to one side, city lights gleaming in like stars. There was a patio with a hot tub just outside the barrier of the windows and the silent, faint muffle of city life beyond. This room, in particular, was quiet. Peter had to wonder if it was actually more soundproofed than the rest of the penthouse, or if it was just in his head.

The bed was made, all dark wood and metal platform with deep blue-gray sheets on top. The comforter was probably the softest thing he'd ever felt and god, the smell. It felt like Tony had just left the room, smell lingering across every surface - rich, spicy and musky. Something indulgent and instinctual made Peter toe off his shoes and, still fully dressed, get into the bed.

He covered his head with the blankets and laid in the silent dark, surrounded by Mr. Stark - his scent, his belongings, feeling like he was finally where he was meant to be. His throat closed up with emotions he barely willed away.

Uncovering his head again, he said to Friday, "Fri, turn out the lights and wake me up at 9?", before shimmying out of his jeans. He laid there for a long time before, at long last, sleep took him.

For the first time since he returned from the Blip - and to be honest, probably from before then too - he had no nightmares. No buildings crushing him, no existential pain of being disintegrated, no Mr. Stark covered in blood, light dying in his eyes.

Instead, he was surrounded in warmth and an amazing scent. His senses tingled in the best way, like everything was as it should be. Mind quiet, muscles finally losing their tension. It was perfect.

Over the course of the next month, Peter split his time pretty evenly between his and May's apartment and Tony's penthouse. He loved May, and he didn't want to leave her alone after so long, but there was something that just felt right about being at the penthouse. She seemed to understand, and said that as long as he still came by to see her a few times a week and they talked on the phone every day that she wouldn't begrudge him the independence. It was a relief to her, he thought, to see him becoming more stable rather than wallowing in depression.

This was probably the biggest change, thus far, since becoming Tony's heir. That, the amount of messages Friday received bugging him for interviews with any and all media outlets, and working on Tony's 'Peter Project.'

A few days after stumbling on the billionaire's research into recreating organic intelligence, Peter decided to pick the project back up again. No matter that it made his heart squeeze almost painfully, he felt like he had to complete it. It was the man's last big effort and it felt wrong to leave it undone.

He'd spent most of his free time - when not with May, his friends, or patrolling - pouring over the data. He couldn't quite figure out why Mr. Stark had ceased his efforts as once Peter found the digital files for the project it looked as if the man had been practically finished.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, he asked, "Baby girl, I swear he made this difficult on purpose. Why did Mr. Stark stop looking into this?"

Could it simply have been that once it was within the man's grasp that it hurt too much to complete?

"Boss was unable to gather enough data that represented the you variable in the Peter Project to continue," she replied.

"What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled.

"The amount of information that needs to be analyzed simply was not enough," Friday explained. "The algorithm to extrapolate and recreate your personality, intelligence, and mannerisms needed approximately 130,000 hours of footage, metabolic data, and other such information before being able to provide a close approximation of what makes Peter, Peter."

The teen did the math in his head before his eyes widened. "15 years??"

"That is correct, Mother," there was that amusement laced within the AI's tone again. If Peter was right, it was happening more often. It made him proud to see his little AI start to grow up. "And since you are only 18 years old currently, this would have been an impossible task. Ideally, the 15 years worth of data would have been collected post-adolescence, as well, to cement what was Peter from what was Little Peter."

Peter hummed in understanding, leaning back into the couch. He crossed his arms behind his head and sat thinking for long, long moments as ideas formed in his head.

He sat upright as something occurred to him.

"Friday?" he asked, nerves making his voice waver.

"Yes, Mother?"

"How much data do you have on Mr. Stark? Like - " he gulped before continuing " - like the data needed for the Peter Project?"

She paused before saying, "As I have access to Jarvis's data as well as my own, I have approximately 144,540 hours of appropriate data."

His nerves tingled, every fiber of his being screaming at him - stop, go, do, don't. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But - but it was a way to get Mr. Stark back. Some semblance of him. A fairly accurate representation, at least, right?

"What's the latest data that you have access to for Mr. Stark?" he asked instead of saying what he really, really shouldn't. He would stop here and now if it was pre-Blip. He couldn't bring a Tony back that didn't have those -

"The final files I have appropriate for this measure are concurrent with the fight against Thanos," Friday said helpfully. "Technically speaking, as well, if you allow me to access Karen's records I would be able to shore up my data with that which was obtained via her recordings."

His heart stopped. Then, it raced.

"Okay baby," he finally said, mind running a million miles an hour now, standing and rushing to his desk. His hands flew, opening new files and folders, copying data, working. "We're opening a new project and I want you to copy over all the data from the Peter Project to it, okay?"

"Yes, Mother." Friday paused, deliberating. "May I ask what this is in reference to?"

"Yeah," he said, mind already ten steps ahead. "We're going to bring Mr. Stark back. Name the new project 'Tony Only Needs You'."

TONY.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark #iron man #peter parker #peter x tony #spiderman #peter parker/tony stark #for you fic

66 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

if youre still doing the headcanons- "what is he doing here?"

Steve hadn't seen Eddie in two years. Hadn't talked to him in nearly three. He'd worked pretty hard to not have to hear anything about him or see any news about him for most of that time, too.

So when he sees him sitting on Dustin's couch, lounging, as if he belongs there, he gets a little pissed.

"What is he doing here?" He asks Dustin through gritted teeth.

Dustin failed to mention that anyone else would be at his house for their monthly dinner, let alone that Eddie would be here.

That Eddie was even back in Hawkins.

Eddie overheard him, sitting up on the couch quickly and staring at them both.

"Eddie's in town to visit with Wayne and he stopped by to say hi."

"And he's leaving?"

Eddie looked down at the floor.

Was he...sad? He looked sad.

Steve refused to care, he couldn't care. Not with how Eddie left.

No note, no phone call, just an apology through Dustin as if he should have ever been put in the middle of whatever they had.

But if he was this sad, maybe something was wrong with Wayne? Steve admittedly hadn't checked in with him in a few months, his questioning about what happened between them often leaving him feeling drained.

"No, he's not leaving." Dustin looked between them with an angry glare. "Neither of you are leaving actually. Not until you at least talk about things like adults. You don't have to be friends or whatever, but you damn sure can't keep doing what you're doing. Steve's miserable, Eddie's pretending he isn't. Fix it before we all tie you down and make you."

"Dust-"

"No!" Dustin held his hand up as Eddie tried to speak. "Fix it. I'm going to call Suzie and when I come back, you better at least be able to look at each other."

The next few minutes were silent. Awkward.

Painful.

He noted every physical change in Eddie, saw how thin he was, how the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten worse despite the fact that he'd left to make it big and succeeded. He should be happy.

He should be thriving.

He got everything he wanted.

He left Steve behind so he could.

"I guess we should at least talk a little," Eddie finally said, voice much quieter than Steve had ever heard it before.

"Sure."

Steve sat on the other end of the couch from Eddie, looked straight ahead so he could avoid making eye contact.

"I don't know if you keep up with me or anything-"

"I don't."

It was harsh, harsher than Steve actually meant to be. He saw Eddie flinch out of the corner of his eye, resisted the urge to apologize.

"Um. Okay, yeah. Makes sense." Eddie sighed. "I'm kind of. Okay, so I'm in Hawkins for more than just visiting Wayne."

"Okay."

"I'm here because the label isn't happy with my writer's block and they told me to take a couple months and write an album or they'll consider the contract voided."

"Mhm."

Eddie was bouncing his leg, an old anxious habit that clearly hasn't gone away.

"I'm hoping being back here will help. But I also just. I want to spend time with the people I care about. I miss everyone."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I miss you."

Steve's head turned to see Eddie looking at him, unshed tears building in his eyes.

"Eddie-"

"I know I have no right to say it. Or to even be here. I didn't just leave you, I left everyone. And I barely gave any explanation and I've barely kept in touch with anyone except Wayne and Dustin because I'm scared. I'm so overwhelmed all the time and I have so much pressure on me and I didn't want any of that I just wanted to make music and see the world. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two years. When I told our manager, he said to start taking cocaine. Taking it! Like it's medication! And I did actually use it a few times to stay awake. I hate it, hate the way I feel after, but it was that or fall asleep during photoshoots. And this sounds like I'm whining, but I'm just trying to keep it together long enough to make sure Wayne doesn't see how much I hate this and how much I just want to be here playing music at stupid bars and going fishing with him even though I hate fishing and playing D&D with the guys and kissing you."

Steve was biting back his own tears as Eddie's fell.

No matter what, no matter how he felt, no matter what Eddie had done to hurt him, it still hurt to see someone he loved hurting like this.

And wasn't that a thought.

He knew he still loved Eddie, he always would.

He just didn't think he would ever have to face it head on like this.

"Eddie, I." Steve cleared his throat. "I'm sorry things aren't what you wanted, but. I can't. I can't let you in again. I spent a year trying to tell myself you'd be back. A year watching your every move in newspapers and tv interviews. Waiting for the day you'd mention me or come visit and apologize for leaving like you did. But you didn't and I had to accept that. I had to force myself to believe that you didn't care because thinking that you did hurt worse. I couldn't love you the way I wanted to, so I had to tell myself you didn't love me, even though I'm pretty sure you did. I'm pretty sure you still do. But it wasn't enough then and it wouldn't be enough now, and I can't let myself settle for not enough. I've done it before, you know how that fucked me up. I can't let it happen again."

Eddie nodded once, then stood up.

He was leaving again, Steve knew it.

But then, Eddie sunk to his knees in front of Steve, placed his shaking hands on Steve's knees.

"If you tell me to stay, I will."

"Eddie-"

"No. Please. Tell me to stay. I don't want to go back and I need you to tell me to stay. Even if you never talk to me again, I need you to be the reason I give the guys when I tell them I can't do it anymore. They'll understand if it's you. They always knew it would be you."

"Stay. You need to stay."

Eddie sobbed as he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against Steve's knee.

Steve placed a hand on the back of his head, biting back a sob as Eddie's hands squeezed his legs.

Steve couldn't do this right now, he didn't think Eddie could either. Emotions were too high, Dustin was in the room down the hall, and Steve knew there would be yelling, and crying, and words said that might lead to regret.

But it was something to have Eddie here, something to have him begging for Steve to be the one to tell him to stay, something to know that Eddie missed him the way Steve missed them.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon #drabble #dustin henderson #angst with a hopeful ending #this got long #oops

168 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 8 months

Note

I've been seeing complaints that Spenser was 'trying too hard to kill the cast' this episode, which I have to say I wildly disagree with, but I will admit to be a little confused why the players sometimes took one or even two marks after rolling a six. Or I guess I'm not confused so much as I wonder if the mechanics for injury, success, failure, etc could be too vague atm? Candela doesn't really have anything like CR rating or DC which it doesn't NEED, but I guess could create some grey area?

Good question! Here's the secret: all TTRPGs I'd consider worth my time have a huge swathe of gray area, D&D very much included (indeed, I find a lot of the more baseless criticisms of D&D, especially from Game Based Heavily On D&D But Different fans (derogatory) to come from people mad at that gray area) and as long as the players and GM have agreed on it, it's fine. With that said I admit that paying attention to individual rolls is not what I am inclined, personally, to do, but if this is about Sean rolling a six and taking two body...that is because he was going to take four body off the bat and reduced it with a good roll that the GM permitted him. (It also might be about Marion taking in the rift, which was similarly stated beforehand to cost him a Bleed scar no matter what he rolled, the roll reflecting how successful he was.) Now, we can talk about the implications of taking four body seemingly out of nowhere, but do recall that is coming off an earlier 1 roll in his interaction with Duncan.

CR ratings generally are a poor understanding of difficulty, and the thing about DCs is you can set them arbitrarily high (or for that matter, secretly low). Like...to use D&D, you cannot make a persuasion check for someone who dislikes you to give you all their belongings and run away forever. The DM is going to set the persuasion check at 50 and it is going to be unreachable by any means. Even a nat 20 will give you a result of "they think you're joking and laugh it off instead of run after you with a sword." If you jump off a sufficiently high cliff in D&D and roll a nat 20 to land, you still might take enough damage to die during your three-point landing. And so on.

So: while we don't have all the rules of Candela Obscura, it is valid from my knowledge of the Forged in the Dark engine, which Illuminated Worlds was heavily influenced by, for Spenser to say "this action is unbelievably dangerous and there is no possible way you are escaping unscathed, and a full success means that you live to tell the tale with only a gunshot wound or bleed damage rather than outright death." That's the other thing: completely valid for the GM to come in planning to kill the players. That's the premise of EXU Calamity. I would assume the table discussed that this was going to be a much darker and more dangerous game than Chapter 1 and everyone shares those expectations, and is prepared to possibly lose these characters. Which is, frankly, another thing that comes up specifically in actual play: what the table knows and expects and is prepared to accept is often something much harsher than the audience is prepared to accept. I mentioned being irritated at the presumptive nature of a lot of safety tool discussion (and am feeling very validated by Spenser's tweet about how he handled the letters to Sean) but like...when the CR or D20 or Candela tables prepare for their games, they have talked about expectations of tone and whether the GM will be trying to gently usher new players to victory, flat out gunning for a potential TPK, or somewhere in between.

This was a long, pre-full dose of caffeine way to say that one of the biggest rules of GM-ing is that the GM sets the tone of which the danger and difficulty of the world is part, and also that, based on everything about how this chapter has been presented, if someone accuses Spenser of being very hard on the party my answer is "...yeah, no shit, did you fail to realize that from the tone and text of literally every trailer and interview?"

#answered #Anonymous #candela obscura #i don't necessarily think the people making this complaint are No Combat D&D People. but also. they give off that air.#that But TTRPGs Are Supposed To Be About How Cool My PC Is and it's like. you can do that at your table #some of us want to experience catharsis through fiction though hope this helps

92 notes · View notes

yourgirlniki · 4 months

Text

Jackie and Wilson

"For whatever poor soul is coming next"

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

3k words

Tags!: No use of y/n, fluff, down bad Johnny MacTavish, not completely canon accurate Soap, first fic! 😎👍

A/N: This is based on Hozier's song Jackie and Wilson - I'm thinking I want this to be the beginning of a collection of one-shots based on his songs, depending on my free time! But again, first fic so please any comments would be greatly appreciated! Was nervous to post but ya only live once Hope you enjoy!

The cushion on the back of the booth wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever. The deep red bump didn’t do much to help an aching back, more of a thing that somewhat fixed the posture of those who sat at it. But who goes to a bar for comfort anyway? Dingy bars aren’t the first place most people would think to go back to after nearly dying halfway across the world.

The sticky floors, the mesh of posters and old mementos hanging on the brick walls. The neon lights, the potent smell- its headache inducing and you don't even have a hangover yet. And there are too many people in here, crowding pool tables and the small dance floor, (if you can even call it that), to be called someplace one would go to calm down and relax.

This is a fact that is true for most people.

But most people aren’t military. Even fewer are SAS.

And absolutely none are John MacTavish.

The man who idolizes the chaotic ways of the world above all else. That’s what has him still in the job quite frankly. The chaos, the ability to live and thrive in an insane environment. For someone like him, these things never truly bothered him. In an odd sense, the smell of alcohol, sweat and far too many bad ideas feel closer to home than he’s been in a few months. A comfort that most don't understand. But he does.

So even as exhaustion tries to take hold, the scott wears a signature giddy smile, adds a seemingly impossible pep to his step, and he drags the 141 into a back table, somehow always energetic. Even after practically wasting away in a desert for the past 3 months, he has energy. It’s honestly absurd.

Even worse is that he always finds a way for that energy to become contagious. As much as his teammates joke and grumble about it, Johnny was their way of restoration, to push forward. He would choose a shitty bar, and even shittier alcohol over a quiet apartment or the pile of paperwork that had to get done at some point. And so, the boys would too. Even if they hid it behind the facade of “babysitting” the grown man.

So now, here they sat, against the trashy cushions, with crappy music, in the dimly lit bar, with smiles and a sense of belonging. They call it a “celebration” of a mission well done, a nod to their success. Definitely not an excuse to just drink the night away, to get the mission out of their heads for a bit. To laugh with comrades and just be… domestic? Is that right? Close enough.. Yeah? Finding their small slot back into normal society.

Don’t get him wrong, Johnny loves his job. Loves what he does, but who doesn’t want to just have a drink at a bar with his mates every once and a while? And that's why he has his third beer in his hand and is snorting and a story Gaz is telling about one of his most recent hookups. A lady who was.. “Bloody crazy! I mean it. Seemed nice at first but don't be fooled, she was insane!”

Yeah, this is home. It’s where he belongs, where he wants to belong, he thinks. With his men, in the middle of nowhere chatting about anything and everything. Confiding in and teasing each other. He trusts them with his life, he can trust them to listen when need be. And yet… there is always that ache. The strange pull in moments like these like something is still missing. It’s been happening more often lately. And it's like an itch Johnny can't scratch. A puzzle piece he can't find but is still absent mindedly searching for. The only issue is he doesn't know what it is, that it just- isn't.

The chatter fades to a muffled sound in the scotts ears for a moment as he lets out a small, genuine smile looking at his group, sipping at the drink in his hand as his forearms lay themselves on the table, hands clasping. Taking a moment to truly thank whatever may be pulling the strings. Bringing him and his boys to safety. And maybe even a small prayer to tell him what the odd nagging in his brain is about. He takes a breath and relaxes, just for a moment. Looking around the bar, truly just admiring the world around him, the bustle of it all, the people with their own lives and ambitions.

How was he supposed to know that was a fatal mistake on his part?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

He found out a second to late, registered it after he knew he was done for. It was one moment, a mistake, a pause, that would stick with him for as long as it dared. It was a magnet, an invisible force that pulled his very being toward it. The moment he nearly drooled his drink out from his now slack jaw.

Because when his eyes connect with the woman walking through the door, he swears time stopped.

Suddenly, the crappy bar didn’t smell as bad, the music wasn’t too loud, the cushion no longer made his back ache, the room got brighter just from her smile. The very ground shifted, and not in the drunken haze way. He warmed up, eyes wide. A thought process that if he opened them more he would see more. God, it felt like getting a cavity by now, she felt too sweet to even look at.

In a single moment the world shattered around him, everything he knew was thrown out a window, as his mind was occupied by one thought only.

It was only a moment… but by then he knew he was fucked, utterly and completely.

Fate or destiny, call it what you may. An answered prayer, an utter coincidence. It didn’t matter. The bar turned into a museum, a place to observe and admire as his eyes widened impossibly more as his head tilted watching her move. A giggle slipped under his breath as he thought he could be mistaken for Ghost at this point, with his starring.

But your pull, it was undeniable. Even the thought of looking away would cause you to vanish in a blink, never for Johnny to see again. And he couldn’t have that. Not when it was astonishing in the way you simply were.

It only got worse as your group got closer to theirs. A mere table away. When you first walked in it was a trap, a line that was cast into his pond and he was falling for the bait. Confidence is something he is used to in his line of work, but it was usually the cocky kind. The kind that made him want to kick a recruits teeth in for. But you were something different entirely. You demand attention, even if you didn't know it. A high held head, a testament to the world that you were there, and you were aware of it. Thank god it was his attention it demanded, because it was nothing short of a miracle.

The air you lived in became breathable, spreading to his little corner of the bar as he had to remind himself to actually inhale and exhale as he took in the sight over and over again. Committing it to memory. The world became a movie, a fictional place where he wasn’t. One he could only watch and revel in. It was the type that you knew was going to be good before it even began. The one you had been anticipating for and knew wouldn’t disappoint. His heart rate picked up, the same way it would in the field, but in a much less stressful manner now. Jesus, what was happening to him? You must have cursed him. That’s it. The only explanation. Bewitched by not only the view, but the melody of your laugh flooding his ears now at the closer proximity. Leaning against a standing table with a glass in hand, head slightly tilted enough that a stray hair fell to cover your face.

It was comical the way his heart sped up, watching as you chatted with your own group. Something so normal, something you see every single day, was making the big strong man’s hard race like it life or death. And he knew life or death.

Romeo had nothing on him.

Absolutely nothing in the way his brain knew he was to be yours. It had to be, he had to be. It’s how the story will be written, and he will play his role. Stealing your hear that way you have entranced his own. He wouldn’t be able to tell you when he got up. He can’t tell you how his body moved on its own, knowing what needed to be done but not conscious enough to alert his brain.

What he can tell about how perfect it felt to so much as stand there by you. Soaking in your presence was one thing, standing in it next to you was another entirely.

And that's how he found himself face to face with you, who turned to him with a puzzled look, but a kind smile.

He was a goner.

“Oh… umm- Hello, can I help you?” Is all you had to say to him to confirm his every thought. This woman could heal every wound with her voice alone. And her eyes so much as finally looking back at him felt like he was seen for the first time in his life.

“Uhh.. sir? Are you alright?” Your voice rang out again, pulling him back to reality as you hand waved in front of his face slightly. A flattering smile on our lips and your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost concerned. What came over John MacTavish in that moment is unexplainable.

“I seem to have lost my number—can I have yours?”

Her eyebrows raised. She blinks. Then tilting her head slightly.

He could die right then and there.

Leaning against the table next to her with a stupid, crooked smile and a raised eyebrow, as if he didn't just embarrassed the hell out of himself. A pick up line? That's the best you could do, John? Really? Welp, there goes every chance you had, cut your losses and- Laughter chimed in his ears like wedding bells. And that’s when he froze, every negative thought draining him as he became light. You laugh was intoxicating more than any drink or drug. The kind that was unapologetic and genuine. The kind that has the back of your palm finding your lips as you cover your giggles, nose scrunching and eyes squinting due to the smile. One that made both of you have pink cheeks for different reasons. A joke that probably shouldn't have been laughed at, but coming from the man before you, it eased the tension in the air.

It must have been the prettiest sight Johnny had ever seen.

He doesn’t know how he did it, probably because it wasn’t him at all. Must have been pure luck that after that horrible entrance she seemed kind enough to humor him that night. He bought you a drink and hung on every word you so much as muttered in his direction. You laughed at every joke, good or bad. He made it his mission to make sure he always heard that laugh from then on. To produce it from you.

Oddly enough, it turns out you were one of few words when it came to the actual conversation. And yet it was never rude, ore quiter nature. But more like you were always listening. Every word John rambled on about you picked up, asking questions or simply nodding, expressing your thoughts in your facal expression. Because of this, it seemed like he never looked away from you either, not that it was a bother, it was strangely alright. It wasn’t judgemental, only observant.

He thought he might go buy a ticket for the lottery after you agreed to give him your number by the end of the night. He was more smitten than he’s ever been, and on the dates to follow the swooning only got worse.

Every moment with you felt exhilarating, like he found that missing piece finally after a long search. And that piece loved him back He was insufferable, always gushing about the woman he has the opportunity to take out on a date. And the dates where nothing less of spectacular. The pair was stupid like teenagers in love, but more sentimental, understanding the weight of things better. Arguments never lasted long and if they did they were cleared up before any damage was done. She understood what his job ment to him, and told him she would never make him change that about himself. It was his passion, she can share.

“Just so long as you promise to come back to me.”

And from that day forth he would make a pinky promise every time he left. He was to come home. Time passed quickly, in flashes. It felt like his life went from downtime in between missions, to missions in between downtime. His heart ached for you in the days he was gone, but he always knew he would be home. He would see you again. He found a want to live, even more now that he found his world.

And as time passed them by, he found out she was perfect in the all the ways he could dream of. Especially in the impossible task of calming him down as well. Rough mission? She already had his favorite meal ready and was soothing him over. Nightmares? She was there either on the phone or more recently next to him to hold him and run her fingers through his hair. To much energy? To rowdy? You always found a way to settle him down. His anchor. And he would do the same for her if the day presented itself.

Another plus that made it all that much more, everyone liked you.It wasn’t hard too of course, but it proved even moreso how lucky he got. His family adored you, his sisters taking you in as part of the family already, much quicker than any of his other past relationships. It made him well up with pride.

Even when he officially introduced you to the 141, it was with open arms as well. If he wasnt a unit before, he absolutely was one now. Maybe just a tad bit more annoying with his bragging but of course he brags. Those boys knew how much you were doing for him, and you knew they were keeping him safe. It was a harmony that both sides respected.

A part of him knew that even if all of those people didn’t like her, (an impossible feat if he does say so himself), nothing would change for him. You were his, he was yours. Irrevocably and absolutely. If the world didn’t want them, the world wasn’t for them. Simple as that. Life became sweeter, dreamlike as he fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was almost unbelievable, no, it was unbelievable.

One day, as he was laying on the couch, laying gently on you, nearly dozing off. Then he felt your hand on his shoulder, a soft pat that made him stir but not move as he hummed in response. “Johnny?” You said, soft enough that he had to stir slightly closer to your voice. But he didn’t look up, kept his heavy eyes shut as he mumbles a small “what?”

“Earth to Johnny..” Hmm, that's odd. It mde him sit up the slightest bit more. Must have been laying on his ear wrong, your voice sounded weird. And another pat on his shoulder, a bit harder this time.

“MacTavish!”

And then he blinked. He was sitting up straight, eyes wide as he made eye contact with his Captain across from him, in the same place he left him at the bar. The bar? His cheek stung from the movement of no longer resting on… his palm? His? No that’s not right. His head hurt slightly as the smell of bar flooded his nose. What was he doing in a-

“Soap, you alright? You were out for a bit. Staren’ at nothing.” Gaz said with a smile, slightly concerned.

He looked around, baffled as he took in the same dingy bar he had met you in. In fact in the same spot exactly, same clothes, same drink. Hold on, that can't be right. His head swung back around as he took in the table next to them was, empty. Bottles and cups discarded to the side, napkins crumpled. He heard the bar door shut as his eyes flicked over and spotted the same woman walk away outside, smiling the same as she was before. Only then did it make sense.

His mind filled in the blanks for him as he rubbed his face with a groan. When something is too good to be true, it's probably because it is. Gaz was patting his back as Ghost and Price shared a look that had Price hiding a smirk. But it didn’t matter to Johnny.

What mattered was she’d already left.

The boys decided that's where the night should end, Johnny's head almost embarrassingly hung low as they paid their bill and called a car to take them back to base. This is the first time Scott has sulked in a while, running his hands through his mohawk as he kicked himself for being so stupid. Caught up in a daydream of a random woman at the bar, what a stupid fantasy to get caught in. he was practically mourning something he doesn't even have, never did have. And now something he wouldn’t have either.

The moment changed his life for sure, a memory of fake memories that will haunt his little brain every once in a while when he's bored and remembers this night.

#john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #cod #cod x reader #new fic #first fic #cod mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader

37 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 1 year

Note

Primis Ritchofen with a Player Darling that ended up inside the game somehow? No idea how she would've gotten in tho, but how would he react upon meeting her?

Ohh, so this is not only self-aware but reality warping :0 Sure! Writing this made me like Primis even more ☺️

Yandere! Primis Richtofen with Player! Darling

Short Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Reality warping, Self-aware yandere, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Slight overprotective behavior, Forced kissing, Forced affection, Implied intimacy, Slight manipulation, Delusional behavior, Blood mention, Gun mention, Forced relationship

A request like this actually sounds plausible in this universe (sort of-).

Ultimis Dempsey even has self-aware lines in game.

It makes sense due to all the dimensional travel Primis Richtofen would feel your presence.

He isn't quite sure why or what you are to him.

Just that he knows there's a comforting presence aiding his every action.

The others may feel it, but he seems to be the only one who takes the most comfort from it.

It's like he feels lost without this feeling-

Pfft, must be the ore. He has a job to do.

That's how you two communicate at first.

Strange feelings that seem unexplainable to him.

You getting reality warped into the game sounds insane.

It is, although it feels explainable in his universe.

Among the zombie hordes you zap in, falling through some sort of space gate before awakening in a new yet familiar land.

One that terrifies you with disturbing views and rotting smells.

It's then you encounter Primis, the whole crew straight from your game.

Everything feels too real, you can't be dreaming.

You're dragged to somewhere safe, although you're interrogated heavily.

They all bark questions at you.

Although, Richtofen is the only one who seems so deep in thought.

That feeling he gets... it's stronger with you.

That strange link he feels is strongest with you.

"You... tell me more about where you're from. I have to know."

You tell your story the best you can.

You don't know why you're here.

But you do know in your world, this is a game.

You're the player, their guide.

His guide.

Realizing how important you are, Richtofen arms you with whatever they have available.

"Keep this... player, alive. What is your name anyways?"

"(Y/N). Aside from games... I don't have much experience with guns-"

"You'll learn. Trust me, I did."

It's then you join the group, looking for clues on how to get home.

Meanwhile, the longer Richtofen is with you, he grows to enjoy this connection between you.

This... string of fate between you calls to him.

He has his own story to follow, but he wants you included in it.

You're (Y/N), his player.

A being so similar yet unlike him, trapped in a dimension you don't belong.

Part of him pities you for being involved in all of this.

Although, he is excited at the same time to meet you.

Sometimes his personality is grim, though with you he leans more towards cheerful.

His paranoia increases with you around due to the zombies.

The idea of you being hurt...

The idea of losing a key part to his existence...

It disturbs him to think about.

He's unskilled at combat like you at first, the two of you figure it out luckily.

Down time is something you all need but doesn't come often.

When it does, Richtofen is glued to learning about you.

He goes from being cautious the first few times to growing... physically clingy.

Feeling the warmth of you against him is comforting.

You try to see his affection as friendly.

His hugs are awkward yet full of genuine care.

You have grown close to him over the journey you shared together

He's surprisingly a great friend and comrade.

Richtofen... feels different towards you.

He wants to worship you.

He wonders what your lips feel like-

Richtofen refuses to give up the comfort you give.

It'll take some time, though Richtofen may even be bold enough to act upon such deep desires.

"(Y/N)."

"Yeah, Edward? ... I can call you that, right?"

"Yes... yes you can. Do... you have anyone at home?"

"Anyone at home?"

"A lover, someone intimate?"

"Oh, Edward... you know I can't- I don't like what you're getting at-"

He shifts closer.

"Why? Why not?"

"You... don't exist in my world-"

"Are you afraid you'll get attached?"

"N-No-"

"If my world is a game in yours, then surely if I do this it won't matter, right?"

It's then he kisses you.

It feels comforting and wrong.

You tug on his vest, he holds you tightly.

Not enough...

He wants to be closer to you.

You pull away, panting before staring at his eyes.

Eyes full of desire.

"Edward...."

"It doesn't matter, does it? Whatever happens here may be undone if you leave... If you leave...."

He thinks on his own statement before pulling you closer.

"I want to come with you."

You try to spend the rest of your journey calming him.

He's being strange, you're altering too much.

Alas... Richtofen is too drunk on your warmth and taste to care.

He was not expecting to fall so far for you.

Every touch he gives is possessive.

He's under the delusion that you're his and he's yours.

You never even said your thoughts on the matter.

Perhaps what he says is true...

Whatever you do here with him won't matter when you go home.

Every hug, kiss, or anything further...

There may not even be evidence of it.

You still want to go home, however.

Much to Richtofen's dismay, you wish to leave.

This distresses him.

If you ever did find a way home, there's two ways he'd try to keep you.

One, he'd destroy your route home.

He'd kill whatever, he'd demolish whatever...

He's keeping you with him.

"Please do not struggle, dear! Did you really think I'd let you leave after everything we've done together!?"

Two, he'll sneak out with you.

You'll think you got home safely...

Only to feel strong bloodied arms around you.

"Feel free to show me around, darling. I plan on staying here for a long time."

He doesn't care how it happens.

As long as he's with you and keeps such a strong connection to you, he's happy.

#yandere call of duty zombies #yandere cod zombies #yandere primis richtofen #yandere self aware au

153 notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 19 days

Note

People are ridiculously entitled and it’s genuinely so disheartening. Books are someone’s ART. You don’t just get to alter a name in someone else’s creative work. (I’m appalled people out there think this is remotely acceptable - writers are not court jesters nor do they exist to please everyone - no human being nor their creative work does, in fact!) Thanks for putting your various responses out there! Here’s hoping people learn to respect and appreciate artists and creators once again

Quoth Nora Roberts:

I am not here to be a slave to certain reader’s wants, needs, whims. Again, I write what I write, and these are MY characters, in my books. Not yours. They are yours to enjoy or not, but they belong to me, they come from me...

You don’t have to agree, but I’m not writing for your particular point of view. Again, I’ve explained my reasons for this. I won’t do so again. My characters, my books, my decision. If you want something else, read something else.

And yes, I said that, too. Blast away, it changes nothing. I am not obliged to meet an individual’s demands.

So.

First off:

If you're really super chill about the idea of being able to change what writers write just because you didn't like a detail you think is small and irrelevant, I would sincerely encourage you to read La Nora's full thoughts on similar issues... and yeah, I'm gonna equate something as "small" as a name with what Nora's talking about here. Because it is ALL the author's domain. I've never personally subscribed to the idea that a work "isn't yours anymore" once it's out in the world. The way people interpret and interact with it isn't yours, sure. But it's still your creation, and you should be the only person with control over the content.

... and sometimes, I, as a reader, don't like what authors do with their content. I get it. I don't like that Lisa Kleypas edited her work years after publishing it, because I'm big on the "own what you wrote originally even if it's uncomfy" train... (for the most part--editing the fetishization of Cam and Kev would've made sense to me). And I don't think there's anything wrong with readers pointing out problematic shit in a writer's work, offering critique in an open forum, as Smart Bitches, Trashy books did when reading Hello, Stranger, which I speculate may have prompted some of Lisa's edits.

But! I can't say that it would ever be my right as a reader to, say, use future technology to tell my reading device "edit out the times Cam says shit that reads super fetishized". It's just kind of repellent to me to imagine rewriting someone's work in any way without their permission. Fuck, I don't even like the idea of estates releasing sequels or revised versions of books unless the author indicated that such was in their wishes in their will. (See: the TWO official Gone with the Wind sequels/prequels/whatever authorized by Margaret Mitchell's estate.)

We, as readers, have our lanes. The writers have theirs. And sometimes, as writers, they do tiny things or BIG things in their lanes that we dislike. (I love Tiffany Reisz's Original Sinners series, for the most part. I really, REALLY hate the most recent book in the series. HATE. IT. But the only thing I can do about that shit is just pretend that book never happened, which I actually can fairly efficiently because I do in fact control what my brain does. Or, seek out books that give me what that series didn't with that most recent book. Sierra Simone's do a bangin' job.) But you know... Not only do I not think it is safe for me to merge into their lane... I don't want writers to feel like they have to submit to demand and give away pieces of their work in order to keep selling.

(And honestly? For the vast majority, I don't think it would make enough of a difference anyway--writers are often sold bills of goods with new strategies or tech. "This will change the way you sell books". Most writers won't ever be able to write full time anyway, and I find the way that this fantasy that you'll be able to do otherwise with THIS TECH optimizing your writing time, or THIS SUBSCRIPTION increasing the eyeballs that will see your book... Scammy. Not all of it's bad! But the selling strategy that you'll make more money... If you're selling on KU, if five extra people buy your book you're still making pennies, so it's gotta be more than one thing that converges to create the sale, and a lot of that, I gotta say, is word of mouth and people just LIKING YOUR SHIT. And I'd argue that they're more likely to like your shit if you're invested as a writer.)

Second:

No need to thank me! I honestly think that the majority of readers do appreciate what writers do (or don't feel either way about it and just read like people have always read lol) but I don't know. I can't really tell what it is--the sort of "fandom" that's been created around books (and like, author fan clubs and such have always existed, but obviously the accessibility is so different), new tech developing very rapidly when for centuries books were relatively stagnant technologically speaking, the fanficification of EVERY type of media it feels like... But the sense of entitlement that certain readers feel does seem to have grown. Or maybe it's simply become more visible. I mean, Nora Roberts has from the dawn of her writing career taken off had fans that can communicate with her, and I'm sure many have written letters like "Go give these characters a baby :(".

My biggest thing is always going to be this: some books ain't gonna be for you. There are books that sound so Caroline. I read them, and for whatever reason--writing style, one character choice, something ephemeral I can't name--they aren't. Everyone else loves these books. I'd love to love these books. I'd love to discuss these books. I'm not in the party. And that's FINE. Not every party is going to be a party I'm down for! One of my best friends loooooves Tessa Bailey and Tessa-like contemporaries. Tessa, by and large, doesn't work for me. So my friend and I can't discuss a lot of books in depth. Do I wish historicals worked for her so that I could nerd out with her? Sure! But I can't make something that doesn't work for her work for her, and I can't make Tessa's books work for me.

And I know that people will be like "it's just a name bitch", but... it's a slippery slope to me, just like ALL of AI and AI-related tech has been a slippery slope. Like, y'all said AI wasn't gonna be a big deal and would just make things easier, and people are now selling AI-written books under their names. Everyone said that authors would have control over how AI interacted with their books, and books are being scraped for AI on the daily.

I do not want anyone to have final control over what is and isn't in a book but the person who wrote the book. I do not want writers to feel like they need to cede any amount of control over the copy in that book over to readers in order to succeed.

And I honestly think it would be a lot healthier for everyone involved if we as readers (viewers, general audiences) just accepted that we don't get everything we want, and creatives are not here to dance to our tune. They are people, and they want to tell the stories they want to tell. Your power? Is in your dollar. If you don't like that shit, don't buy it. If you don't want to support it... don't! Fuck, if you want to talk shit on the internet about how the most recent book in the series was absolutely not for you, that's your right, too.

I don't want you fucking with a single word on the page, though. Feel free to go write your own shit--prosper! But that part of what Nora said that rings true to me most is "they come from me". These books come from writers. You have them because of those writers. So, I don't know, dude. Just take what's there, and if you dislike it, spit it out and move on to the thing you will like. Authors aren't churn factories to produce what you want, and ROMANCE as a genre, however commercial it is and however much it does have that One Rule that defines it as a genre... Is still something that writers should be allowed to experiment with. That's the work writers put in. The work readers put in? Finding shit that works for us. And I'm telling you... With a little practice, it ain't hard. How do y'all think I have all these books to recommend? Lmao

#romance novel blogging #and look until i publish a book i consider myself a reader first a writer second #i get it! i love readers! i am a reader! i think the majority of readers are totally respectful of the process #or again just don't care and read a book and move on lmao #don't even have a goodreads account #(which is FINE)#but the entitlement squicks me out both as a reader and as a (for now largely for fun) writer #it's like people put zero consideration into the effort and thought it takes #it's work! and your money is your money and you can decide whether or not you want to support that work #but like... it's especially a thing w romance imo even from romance readers #where this seems to be this idea that there isn't effort and thought put into the books. and it's p demeaning tbh #and you know i'd say the same shit if we were talking fic #and i don't think that any of what i'm saying suggests that you can't make fic btw--creating a fanwork and altering the original #v different things and they come with different intentions imo... and i respect the effort that comes w fic too #ANYWAY! i said i wouldn't say anymore but the casual nature of just changing shit really bugs me #and i needed to get these thoughts out of my head bc i kept thinking about it lol #and everyone can HATE ME

10 notes · View notes

finefiddleheaded · 3 months

Text

Hot take, but I actually really, really love Cassie Sandsmark's current costume.

It just... it looks like how I dress. I see me in that. I see my evolution in her evolution.

I too was an awkward (unwittingly) queer kid who thought every other girl in existence was born with innate knowledge I had no way of obtaining. In my younger years I generally looked like a dorky string bean.

Then as a preteen and teen I leaned real hard into being a tomboy. At the time my idea of fighting the patriarchy was to ~not be like other girls~, but if I'd allowed myself to be truly honest with myself I would have recognized that i actually didn't feel all that happy wearing baggy, oversized clothing and being mistaken for a boy. There's nothing wrong with that, let me be clear. But to me it was either THIS or THAT. And wearing or doing anything "girly" was giving in to the patriarchy. And that's not a really healthy way to make life choices.

Obviously Cassie did the opposite, leaning way into "doing girl right," but we were both reacting to same principle: there's a right way to be a girl and there's a wrong way and you need to either gather or throw away what doesn't conform. I was looking for a fight. Cassie was looking to belong.

What broke this mentality for me was moving to an art school thousands of miles from the heteronormative white suburb I'd grown up in. I met so many different people with different experiences of the world. And wow! Lots of them had personal styles that weren't Boy or Girl or Popular Subgroup with Distinct Rules (when i was a teen it was emo, scene, punk, prep.) And I started to go "hey no one knows me here... maybe I could try on being sexy or girly or pretty or cutesy or dye my hair or shave my head. Maybe i can play. No one here cares, there's no one to fight."

But poor Cassie had to try to do her wobbly, awkward self-exploration in front of the world, while standing next to Dianna Prince and Donna Troy (and getting bullied at school.) Everything she did or didn't do with her self-presentation was automatically in conversation with their choices. And as one would expect, often her attempts ended up looking either painfully clumsy or "not herself."

In college I had a close friend and roommate (a lesbian - i was the "token straight" in my friend group which lol no i wasn't), whose style embodied feminine cuteness. She always wore heels and had perfect makeup and wore pretty long skirts. Like Cassie did with Cissie, I paid attention to how she put on her makeup and copied stuff. She gave me tips when I asked about it. I felt awkward and clumsy and self conscious (and looked it, too.) After a bit I moved on, took a little bit with me (a lot of it wasn't my thing and honestly felt like i was cosplaying someone else) and starting trying other stuff.

Over time I also became acquainted with the wider queer community and learned the gender binary was false to begin with. (God, I wish I'd known sooner.)

ANYWAY what ended up happening was that I pieced together a really comfortable, eclectic style that's first purpose is to make me happy. Sometimes I wear makeup. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes i look like a witch with tall edwardian boots. Sometimes I look kinda punk. Sometimes I look like I stepped out of a historical picture. Sometimes I *do* wear baggy oversized clothes. I have brightly dyed hair. I've tried an undercut, and pixies, and long hair and the bisexual bob. I wear a large hat and a leather jacket and heels. I wear sparkly nail polish and bright red lipstick and I absolutely don't gaf what shape my eyebrows are.

But that took years and years of saying "oooh I like that look" and going home and trying it on. (Sometimes with the additional queer head scratcher of "do I like this look or am I just attracted to this person?" Yeah, definitely not something i can imagine Cassie ever thinking lmao)

But funnily enough you wanna know what makes up the bulk of my outfits nowadays? T-shirt, leggings, comfy skirt, and leather or jean jacket. And comfy 1920s workboots. Why? It's comfy and I feel cute with very little effort!

Anyway, that's why i earnestly love Cassie's stylistic evolution and back and forth with femininity (even if I have to retrofit/reclaim some uhhh pretty sexist stuff from the people writing/drawing her.)

Because this girl? She looks like she looked in a mirror this morning and went "damn, I'm cute." She looks like she chose that skirt bc it's comfortable and fun to twirl in and for the snap the fabric makes when she's flying. She looks like she feels cool with that jacket on. She looks like she put that eyeliner on and went "fuckin nailed it" when she got the point she wanted.

#cassie sandsmark #wondergirl #i have so many emotions about this girl #sorry for the essay #I've just been thinking about this for a while

12 notes · View notes

unreadpoppy · 2 months

Text

Saw a video and it got me in a mood so i'm making this post.

I don't think people who have never been fat knows how fucking hard it is to find clothing for bigger bodies.

The first issue is finding stuff in your actual size. Because time after time after time and time again I've gone to a store and they only had small and medium sizes. Not even large. And this was not for a few clothes, no. It was for MOST clothes that I found interesting. And then the ones that were marked as large were simply not big enough.

And I know that the reason for that is that brands simply won't make clothes for fat people. It's that because it surely isn't because the large size is selling out fast. They just don't do it. And some people have the nerve to say 'well brands are not obligated to make sizes for everyone' yeah sure, but also, I can't walk naked on the street can I?

Like I don't get it. 'oh but we want our clothes to fit a especific body' so fucking make clothes that are supposed to fit bigger bodies. Doesn't have a to be a whole ass collection.

And then we get on the second problem which is making clothes for plus size people that are ugly as hell. It's always the same stuff: ugly florals, animal print that belongs in another decade, cold shoulders, that weird extra fabric at the end of a shirt to hide the belly, or just black/muted colors.

Like fun fact. If you have big boobs, the hardest thing in the world is trying to find a bra that comes in a color that isn't white, black or beige. Because trust me, I've spent 3 hours walking in the shopping mall and I couldn't find anything that fit my breasts that was like pink (and in that situation I needed a pink bra for a play).

It feels like most clothes made for plus sized people are designed with like 50+ year old white women in mind, and not even that demographic of people are wearing those clothes (my mom is a plus sized 50+ year old white woman and often talks about how ugly some clothes made for people her size are).

It's hard trying to develop your own sense of style when none of the clothes around you are in your size, and when they do, they are just not good looking to you.

But you wanna know what's the down right worst part? Do you know what fucking brand has clothes that look good and are amde for bigger bodies?

The goddamn cancer on this earth that is Shein.

I fucking hate shein. Fast fashion is killin the fashion industry, they literally have people working as slaves and many influecers buy shein clothes by the bulk only to then throw it in the trash. Shein is awful.

But. Unfortunetly, shein is the only place that I found that had clothes that fit me and looked good. I don't like that. I avoided buying from shein for the longest time ever, but jesus christ, when you can't find clothes anywhere else you get desperate.

I tried looking for other places. I tried looking at my local clothing stores and everything was too small for me. I tried looking at online small bussinesses but they either didn't make my size, or it was sold out, or the prices were very high. Tried looking at thrift stores, also didn't find my size.

I try not to buy too much from shein or to spend long periods of time in between buying, because again, I feel bad about buying there. I don't want to buy from there.

Clothing brands/stores gotta do better. And I don't think that's asking for too much.

#this is less polite as i usually am because i'm so fucking tired of this shit #like these brands make probably millions every year #why is it apparently too much to ask for clothes in bigger sizes????#like idk i think everyone should be able to buy clothes that fit them and look nice???#and like god i don't want anyone to come on here be um actually it's very hard for the clothing industry to be inclusive #bc this post ain't about that #this post is about how frustrating it is to find clothes when you're fat #and also don't come for me bc of where i'm buying some stuff from ok #i feel so fucking guilty every time i buy from there #and like my friends buy from shein like every other week practically #i usually buy from there every 6+ months or so #and it's usually like a dress or two #at least i know that I don't throw clothes in the trash #if there's something here or there that doesn't look amazing but it's workable i'll go to the seamstress #if it doesn't fit me at all (which is a risk that can happen with online shopping) i donate it #and i will wear clothes until i can't wear them anymore #and even when i can't wear them anymore they they are usually still in a good enough condition that i can donate it to charity #or to someone close to my family who might give it a better use #this is a very big rambling sorry about this it's just aaaaaaaaa #i probably should go sleep

7 notes · View notes

zodarii-dae · 1 year

Note

Just finished watching 3rd Life!!!! I was a bit busy so I couldn't do it as quickly as I wanted to but I made it.

I watched Grian's pov as you suggested and holy fuck was that a ride. I have Thoughts.

Grian and Scar. Scar and Grian. Those two shared a braincell and Grian had it for most of the series.

Grian I think had the most kills out of anyone by the end of it??? Guy really thought he could use Scar as an excuse to satiate his bloodlust without losing any lives. He was 100% correct.

Scar had a lot of kills too, didn't he? Especially in the Dogwarts war. Even if he is the goofy boss to Grian's competent right-hand man, it was nice to see him get down to business as well.

"Your Honor, he pleads /j."

I'm focusing a lot on Scar and Grian here, but I would also like to give a shoutout to Jimmy for being the first person out. From what I hear it's pretty on-brand for him and it makes me think Scott was his Grian. For a second I thought it was Cleo tho.

The Battle of the Red Desert was painful to watch lmfao.... Scar pulled the lever, Grian. Wrong time tho.

Can't be good at building without being good at demolition. Grian really likes TNT, doesn't he. Just pray he never improves at redstone, I think it's best his traps stay broken.

I learned from a comment section that Impulse was killed for a clock that belonged to him in the first place. Rough going, buddy.

Scar's second death had me wheezing.... that's how you know he had some sort of plot armor on, no matter what Grian might say, cuz no way in hell did that guy become the first red name and stay alive for 2nd place.

That was the most Canadian fistfight I ever did see. Scar's muscles did not help.

Grian I see is associated with a bird sometimes? I don't know the reason for that but I find it interesting considering he killed himself by jumping off a cliff.

All in all....... yeah I really liked it!!! I have only watched Grian's pov tho, so if you recommend checking out any other POVs, I could do so. Not sure if I'll be able to watch any of the other Life seasons soon, as I might start dipping into, y'know, Hermitcraft/Empires (thanks to you, really!), but we'll see.

This was long. Yeah. Uhhhh Wings of Fire: A Guide To The Dragon World is coming out October I think I read the excerpt I'm excited ok bye-

nice! glad to see you again :D.

desert duo my beloved. absolutely they are two halves of a whole idiot. grian is the designated braincell holder.

grian kills and maims and we love him for it. i love his maniacal laugh whenever he gets a good kill. like a cartoon villain.

scar is goofy and silly and also bloodthirsty. he's so much fun. he can go from himbo to terrifying red life so fast.

yup, very on brand. poor jimmy. scott is kind of his grian? he's definitely the green to his red, and smart to his stupid, but their vibes are pretty different from grian and scar. they're husbands rather than boss and right hand.

i cannot physically express how disappointed i was when the explosion didn't kill anyone.

the real best duo, grian and tnt.

impulse's death... oh i feel so bad for him. you could hear him starting to say bdubs' name as he died. i had to stare at the wall for like five minutes after that scene.

the only reason scar lasted so long was because of grian. if they hadn't teamed up, he would have died much quicker lmao.

oh the fist fight. oh the cactus ring. oh god.

grian is usually depicted as a parrot hybrid. i'm not sure why, i think it started as a hermitcraft fandom thing that bled into his other stuff. people often fannonized as birds falling to death is one of my favorite things. i can't get enough of it.

if you want to watch more povs, i would recommend martyn or scott. martyn's is good if you want to understand the dogwarts side of things, and scott's is just one of my favorites.

i haven't watched any hermitcraft myself, but i plan to one of these days. empires is one of my favorite smps, and really what got me back into mcyt. if you ever do get around to watching the other life series, i think you'd enjoy them!

i'm also very excited for the guidebook! i haven't read the excerpt though.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #life series #life smp #3l smp #3rd life #3rd life smp #zdae speaks #eggnog asks

40 notes · View notes

the-eldritch-it-gay · 30 days

Note

Hello! I was thinking that companion!Étoile would, with some familiarity, want to ask Majexatli about their solitary worship of Malar, since so many Malarites live in nomadic bands of werebeasts, and whether they felt that: because it was alone that they found their god's favor that it was alone they must stay, or whether it was because they felt that they would not be accepted by lyncathropes, not being one of them — though this could be remedied with combat or ritual if it was truly a divide (and Étoile would speculate that the way Majexatli's blessing manifests would be awe-inspiring to those with deeper understandings of these things), or if it was because Majexatli felt better than their peers and that how they were living was a true devotion or expression of bloody chaos, or if Majexatli had been living in their happiest circumstances before the nautiloid, giving their solitude no thought or de-prioritizing finding other ways to live because of joy or comfort?

They would be thinking of how their mother, saved by Auril, had never felt compelled to seek out cultures that worshipped the same (she feels her worship is right for her (generally) and more correct than others (often but not always)). And they would be thinking of themself, othered in most circumstances, but wanting to understand their own relationship to their god through a better understanding of people and the world.

If this ask makes you uncomfortable for any reason, please feel free to ignore!

Ohohohoho, this is a great question!

I think Majexatli has remained solitary for a few reasons.

One is that it's reflective of the fact that they themselves feel like they don't belong anywhere. There's many things influencing this, yeah? For one, they've never themselves had any sort of support system or family or community. As a young child they were passed around foster care, when they ran away they lived on their own for years, and once they became a druid, even though they were surrounded by others, they never were truly seen as part of the community, they were forever an outsider. For better or for worse (though mostly for worse), solitude has become the most familiar to them. While they could have tried to seek out other Malarites, they spent so much of their young life learning that they're on their own in the world and can only rely on themselves.

And to your point about worrying of not being accepted, I think there is the worry that if they weren't accepted, then there truly was no place for them in the world, perhaps in avoiding other Malarites, they can avoid that fear. But also, in avoiding other Malarites, they can live in the not knowing. The way one might put off going to a doctor for a concerning symptom, because the not knowing might be easier to deal with than the potential answer.

And I think in general they do worry that they might not be accepted, because Majexatli tends to deal with imposter syndrome in feeling like they're a fraud somehow. With Malar, there's a few things that fuel that feeling, the fact that they were a worshiper of Silvanus, they were a druid and faithwarden, the fact that they have some compassion and kindness that might not be always in line with Malar, and the fact that they aren't a true lycanthrope but their shapeshifting comes from their druidic powers that they're reluctent to give up.

Another part of it I think comes from their Silvanus background, strangely enough. In leaving Silvanus, they've almost over corrected and tried to distance themselves as much as they can from him. Being in a community and worshipping together was something they did with Silvanus, so they instinctually avoided it with their Malar worship. Another point in regard to Silvanus is that their issue with Silvanus was more or less Silvanus' neutrality and what they percieved as inaction and centrism. Given that, they hold very high importance with their personal connection to Malar

I think if Étoile shared about their mother, Majexatli might relate a bit to her. They were saved by Malar, they think Malar worship is the right path for them, but they don't necessarily see their way of worship as being correct. Their focus on their own solitary worship of Malar is because they think that's the right way for them, and that they need the personal-ness that they never got with Silvanus.

I also think that Étoile's view of wanting to understand their own relationship to their god through a better understanding of people and the world would be interesting to Majexatli, right? It's kinda novel concept and I think Majexatli would think that it's interesting. I think Majexatli would benefit from looking a bit more at other people and the world, they just have never truly done that because as mentioned they only ever had themselves for most of their entire life.

(As a tangent, just something that I thought of in lines with Majexatli only ever having themselves, I think that while Majexatli is in general optimistic, I do think they are slightly jaded and disillusioned but they don't quite realize. They've been alone nearly their whole life and faced isolation and being othered everywhere they went, and as much as they would like to think that it didn't have a negative effect on them, it did. They tend to assume the worst of people and believe that the world is a terrible and unkind place. It's just harder to notice them being bitter because they push themselves to help people in spite of it. Perhaps though it's in part fueled by their hatred of the balance, much like Minthara said, the balance is an excuse for stagnation. Majexatli believes the world to be terrible and people terrible, but to accept that is too close to the neutrality of the balance and upholding the status quo.)

#Eldritch IT Answers #omgkalyppso #eldritch it speaks #oc: majexatli #i hope this is coherent sjdkfshkdfjksfsdk #anyways I am [vibrates]#i love imaging Étoile and Majexatli talking :)

6 notes · View notes

bluewinnerangel · 2 years

Note

can you talk about change pls i need more change love and analysis in my life

I know of a couple of Change analyses here and I think I'll just end up repeating a lot of what's already said if I'll just do a full reading but BUT what's not part of those analyses is it in the context of FITF (you know since he played it well before we had the album). Soooo I wanna use this ask to highlight a bit of the lyrics weaving magic that goes on within FITF, taking Change as a handle and somewhat match other lyrics? I think that might result in some fun stuff to break our brains over.

I don't think we have the official lyrics of Change, just so you know some of these words may be wrong I can't be sure. Also these parallels often just hold the same theme and said theme is everywhere (I mean, change and time and being the same they're just always everywhere constantly) so they're paired up with a line in Change in this thing but they all just belong together in one big piece of coherent work and not so literal in the one-on-one I'm writing down here but it does the job I think:

Change x FITF:

Time of our lives, it's easy to see / We were just getting by but we were complete

To me the most obvious parallel is with Common People:

I came from a good home / A house full of terrace dreams / That was enough for me / You know you had to see it to believe / All the late nights / Good times - Common People

and again the next verse, perhaps even worse:

No deep pockets / But big hearts / Do you see what I see / Now we’re all screaming on the dance floor - Common People

And more:

We’re going out to end up somewhere we’ll regret / Cos in this town it’s easy to forget - That's the way love goes (easy to have a good time)

Do you see what I see - Common People & She's Beauty We Are World Class

Lately, lately it’s been so easy to see my life completed instead of half way full - Paradise

Gonna cut here because it's gonna be a few scrolls:

Fun that it starts with "time", because that's EVERYWHERE. Out of 21 songs (16 deluxe +paradise +copy +saved by a stranger + high in california + change), 17 have the word "time" in them. 17.... Yes we're doing it. This is literally every time(lol) the word time shows up, rather than the theme of time, because that's more than this (you know when you stare at a word too long and you forget its meaning yeah get ready):

Said I had a plan for us / Time it came and changed it all / We had to disappear - The Greatest

Before the world it got so serious / Before the time it got away from us - Lucky Again

Let’s buy some time / For what we shouldn’t do / I don’t wanna face the music / But I still wanna dance with you - Face the Music

They "say bitter ends turn sweet in time", is that true of yours and mine? - Chicago

Just have patience / It’s not how you spend the time / It’s if you waste it - All This Time

The friends we make / the love it takes / is worth it all this time - All This Time

I only wanna go faster towards disaster every time - Out of my system

Maybe if you’d taken more time / I’d still be the one you wanna talk to every night - Headline

I've been wondering about what you're up to / Not for the first time / Not for the last time / And I've been thinking 'bout the things we used to do / Not for the first time / Not for the last time - Saturdays

You know it’s times like these we’re so much happier - silver tongues

You smile at me and say It’s time to go but I don’t feel like going home - silver tongues

Sit down sit down in the space and time - She's Beauty we are world class

All the late nights and the good times - Common People

There’s a time for saying who did what / Where it went wrong I wanna hear all that /But right now all I need you to know is / You’ll be ok we can talk tomorrow / I’m on my way with some time to borrow - Angels Fly

And time can always heal ya / If you let it make its way into your bones - Holding on to Heartache

Pick up the phone cos now it’s time you learnt to say that's the way love goes - That’s the way love goes

Remember when you told me I should give it time? - That’s the way love goes

that she changed me for the better by the time that I was coming ‘round - Saved By A Stranger

I wanna be in California smoke some weed outside in the summertime - High In California (I mean I had to)

Time of our lives, it's easy to see - Change

Now it's time to realize you don't get another life - Change

It hasn't been long that I've been away I don't know why everything's changed

tumblr is being weird with the formatting but everytime i try to fix it it just gets weirder so egh well leave it

Still on the same parallel we started with but now it's the opposite? kinda?:

When I get lost I go back to where I started / Common people / Nothing's changed - Common People

There are a lot of things being away from other things throughout but I don't think I'd be able to list em all if I tried, but here's an attempt:

You give and give until it’s gone away / Just tell yourself you’ve got another day / You’ve lived that life you just don’t see it yet - Lucky Again

Before the world it got so serious / Before the time it got away from us - Lucky Again

Has it been long enough that you can forgive me? - Chicago (as a whole really

I think she’s moved on mate it’s almost been a year / We haven’t seen you yeah we’ve given you your space - that's the way love goes

Saturdays take the pain away - but really Saturdays as a whole

put the pain behind you now, you don't need it anymore - Away from the pain again in Angels Fly

But the truth is, I/you still doubt / That what I/you do can get me/you home - All This time

We had to disappear / Cos nothing gets through here - the greatest

With me, I know you wanna come with me / Take anything you can carry /And leave everythin' else behind - Out Of My system

Sometimes I wake up and I wish you were beside me - Headline

It's time to go but I don't feel like going home - Silver Tongues

'Cause inside we're still the kings of the Friday nights Silver streets and the neon signs

This makes me happy-angry. hangry?. I don't know how else to put it:

Air max’s and silver tongues / Settle in for another heavy one - Silver Tongues

I love all the things you know but I’m king on a 50 metre road - Silver Tongues

I'm not supposed to be feeling dirty cheap on silver street at quarter to three - Saturdays (+the friday night melting into the saturdays that take the pain away)

You said I’m holding on to heartache / You said I wear it like a crown - holding On To Heartache ( about that king )

Everything's changed outside, sometimes I wonder why

When somebody told me I would change / I used to hide behind a smile / When somebody told me I would change / I was afraid I don't know why / Cos so does the world outside / I've realised - Bigger than Me (let's also add the next line: didn't read the signs, because last line of Change we had neon signs asdsdf)

If you need you can call on me, I'll be the friend you need

Cos if you’re lonely in Chicago you can call me (baby) - Chicago

I’ll knock on your door it’ll save me from calling / I won’t say a word It can wait ‘til the morning - Angels Fly

The nights they change in seasons / Become the strangest days / I called you twice but then regretted it / And changed my number - Holding On To Heartache (nights - changing - calling)

We haven’t seen you yeah we’ve given you your space / Pick up the phone cos now it’s time - That's The Way Love Goes (he's being the friend needed <3 )

Everything's changed outside, but I feel the same inside

Saturdays take the pain away / But nobody stays the same / No matter how much you want it / Some things change - Saturdays

Spend my whole life just thinking I had to change - High In California

The kids are alright / That used to be me Always losing our minds / Out on the street

I think this is described in Silver Tongues, being in the middle of the losing of their minds out on the street lol

And I choked when your smoke got in my eye / Bad logic and empty cans // You said grass was a dirty drug / You like to preach with vodka in your mug / I love all the things you know / But I’m king on a 50 metre road / We stand up tall and beat our chest / Shout some things that we’ll regret / Sit down with a master plan / I know nobody understands me like you do / You know it’s times like these we’re so much happier / Nights like these we’ll remember those stupid jokes only we know // You smile at me and say It’s time to go but I don’t feel like going home // You and me until the end / Waking up to start again - Silver Tongues yes I just basically pasted the whole song

A trip down memory lane, houses all look the same

Screams in Silver Tongues MV

Yeah I'm gonna use this as an excuse to paste any and all "home"s and "house"s in FITF:

But the truth is I/you still doubt that what I/you do can get me/you home when it gets cold - All This time

You smile at me and say It’s time to go but I don’t feel like going home - Silver Tongues

I came from a good home / A house full of terrace dreams - Common People

There's different names on the gates You know the people have changed It's such a shame, nothing stays the same

Common people / Nothing’s changed / You’ll hear strangers singing you name / If you act like you’re one of us - Common People (This. Is. Such. An. Interesting. Parallel.)

[When you gonna/now it's time to] realize [you/we] don't get another life? Always overanalyze, what's the point? I know it'll be alright [You've/we] still got the rest of [your life/our lives] We're [all/still] the same inside

Realizing you don't got another life / having the life you choose kinda waters:

Then made my way back to a life I would choose - Lucky Again

I just wanna stay in the moment the rest of my life / one more night I'm gonna choose I don't wanna face the music but I still wanna dance with you - Face The Music

Have you seen how my life’s been going? Cos i’ve been wondering what you’d say / Would you have told me to keep going or would you say to walk away? - Chicago

I am only half of what I think I can be / Gotta get it out of my system / Gotta get it off of my chest / I've lived a lot of my life already / But I gotta get through the rest - Out Of My System

With me, I know you wanna come with me / Take anything you can carry / And leave everythin' else behind - Out Of My system

And I/you keep on building mountains hoping that they’ll turn to gold / But the truth is I/you still doubt that what I/you do can get me/you home when it gets cold - All This Time (building the life / what happens when it changes, overanalyzing, not sure it'll be alright, but then: )

Together we’re the greatest / We’ll never be that cold again / No falling all to pieces / We’re the greatest / It’s you and me until the end / Life for us is never over - The Greatest

All being the same inside waters:

So come on call me liar / Yeah you're so quick to judge / Cos yeah I might have changed / But everybody does - Bigger Than Me

when you're just like me- Bigger Than Me

Are we one or are we two? Are we me or are we you? Have we been all this before / do you see what I see? - She's Beauty We Are World Class

common people / just act like you're one of us - Common People

So let this be your comfort / You're not the only one, no /In a strange way, all in this together / Been this way forever, you're not the only one - COAC

Getting high on the amber wave / Going deep for the ones who do the same // I know nobody understands me like you do - Silver Tongues

Our eyes meet and I can tell that you’re the same as me - All This Time

#if youre wondering wtf how long did this take you #i have a word file and i make good efficient use of it sljsklskjs

51 notes · View notes

i-have-dragon-age-brainrot · 2 days

Text

"You would have been better off if you were just normal like Carver."

Personal/Rambling Stuff

Anyway, these pictures aren't all that good. They're not all that well done, but then I only drew them for emotional reasons so, I'm okay with that. I'm also sure someone, if not a lot of people, have done this before, but I'm okay with that, too.

Anyway, if you couldn't tell, this line wormed its way into my heart and gutted me in my first run of DA2 for... well, for a lot of reasons. Outside of the in game events, it's mostly but not all to do with mental illness/neurodivergence and how it's affected my life. (Not saying that for a pity party, it could have worse but it could have been better and all, it's just a thing that is). Basically, I know I'm not the only one who saw the Tranquil in this game and, despite knowing how horrible it was, saw a dark allure to it. It's something I've felt for most of my life, the urge to just... turn off everything about myself that's weird/hurtful/just... wrong, either to myself or others, but the feeling was especially strong at the time, going through one of the worst episodes of my life (not going into specifics but I'm just glad I didn't die or get forced into an institution). I kept thinking of how, if given the chance, I might just beg to be Tranquil. No feelings, no care for myself or what happens? No differences to keep me from being what others wanted? Yeah. Yeah it was... compelling. Sure, it meant no autonomy or happiness, but it also meant no more pain, and no more causing pain. It meant no more confusion, no more lashing out or caring when I was lashed out at. And I've never been the best with autonomy anyway. It meant everything about me that was different and wrong being tamped down until it could be ignored and controlled and maybe, just maybe, didn't hurt anymore. In a horrible crushing way, it meant being a better person. Being nothing meant not being anything Wrong. Being nothing is better than not being enough. I got to thinking, yet again, about how if I'd just been normal, life would have been easier. I'd be at home in my skin. I'd have a stable sense of identity. There wouldn't be this... clear but palpable barrier between myself and everything else. I'd be Good. I'd be Correct and Right. I'd belong. So many bad things might not have happened. So much wouldn't have been lost. I've lost count of the number of times I've tried to numb myself, to be nothing for my own good and for that of others. I can't. No one can, but don't you see the appeal?

So yeah, that's why it got to me. Then of course there's how my Hawke would have been feeling over the course of The Everything (which is also pretty relatable to me but that's beside the point). I dunno I just got to thinking of how a mage Hawke is so often met with, at best, conditional acceptance, even by people who call them a friend (or more than that, depending on how you play things), how often they're looked at as 'one of the good ones', how sometimes that seems to be a sincerely held sentiment but if you've ever been 'one of the good ones', you know you're just a toe out of line away from being one of The Bad Ones that must be Dealt With. That, coupled with how magic in general is blamed for problems in the setting, and how often Hawke is blamed for what happens in their family. Even if at times it's people's views being colored by trauma or them lashing out in the moment, it would still be... a lot. It would worm itself into you and be hard to pull out, especially in a world where a lot of people wouldn't want you to pull it out.

I'm doing better now than I was then. If normal is a clear sky I've always got clouds and varying intensities of rain, but it could be a hurricane again, so I'm alright. I would have been better off if I'd just been normal, but that's not all my fault, and it's just something I have to deal with. And who knows, maybe the sky will clear someday.

So yeah anyway here. Tranquil Hawke (well, basing it off how I make him look anyway) and a million things that a million people have already said that's all meant nothing. I'm gonna go bury myself now bye.

Also, what's more ass? The sunburst symbol in this or the chantry itself? Oh who am I kidding this whole thing is ass I'm going to reblog 5644773377 memes to hide it.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age fanart #da2 #da2 fanart #original posts

3 notes · View notes

revelisms · 11 months

Note

(for the wip tag game thing)

Hi! It was a tough choice cause several of your titles did catch my eye but after thinking it through, I'd like to know more about fate is a sundress, ripped at the thigh. It's both so mysterious and evocative? Having no idea what to expect makes me really curious!

cw: major character death, grief, self-loathing

Aaa thank you! I'm excited to chat about this one, as it's one of my favorites :-)

As you probably gathered from the warnings—in summary, this is a grief fic that explores the ways Jinx is trying to process Silco's death (or, rather, is unable to let go of her ideas of him, even though she's trying).

The title comes from Haley Heynderickx's 'Show You a Body,' which just slapped me in the face on my first listen with a visual of Jinx in the aftermath of the last episode. It's a haunting, angry and beautiful track about backing away from a relationship that has wrecked one's perception of themself, or actively letting a dysfunctional relationship go—and throughout it, there's this thread of self-resentment that feels so Jinx?

Chasing the flood You opened the gate Swarmed by the hornets' nest To cover my eyes I showed you a body Like a cluttered garage I am humbled by breaking down

She's floating between memory and reality throughout the fic—and, mainly, just angry at the world and herself for ripping her own source of stability away from her. Because as much as Silco was an enabler—and, in many ways, a negative influence on her psyche—as a father, he was also her rock, and he understood her, and he made her feel safe. Made her feel like she belonged somewhere—to someone.

And without that? Without him, or Vi, now?

Well. She has Sevika, and Singed, and the remnants of Silco's "things"—the ghost of him she can keep in his office, his music, his clothes, his cigars. She has the river. She, begrudgingly, still has herself.

She comes to the Pilt so often, these days. There's no magic in the waters: nothing left of the color and the chaos of their city's oil-slick lifeblood beating her bloodied fists on and on (the world's dead and gone and he's dead dead dead again, dead and gone with it—) It's only her, her tattered fists battered open and raging: kicking rocks from the shores and pitching fits and wailing with their city's eerie, misplaced mourning: standing like a wraith at the edge of the water, where he'd been rebirthed, and rebirthed her, and where she'd let him go. She hadn't wanted to let him go.

On top of all that conflict with her own grief, she just has a lot of regrets. He saw her as good enough—but even after it all, how could she be? She only has the proof of her failures to cling to.

Don't cry, he'd told her, smoke and iron on his breath—but she'd cried and cried like a wretch, cried like she had into the puddles of the cannery yard, hard enough to crumple her in two. She'd called him a betrayer, a deserter, and he'd called her his daughter. She'd punched three bullets through his heart, and he'd told her she was perfect.

More than likely, the main thing this is going to unpack is the nuances of Jinx's relationship with Sevika (who isn't quite the mentor she wants, but may, in some ways, be the mentor she needs) and with Singed (who she wants to be Silco, so badly; wants to hear his intellect and charm and dry grumblings come out of, but who just isn't enough—but almost is).

So. Yeah. All up in my emotions for this fic, and it's very unfinished.

(TTvTT)b

11 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 2 years

Text

Danger First Chapter 11

@pocketramblr It has been a very long time since the last instalment, but... Here we go!

(AO3)

As soon as Yagi and Midoriya were gone, Shouta picked up his phone and called Nezu. It took him an embarrassingly long time to hit the buttons right. Maybe he should take those painkillers more often.

"I don't get paid enough for this," he said, as soon as Nezu picked up.

Nezu tittered. "The paperwork for your raise is already underway."

The reprieve Mr. Aizawa had bought them only lasted so long. No one gathered by their door the next day, but they could all feel eyes on them when they sat down for a subdued lunch.

Izuku could especially feel eyes on himself, because all of his classmates were also looking at him.

"W-What are you all looking at me for?” he asked, ending his sentence with a nervous giggle.

“Well,” said Ashido, “you seem to notice when things are going to happen, so…”

That wasn’t untrue.

“Yeah!” said Kaminari, excitedly, standing up and slamming his hand down on the table. “You’re like a canary in a coal mine! Class 1-A’s early warning system!”

The class took a moment to stare at Kaminari instead.

“Didn’t those, like, die?” asked Hagakure. “From inhaling poisonous gasses or something?”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sorry, Midoriya.”

“It-It’s okay!” said Izuku, waving his hands. He felt another blush creeping over his cheeks. “I mean, I’m not sure how accurate, or- or sensitive I am, though, so there’s, you know, I don’t know how much I’m actually noticing, I could be missing a lot, especially if--” He cut himself off. His heart felt like it had stopped.

“HEY, DEKU!”

Oh, so it was only the usual threat to his life. Izuku looked over his shoulder to where, yep, there was Kacchan, pointing at him from the other side of the cafeteria. He turned back around and buried his face in his hands.

“The usual threat to his life, he says,” muttered En.

“He did not say it out loud, he only thought it.”

“Thanks, Hikage.”

“What’s wrong with that boy?” asked Yoichi, frowning deeply.

“Anxiety.”

“It’s Super Anxiety.”

“Thanks, Hikage, but I wasn’t talking about Izuku.”

“ARE YOU IGNORING ME, CANON FODDER?”

He sure was going to die today, huh.

“Who is he shouting at?” asked Uraraka around the spoon in her mouth.

“I am unsure!” said Iida. “It would appear he has mistaken us for someone he knows!”

Ashido made a face. “Someone he knows that he’s calling ‘Deku?’ That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Ha! This is why 1-A is the superior class! We would never have someone who behaved so uncouthly as to--”

Kirishima stood up. “HEY, MAN, NO ONE HERE IS CALLED THAT! I THINK YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG GUY?” He looked down. “Or do you think Deku might be a girl?”

“Sit down, you’re embarrassing us,” hissed Monoma.

This, of course, cued Kacchan to sprint across the cafeteria, vaulting the tables in between. He grabbed Izuku by the shoulder, dragged him out of his seat and spun him around. “What d’you think you’re doing, Deku, goin’ off and fighting villains like you think you’re-- Wah!”

Uraraka had slapped Kacchan across the face, and, because he had let go of Izuku in response, he was now floating in the vicinity of the light fixtures. Kacchan’s shocked expression transmuted into one of pure rage. His glare at Izuku promised a world of hurt.

“No, seriously, what’s his problem? Didn’t Izuku save his life?”

“I don’t know, but I do remember some tension at the school when we were still getting oriented in here,” said Nana, propping her chin up with her fist. “Maybe it’s related to that?”

“Maybe it’s a tsundere thing,” suggested Hikage.

“Seems sort of extreme for that,” said En.

“I will get a teacher!” said Iida, before a giant hand appeared in his way.

“Don’t bother,” said a new voice, belonging to the giant hand and a sporty-looking girl with a ponytail. “Hey, Blasty, don’t forget what Mr. Vlad said about not using your quirk!”

“Does it look like I’m using my quirk, you big-handed--”

“Ah,” said Yaoyorozu, ignoring Kacchan’s rather crude response with enviable ease, “Kendo. How are you?”

“Doing great,” said Kendo. “Looking forward to seeing you guys pulling out all the stops to try and beat us.”

“Try?” exclaimed Monoma. “More like succeed! We have real experience now, after all!”

“Shut up, combover!” shouted Kacchan. “You’re all gonna lose! I’m aiming for the top and I don’t care about your crappy delusions!”

“Combover!” squawked Monomoa, hands coming up to cover his hair. “You take that back!”

“Oh, you have an aggressive blond, too.”

Yaoyorozu sighed. “I suppose we do.”

The awe Izuku felt at the situation (Bakugo, stuck floating) was sadly eclipsed by the crowd of people they’d gathered.

“Erm,” said Kaminari, “is it just me, or are they all looking at us?”

“Of course they’re looking at you, moron!” yelled Kacchan from his place near the ceiling. “They’re wondering how someone so idiotic could survive a villain attack!”

“I mean,” said a voice from the crowd, “that’s true.”

A tall boy with purple hair shouldered his way to the front and tilted his head back to look at Kacchan.

“We’re here to take a look at the competition. But I’ve got to say, I’m disappointed if this is what kids in the hero course are like.” He lowered his gaze to sweep across the 1-A table. “Those of us who didn’t make it to the Hero course are stuck in General Studies and other tracks. There’s quite a few of us, did you know that? Depending on the results of the sports festival, they might consider transferring us into the Hero course. I understand the reverse is also possible. For a General Studies kid like me, this is the perfect chance to--”

“Oh!” interrupted Kaminari. “That’s great, man! We have an open seat. You’ll be perfect. You’re even purple. You can replace the rancid purple guy we got rid of.”

“A much better purple than the last purple,” said Sero.

“A MANLY purple,” added Kirishima.

“A superior purple,” sparkled Aoyama

“Assuming he isn’t secretly a perv,” said Jirou.

“He’s already had a longer clean conversation with us than the grape kid did,” Mina pointed out.

“What?” said the purple boy, wisely backing away.

“What a mad banquet of darkness,” mumbled Tokoyami.

Iida strode to the purple boy in an alarming, robotic sort of way. “As vice-president of class 1-A, I would like to welcome you to the hero course!” He punctuated his greeting with hand chops.

“That’s kind of premature,” said Nana, “isn’t it? It sounds like he has to do well in the competition, first.”

“Ha!” said Banjo. “I think he’ll do just fine. He’s clearly primarily motivated by spite.”

“So, all he needs to make a win possible is friendship and anxiety,” said Yoichi, nodding gravely. “He will surely be the greatest obstacle to Izuku’s nonetheless inevitable victory in the sports festival. Later, he will become an invaluable ally.”

“Are you basing this off some manga you read, or…?”

“Off my observations of our lives.”

“Ah. Continue, then.”

“Gladly!”

“Uh, guys?” said Uraraka. When Izuku turned to look at her, her face was slightly green. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep him up there…”

This was when Kacchan reached the light fixture, put his feet against it, and shoved off, rocketing straight for Izuku. Izuku bolted. This was, apparently, the correct decision, because Kacchan bolted right after him.

Sadly, Izuku’s daily runs focused more on endurance than speed and agility, and Kacchan was fast. Although maybe that was just the lack of gravity to slow him down. Either way, Izuku didn’t make the first corner, Kacchan slamming into him and pinning him against the opposite wall.

“Alright, you quirkless twerp,” growled Kacchan, “I don’t know who you bribed to get in here, but let’s get one thing straight, I’m better than you.”

“Okay, you know what I said about bribery? I take it back. I don’t want to have the same opinion as this kid.”

“HA!” crowed Yoichi, pointing at Banjo. “That’s right, Izuku got in on his own merits.”

“You keep going like this, you dare keep standing in the same place I am, after I warned you to go someplace else, then at the sports festival…” Kacchan straightened and leered down at Izuku. “I’ll crush you. I’ll mess you up so bad that no one will ever mistake you for a hero. So, why don’t you run away, you crybaby freak?”

“Holy crap,” said Banjo.

“Seconded,” said En.

“What?” called Second, from where he and Third were still sulking.

“No one’s talking to you!” Yoichi shouted back, throwing an imaginary brick at them. It unraveled before it got halfway to them.

“UA has really declined if they’re letting people like this in,” said Nana. “I’m glad Toshinori is here to clean it up.”

“Look, I love Eighth, too,” started Yoichi.

“What?” called Second, again.

“Since when have we called you Two? Go away! As I was saying, I also love Eighth with all my heart--”

“Do we have hearts?” asked Hikage.

“It’s a metaphor. Eighth is great for cleaning up corruption on the streets - even in the government and police force, sometimes! - but he’s… let’s say, under-equipped for the educational world.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who’d never seen a teacher before.”

“I’ve seen teachers before!”

Izuku gritted his teeth even as his lips wobbled… and tears started running down his face… and some snot, too… Okay, he was a mess. Still, he twisted so he could grab Bakugo’s wrist and squeezed.

According to the grip strength test in the quirk assessment, his grip strength was above average.

“S-someone,” he said, “someone told me I could be a hero, and that’s w-why, that’s why I’m not going to run away just because you said so! I’m going to be here, no matter what, Kacchan!”

Kacchan’s face darkened. “You--”

Kacchan was pulled back. Izuku’s friends had caught up with them.

“Chasing someone down in the hall? This is just the kind of rude, uncivilized behavior I’d expect from someone in class B!”

“Not to agree with Monoma,” said Hagakure, “but, yeah! Apologize to Midoriya!”

“What are you? An invisible gorilla? Get off before I--”

“And that’s enough of that,” said Mr. Aizawa, coming into view, his hair floating. Iida was behind him, chopping at the air with both hands. “Bakugo. Monoma. Hagakure. Midoriya. Let go of each other.”

Hagakure, Monoma, and Izuku all let go of Kacchan at the same time. Unfortunately, Kacchan was unbalanced enough that their hold on him and his grip on Izuku were the only things keeping him up. He fell down. He had not let go of Izuku. Hagakure, Monoma, and the other 1-A members who had made it to the hall, rushed to support Izuku, and then…

Well, it was a bit of a scramble.

“This is just painful to watch,” said Nana.

“Funny, though,” said En. “I hope someone steps on the blond kid again.”

When they finally managed to straighten themselves out, Mr. Aizawa looked much like he had immediately following Izuku and Mr. Yagi’s explanation about One for All. That is, he looked like he was seriously questioning his life choices.

“Yaoyorozu, Kendo,” said Mr. Aizawa. “Explain to me what happened here.”

Izuku braced himself for detention. He’d thought he was doing so well, too!

Izuku did not get detention. Huh.

Shouta stepped into his empty classroom and picked the nearest security camera. “Forget the raise, I want an investigation into Aldera Middle School.” He’d meant to look into it before now, but he also hadn’t meant to get beaten to a pulp by a bunch of crazy villains, one of which may have had his dead best friend’s quirk.

“You are allowed to have both, you realize,” said Nezu over the intercom.

But did he deserve both, that was the question.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Nezu. “If it helps, think of it as less of a raise, and more of a stipend for the therapy you will need!”

“Why would that help?”

They filed onto the field for heroics several minutes before the class was due to start. Izuku hoped that those minutes would be enough for him to calm down. His heart was still going rabbit-fast.

“Are you sure you do not need to go to Recovery Girl?” asked Iida.

“Yeah, that was pretty…” Uraraka trailed off. “It was scary. I didn’t think there’d be anyone here like that.”

“You mean anyone with a steamed turd masquerading as a personality?” asked Kaminari. “There’s hot-headed, and then there’s villainous, and I know what side of the line that guy was on.”

“K-Kacchan’s not a villain! He- He’ll be a great hero,” said Izuku, shoulders slumping. “Someday.”

The silence was oppressive. And possibly judgemental.

“So, you all agree with me, then, that we need to absolutely crush 1-B in the sports festival?” asked Monoma, flicking imaginary dust off his suit.

“Well, sure,” said Hagakure. “But there’s only one winner. We’re going to be competing against each other.”

“Oh, contrary, my friend--”

“It’s au contraire,” said Aoyama.

“Sure,” said Monoma. “There’s only one winner for the final event. The other two? Not so much. I say we use that to our advantage! Show 1-B - and especially that cretin Bakugo - our unity and conviction! Prove to them that we are the superior hero students! We will reign supreme over the first two events of the sports festival.”

“That’s a freakishly hypercompetitive way to put it,” said Kaminari, “but he’s got a point.”

“Of course I do! We just need to make a plan and victory will be ours!”

“How are we supposed to do that?” asked Sero, crossing his arms and tugging slightly at his elbows. “The events are secret until the day of. If we don’t know what we’re going to be doing, we don’t even know if we can cooperate. The events are random every year!”

“We might not know what the events are exactly, but there’s- there’s a pattern,” said Izuku. He’d never really thought about the kinds of events too deeply, but he’d watched and analyzed the UA sports festival for years and years. “The first event is always kind of a free-for-all, with everyone from our year. It’s supposed to eliminate most of the competition, usually only the hero course and a few others get in. Then, the second event is usually something team based, like a relay or a game. The final event is the only one where individuals go head-to-head, because that’s when you need a clear winner and runners-up.”

“Exactly, Midoriya, exactly! Who’s with me?”

“I’m in,” said Kaminari. There was a smattering of other agreements.

Izuku wanted to say yes, but… He glanced over at Uraraka and Iida. He wasn’t the only one. Uraraka caught his eye and elbowed Iida. His armor made a hollow clanging noise and Uraraka hissed and held her elbow.

“Uraraka, are you--?” She jerked her head at him. “What?”

“You’re kind of the rules guru, man,” said Kaminari. “I think most of them are waiting to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh! Yes! Teamwork is an important part of heroism! I cannot imagine that they would ban us from cooperating to attain success!”

“I agree,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Y-yes!” said Izuku. “Me, too!”

From there, everyone else agreed. Except for one student. Todoroki stood apart from the group, facing away from them.

“Todoroki!” called Monoma. “Will you join us?”

Todoroki looked back at them, coldly. “I’m going to win myself, without anyone else’s power.” He turned away again, the wind picking up a few stray leaves and blowing them across the space in between them.

“Wow,” said Kirirshima, “manly.”

“I don’t understand how that kid thinks.”

“I don’t think you understand how anyone thinks.”

Yoichi frowned. “That’s just unnecessary.”

“Isn’t he just gay?” asked En.

“That does seem to be the easiest explanation,” agreed Hikage.

“That can’t be it,” said Yoichi, “I’m gay.”

“I thought you were bisexual,” said Nana.

“I thought he was ace,” said Banjo.

“...I contain multitudes.”

Izuku hung back after school for extra training with Mr. Yagi. Working with Gran Torino had helped a lot, but Float was still difficult for him to turn on and off at will. He could do it, but he was slow.

He did like the grappling hook, though.

He liked it a lot.

(He really needed to go talk to Hatsume and thank her for the literally life-saving piece of equipment. Especially with the sports festival coming up… he had some ideas…)

The gym they were in was designed with base three-dimensional mobility quirk training in mind. High ceiling, lots of things to grab onto, various optional obstacles, but everything was padded. Quirks that needed a lot of space to reach their full potential rarely got a lot of practice. ‘Private property’ was usually a confined space. Especially in a city.

Even so, Izuku was feeling… Inadequate.

“You’re making wonderful progress, young Midoriya. You’ve had this quirk for less than a month. Give yourself time.”

“But I’ve seen videos of your teacher!” said Izuku, trying to propel himself towards the wall. “She could fly.” He managed to flip himself upside down, but did not move horizontally. “Fast.”

“Wasn’t that just--”

“The stockpiled power? Haha. Yeah,” said Nana. “I did love how it improved my quirk.”

“Wait a second,” said En, rolling off the throne he’d constructed for himself. “If Nine doesn’t have access to the enhanced versions of your quirks now, what’s going to happen when he does get the stockpile? Will his head just explode from the anxiety?”

“Super anxiety.”

“Hikage, if you don’t have something productive to say,” started Banjo, half jokingly, half threateningly.

“I believe he does have the enhanced version of my quirk,” said Hikage. “As for Float…” He shrugged.

“You’d better not be implying anything about my quirk,” said Nana. She sighed. “It has only been about a week since he got it. Getting to the point where I could really move with it took a long time.”

“You can do it, Izuku!” cheered Yoichi. “I believe in you! Blow Nana’s time out of the water!”

“And she had her quirk for a lifetime,” said Mr. Yagi. “Try to get upright again, and then see if you can drop and catch yourself. Ah, I remember the first time I saw my teacher use something like that as a finishing move. An ax kick from a couple of stories up.” He shook his head. “It was quite remarkable. Ahem. Not that you should try that without more training… Or on your classmates at the festival… We don’t need any maiming.”

“That guy had it coming,” said Nana.

“Mhm,” said Izuku. He turned Float off, and tried to switch it back on before he hit the ground. He wasn’t quite able to reactivate it in time. He sighed and picked himself up. “At least this is good practice for falling.”

“So it is,” said Mr. Yagi. He checked his clipboard, which contained a legal pad and a singular sheet of loose leaf covered in Gran Torino’s distinctive handwriting. “Perhaps we should try some timed trials here on ground levels before we try that again. Just Float on and off as quickly as possible.”

Izuku made a face. He wanted to go faster, get better. But he nodded easily enough and caught the timer Mr. Yagi threw at him.

“Whenever you turn float off or on, hit the ‘lap’ button. That should make it so all your times are recorded.”

“Okay,” he said, turning on both Float and the timer. “Um. Mr. Yagi?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“I was wondering, do you remember your first sports festival?”

Mr. Yagi frowned. “You aren’t still worried about, erm…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Living up to my overinflated reputation, are you?”

Izuku gasped. “Your reputation isn’t overinflated!”

“Alas, everything about All Might is puffed up and full of smoke!”

Izuku forced back a giggle. “It really isn’t about that,” he said, once he was more in control of himself. “It’s… We were thinking, there’s not a rule about helping each other in the first two events, right?”

“UA wouldn’t be terribly heroic to ban something like that. I may seem to stand alone, but without my agency, I wouldn’t be able to do much hero work at all!”

Izuku nodded and started a new lap on the timer. He had maybe five, so far.

“Some of my classmates and I were thinking about working together,” said Izuku.

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It is! It’s just… I don’t want to disappoint them.”

Especially not after Kacchan had reminded him of what he used to be. Quirkless, useless, cowardly Deku who ran from fights.

He didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Hm," said Mr. Yagi. He sat down on a bench-shaped protrusion. "When I was a student, they only broadcast the third years' competition."

Izuku nodded. He knew that. He'd spent long, fruitless hours trying to find videos of All Might's time at UA. He hadn't been in the third year sports festival at all… probably because of his mentor dying, if Izuku thought about it.

"I didn't do very well in the first two competitions."

"Wh-what? No way!" He fumbled the timer. "Oops."

"Don't worry about it, just keep going. It's good practice. But, no. I didn't do well. I adapted to the strength of One for All quickly, but I still hadn't adjusted to having it." He waved a hand. "And All for One…" He clasped his hands in his lap. "I made a mistake in the second event that almost got my team disqualified."

"What happened?"

"Didn't occur to me to use my quirk when I should have."

Banjo laughed. "I remember that. The one kid couldn't believe he'd gotten a hit in. He was so shocked."

"Yeah," said En. "That's the only reason he could make up the points."

In the corner, Eighth's ghostly shadow pouted.

"How did they… your teammates, I mean, were they… upset?"

"They were," said Mr. Yagi, "some of them were even a little upset at me, for that matter, but, hm. How should I put this?"

"Toshinori," said Nana, mournfully, "you're making it worse. How are you making it worse?"

"Someone stop that man," said Hikage, completely deadpan.

"Someone needs to stop you."

"All of us tried our hardest," said Mr. Yagi, finally. "There was no resentment. We still got along just fine, afterward."

Izuku set his feet back on the ground. "Are you still friends with any of them?"

"Well… no. But not because of the sports festival!"

Unsurprisingly, this conversation had failed to reassure Izuku.

"Regardless, you've already shown your classmates what you're made of! They won't turn away from you over a hiccup!"

Also not really what he’d been worried about, but… Now he was! So, that was fun.

“There’s only ever one victor, in any case, and only sixteen students ever advance to the final event… There’s always disappointment, I’m afraid. It would be ridiculous to blame that on you.”

“Right,” said Izuku. “Right.” He chewed on his lips, trying not to mumble, even though Mr. Yagi was certainly used to it by now. “What, um, what were the events your first year?”

“Well,” said Mr. Yagi, “it started off with a race…”

Izuku curled up in the rolling chair at his desk, a bag of ice balanced on one knee and a hand gripper in his off hand. His dominant hand was occupied with scrolling through his old digital notes on past sports festivals.

Some of them were sort of… embarrassingly bad. Maybe he shouldn’t judge a ten-year-old (even if the ten-year-old was himself) so harshly, but still!

Well, regardless, past him had gotten the event information down for the more recent sports festivals. It was too bad he couldn’t rewatch some of these, but that would take too long. The sports festival was coming up fast. He barely had time to look up older festivals, from before he started analyzing them.

Luckily, he had help.

His computer chirped, and his eyes flicked to the chat window.

Earlier, more of the class had been on, but they’d slowly logged off as it got later or research got out of their comfort zone. Kaminari was the one who got the chat and the shared file set up through their UA accounts. Ashido and Hagakure had spent a lot of time going through UA’s social media announcements about the festival.

But now it was just Izuku, Monoma, Uraraka, Iida, and Yaoyorozu.

Izuku and Monoma were collating information about what events UA had done before and trying to find patterns in that. Uraraka was watching through the last few events and marking down the different examples of cooperation between students. Iida was going over all the rules and rulings made for past festivals, to make sure what they planned to do was allowed. Yaoyorozu had started with helping Izuku and Monoma, but had branched out to follow other leads, like event popularity.

Izuku thought it was a good division of labor.

Uraraka: Ive got the last festival done sending now

Uraraka: no idea the 2 years were so funny got to watch more

Monoma: You found the part with Togata Mirio I see

Monoma: His quirk is interesting but. No.

Uraraka: That too!

Midoriya: OK so.

Midoriya: From what I can see, the first event cuts the numbers down to around forty or fifty students.

Uraraka: 42’s low and 50’s high

Midoriya: Might be a good idea to use that and get some allies from support or gen.

Like Hatsume. The Support Course and Gen Ed Course could bring support gear into the events, according to Iida’s summary of the rules, as long as it was approved by the school beforehand. Depending on what the events were, support gear could help a lot.

Also, it seemed like something Hatsume would like, considering what she’d said about her ‘babies.’

Uraraka: Thats allowed?

Iida: Yes, it seems so.

Izuku switched tabs and scanned through the spreadsheet for the first event. Obstacle course, maze, scavenger hunt, rising waters, platformer, find the flag, dodgeball, rescue race, teacher tag, villain hunt, flag tag, the gauntlet…

Midoriya: Monoma, what’s the gauntlet?

Monoma: Basically dodgeball, but you’re between two fields of throwers

Monoma: It was audience participation

Monoma: Kinda old

Midoriya: Don’t think we need to worry about that one then.

Iida: That’s quite a few events. Could we perhaps group them in some way?

Midoriya: Maybe? There’s races, finding things, musical chairs type things, battle royales between students, and going against teachers.

Uraraka: I dnt know

Uraraka: the maze ones and the obstacle course are kinda similar in terms of being a race to finish but theyre also pretty different in what you need to be good at to win

That was a good point.

Yaoyorozu: I think we can eliminate some events, based on what happened at the USJ. UA has greatly emphasized increased security since the media break-in and the USJ incident. I believe that limits the types of events they will consider for this year to ones where they can have clean lines of sight and quick access to competitors.

Uraraka: so no maze

Yaoyorozu: Probably not.

Midoriya: I think we can throw out anything that’s audience participation too.

Midoriya: Also the finding hidden stuff ones and the rescue-based ones.

Iida: Why those?

Izuku cringed and started typing. Yaoyorozu probably already realized this, from what she had written before, but she hadn’t mentioned it earlier. Although maybe she just hadn’t gotten to saying it yet.

Midoriya: Well… Hate to say it but we never really made up the USJ rescue training.

Midoriya: If UA is trying to seem stronger they won’t show our weak points. Does that make sense? Not that I think they should do that but…

Izuku pushed back from his desk slightly and chewed on his thumbnail. It did make sense, didn’t it? Maybe he shouldn’t have said that…

Yaoyorozu: I agree. I believe that we are more likely to have something like the obstacle course, one of the limited spaces games like rising waters, or one of the ones with teacher participation.

Midoriya: I think rising waters is out because Aquarius isn’t part of the staff anymore although I guess she could come back for the event? Or have some kind of substitute?

Rising waters was a ‘musical chairs’ event UA had been an average of once every four years since Aquarius joined the staff. The stage would be a bunch of pillars, with the top of each one just wide enough for a person to easily stand on. At the beginning, students would start at the lowest level and there would be more than enough room for everyone, but then Aquarius would slowly start to draw water up onto the stage, until only the highest pillars were clear.

Of course, if you touched the water you were out.

Since they started doing rising waters, they hadn’t done any of the other ‘musical chairs’ games, instead swapping it out with obstacle courses, scavenger hunts, tag and dodgeball.

Yaoyorozu: That would be a reasonable conclusion.

Monoma: Makes sense. What’s your guess for what will happen though?

Most years, lunch time was good for naps and paperwork. All the students were out of the classroom, it was quiet, and Shouta could work on whatever he wanted.

Alas. This year was proving to be an exception.

First the break in (probably caused by the League of Villains), then the nosy other classes, then Bakugo actually assaulting Midoriya (Kan either needed to get that kid to grow up or expel him), and now this. All of 1-A, with the exception of Todoroki, had decided to eat in the classroom.

(Not that he could blame them.)

He shuffled some of the papers in his sleeping bag around, mostly old school records for Midoriya and Bakugo that he’d been meaning to go over, but would probably have to wait for later. If the kids were going to be in the classroom, he’d better keep an eye on them. Or an ear.

Yeah, they were just getting an ear.

“Alright,” said Yaoyorozu. “Everyone give your orders and money to Iida, Shoji, Uraraka, and Hagakure.”

“I- I can carry things, too,” volunteered Midoriya.

Shouta had no doubt that Midoriya could carry plenty of lunches. But he'd also been a target. Keeping him out of the way was smart.

"Yes, but you need time to set up your presentation."

"Oh, right! Um." Footsteps approached. "Mr. Aizawa, is it alright if I use the projector?"

Shouta almost said 'knock yourself out,' but he luckily remembered who he was talking to. "Go for it," he groaned.

"Wow," said Ashido, "he even sounds like a mummy today."

Teenagers. Which reminded him: "No inappropriate pictures, right?"

"T-they're all from the official sports festival releases, so…"

Sports festival? Shouta resisted the urge to laugh. So, his students were turning one of Kan's favorite sports festival strategies against him and working together as a class? The rivalry was largely in Kan's head, but… Sometimes it was nice to gloat. Tastefully, of course. While reminding him that Shouta hadn't suggested it at all.

But he’d wait until the sports festival itself to actually do that. No need to tip the man off.

Back to Midoriya’s question.

With effort, Shouta pried his eyes open. "Don't tell me you found the instant nudist."

"I- um. Well, it's… yes?"

"Is everything pixelated?"

"Yeah. Um, I mean, yes. Yes, sir. It’s in-- It’s not in mine, it’s in Uraraka’s, and it’s only to illustrate a point about cooperation--"

“Did he just try to throw his friend under the bus?”

“No,” said Yoichi, “of course not!”

“Sounded a lot like it.”

“We have a direct link to his subconscious, we know that isn’t what he meant to do.”

"Great," said Shouta, closing his eyes and rolling over.

“Thank you!”

There was some shuffling and arguing about what wire went where, but by the time the four who went out to get lunch were back, Midoriya’s presentation was up and running, the projector whirring in the background.

“O-Okay!” said Midoriya. “The sports festival! I’m, um, I’m. I’m going first. To present our predictions. Monoma and Yaoyorozu really helped a lot with this, and- and then Uraraka will talk about past cooperation in sports festivals, and Iida will talk about rules. Which… You already knew that would happen even without a presentation.”

It was a good thing there was a public relations class at UA, but Shouta could admit the joke was funny despite Midoriya’s obvious nerves.

“Based on our analysis of past sports festival events, we believe that for the first event, the most likely activities are either an obstacle course race or one of two versions of teacher tag. The obstacle course is the more straightforward option and it was last done two years ago. It usually involves physical obstacles like climbing walls made by Cementoss, or robots or other things made by the support teachers. With teacher tag, on the other hand, we need to either tag or avoid being tagged by teachers. Which, um…”

Shouta got the impression everyone in the class was looking at him. The gremlins were afraid of him. Good.

But Midoriya had to work on his volume. The stuttering had eased up, but the presentation was turning into a muttering session near the end there.

“Is an obvious challenge. Both emphasize speed and combat.”

“Combat?” echoed Kaminari. “The tag I get. Well, if dodging is combat. But the race?”

“In most race events you’re allowed to use your quirk against your opponents,” said Midoriya. “The tag events are usually flag tag.”

“Oh,” said Kaminari. “Makes sense.”

“The second event is harder to pin down. Past examples are cavalry battles, dance battles, tug-of-war, capture the flag, king of the hill, and relays.”

“Dance battles? Sign me up for that one!”

Midoriya laughed nervously. “Yeah. However, if we have the obstacle race or the tag version where we’re avoiding the teachers, we probably won’t run into relays, but have something more obviously combative, like the cavalry battle. On the other hand, the version of tag where we’re chasing the teachers usually leads to a rescue or captive-delivery relay or race, with the teacher playing the dummy.”

Ah, yes. Shouta had done one of those his first year teaching. He was very glad Nezu had decided they weren’t doing it this year so the teachers could focus more on security. It was difficult enough to deal with when the students did have rescue training. With this batch…

No.

Next year, maybe.

Probably not.

Although, come to think of it, Shouta’s current injuries would have precluded him from participating regardless. He spared a moment of sadness for the loss of a perfectly good excuse.

“Either way, we’re all pretty sure that the last event will be one-on-one direct combat. Probably a single-elimination tournament.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” said Hagakure.

“That’s because we aren’t,” said Yaoyorozu. “But we have talked it over, and we think that it is the most likely scenario. As for why…”

“It boils down to UA needing to save face and single combat is the most popular event, even though it’s kind of…” Midoriya trailed off.

“Ooh,” said Ashido. “I hear some salt behind that. Spill it!”

“It’s- It’s dangerous,” said Midoriya, finally. “More people get seriously hurt during that event than any of the others. And- and we made our guesses for the events based on patterns from the past, what’s best for security, what we’ve actually been trained for, and what’ll serve UA’s PR, but that leaves, um. It’s combat and speed heavy. Spotlight stuff.”

“Fighting is what heroes do,” said Sato.

“I know! But there’s also underground heroes like- like Mr. Aizawa, or heroes that focus on investigation, like Sir Nighteye, or rescue heroes like the Wild Wild Pussycats. Usually, there’s at least a nod to the other types of heroics in the sports festival, so those agencies can assess interns, too.”

“Which is why Monoma and I believe the second type of teacher tag is the most likely first event,” said Yaoyorozu. “The rescue relay does represent some aspects of rescue heroics.”

“Yes,” said Midoriya, with the air of someone who had argued about the subject extensively, “but--”

The intercom crackled to life. “Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, Monoma, Iida, and Uraraka, please report to the principal’s office.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first #danger first au #fic #fanfic

92 notes · View notes