#inspired by a really odd interaction I had while wearing a mask the other day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacedikut · 3 years

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spooky scary skeletons ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: spencer has the prettiest face you’ve ever painted on. 1626 words

a/n: a poorly edited, poorly written and late halloween thing! inspired by idmakeitbehave (go read everything theyve ever written ever) because they have the BEST meet cutes and every time i think of them i :-)

masterlist

The haunted mansion of the fair, overflowing with screams, the sound of chainsaws and the evil cackle your friend has been rehearsing in the mirror all month, stands tall behind you like the looming presence it is. It’s brought great entertainment for you, watching and hearing the reactions of those that dare enter.

You’re set up not far from the exit of the house with your array of face paint around you, paintbrush in hand. Most of your customers are children – this year’s most popular request is pumpkin, last year was skeleton – and as much as you love spookiness and gore and everything in between, the rush of pride you feel when a little girl gasps and thanks you with the sweetest voice when you show her your finished work is unmatched.

You’re not the least surprised that your clientele is mainly children. There’s the odd parent here and there that is persuaded to get a black cat on their cheek, or some fake blood coming from their eyes and mouths, but they never venture beyond the small request.

Until him.

He’s marched up to you by his friend who, wearing a dress covered in fake spiders and cobwebs, pushes him by the shoulders right up to the foldable chair that’s placed opposite you. You’re drying off a wet paintbrush, glancing up when you hear the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

“My friend would like his face painted.” She tells you.

“Of course,” You gesture for him to take the seat in front of you, the compliment slipping out after giving them both a once-over. “I like your outfits.”

“Oh!” The girl grins. “Thank you. I’ve been waiting all year to wear it. And he,” She points to the still-silent customer who hasn’t taken his eyes off you once, “Is more obsessed with Halloween than anyone I know.”

Looking at the bright orange pumpkin-covered sweater he’s wearing, you’re overcome by the urge to touch it – and his hair, with the way it’s all squiggles and curls and seems so soft. “What can I do for you?”

The first time he speaks, it’s after he takes a deep breath and rubs his palms on his trousers. “A skeleton, please.”

You’re already arranging the colours you’ll need, missing how the girl slips away, too busy asking the usual questions, “How big?”

“My entire face.”

That’s a new one. For an adult, at least. Usually all they want is an easy to clean, easy to hide image on their cheek.

It’s only then you really take in his appearance. In the dark, dusty light of the fair, he looks like a real life Tim Burton character – shallow eyes, sharp cheekbones, a general gauntness that you’ve only seen in fiction. He’s the perfect skeleton, if that isn’t weird to think.

“All over?” Your hand moves to gesture over your face, as if miming to him what all over really means.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I’m not that good of an artist, and my mask makes it kind of hard to see. So a skeleton is spooky enough but not a lot of work, right?”

“Right.” You smile at him. “Right, okay, let’s do it.”

The second the cold bristles dip into the paint before you, you’re absorbed in ensuring you do a good job. You’re used to working on children, so you naturally take hold of his chin to move his face this way and that way to apply a firm coat and get your lines right.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” He mumbles.

You huff a laugh. He feels your breath on his lips. “Hi, Spencer, I’m Y/N.”

The customer – Spencer – wiggles his lips in a way that tells you he’s holding back a smile. You’re not sure what it is about him, but you like him. You like how still he sits, patiently letting you do your work, you like how much he seems to like Halloween (you refer to the sweater and the fact he’s about to cover his entire face in paint to look like a skeleton), and you like how his eyes on you make you feel. Because it doesn’t feel gross, or weird, like it normally does; it’s like his gaze is complimenting you silently, the intensity of it making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Small-talk comes naturally after hours of doing this job. “You mentioned a mask? What was it a mask of?”

“Michael Myers.”

“Oh,” You shiver, “I hate that guy.”

“The iconic mask is actually a William Shatner mask that’s painted white and changed to blur the resemblance to Shatner. Specifically, it’s a Captain Kirk death mask created for Star Trek.” Spencer tells you, giving a tight lipped smile when you pause for a second to take in the information.

“How does William Shatner feel about that?”

“Not great, probably. But, can you imagine being considered one of the stars of the Halloween franchise?” He’s giddy, almost wiggling in excitement. “I’d love to see people wearing my face every Halloween.”

You laugh at that.

A few more facts are spewed out while you mix black with a little bit of white to make grey, some you already know and some you don’t, but he’s still chattering on when you turn back to face him, ready to paint again.

The words die in his throat, however, when your hand finds home on the back of his neck, thumb hooking around to lift his jaw up. “Still, please.”

Even if he wanted to give an unnecessary apology, he wouldn’t be able to, as if his throat is full of sand.

It’s silent for a while, Spencer’s eyes trained on the twinkling night sky that sits calmly compared to the thundering of his heart, the scramble of thoughts in his head. When your hand moves away a few minutes later, his disappointed eyes fall back to your face, where he finds himself thinking, please do that again.

“Do you want the black on your eyelids, too, or just around your eye?” You ask over your shoulder, oblivious to the new slump in Spencer’s back.

“Eyelids, too, please.”

You smile to yourself at how polite he is. Spencer might be the sweetest person you’ve ever met and you’ve known him for twenty minutes.

By the time you’re done, you’ve decided Spencer is the best customer you’ve ever had and you’d give anything to replay this interaction again and again. He’s polite, listens when you ask him to turn a certain way or sit up (a surprising amount of adults simply do not listen), and brings the most interesting conversation.

Did you know the use of OMG can be traced back to 1917? Cause Spencer does, and he bestowed you with the same knowledge.

You’re impressed with yourself and Spencer’s brain when you finally lean back, checking for any spots you missed or parts you can fix.

Before you even reach for the mirror, Spencer’s interrupting you.

“Um… do I-do I look spooky?”

You face him, a pretty smirk on your lips, “Terrifying.”

When you hold the mirror up to his face, he barely spares himself glance (but it’s enough of a glance for him to think holy crap, you’re talented) and there’s a look in his eye – he’s hesitant. About what, you’re not sure.

You wonder if he can tell you don’t want him to go. You enjoy his company, you enjoy him, and you’ve never wanted to wipe your work off someone’s face so quickly just for an excuse to do it again until now.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, reaching for his wallet but not leaving the chair.

Your eyes narrow for a split second as you weight your option. Then you think fuck it, and say, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You can, and you will.” You stand. “Consider it thanks for all the cool facts you gave me.”

He lights up when you say cool facts, and opens his mouth to again offer to pay when he’s cut off by a group of laughing teenagers flying out of the haunted house, the exit door slamming against the wood with a startling bang.

Spencer gets an idea.

Seeing you look at the house, he asks, “Have you been in yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet. If I have time later, maybe-“

“Come in with me.”

His grip on his wallet is tight, channelling all worry into his fingers so he doesn’t stumble or say something stupid.

“It’s the least I can do, and it’ll be too scary on my own.”

He’s lying – the idea of going through a haunted house by himself sounds exhilarating, but he’s found an opportunity to not leave you just yet and he’s going to take it.

You consider him for a moment. It’s late, you’ve been painting faces all day, and the sweetest, most attractive person you’ve ever seen is asking you to join them in a haunted house on Halloween. What kind of person would say no?

“Okay,” You happily concede, “But don’t blame me if I end up clinging to you.”

The two of you join the line into the house, giggling when someone dramatically falls through the exit and gasps for air like he’s barely made it out alive. And when the next people to leave the house are a couple who hold eachother close and tight, hands intertwined and one with their head buried in the neck of the other, Spencer steps a little closer to you, hoping you get the memo that having you cling to him doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @fandommonium3267 @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @bitchyreids

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #mine

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ubernoxa · 4 years

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The Token: A Guns an’ Roses Fanfiction

Chapter 13: Halion

Story Summary: Story inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist. In a desperate attempt to make it big doing what she does, she cuts her hair and mascardes as Duff. What’s the wors that could happen?

Chapter Summary: Michelle/Duff realizes how fragile her lie is.

(Masterlist)

Taglist: @viralwolf02 @littlemisscare-all @smokeandmirrorz @aratbaby @slashscowboyboots @queen-crue @achiweyow @bitter-13-suite @white-lightning-625

I wouldn’t be lying when I said that I thoroughly enjoyed the limo ride that Walter’s father had paid for to drive us to dinner. I almost felt like a rockstar. ALMOST.

As I sat in one of the bright red leather seats drinking a glass of champagne, I could still feel the silk fabric of my periwinkle A-line dress slowly tightening around me. It was almost snakelik. I was it’s prey, and it was getting ready to go in for a kill. The more I moved, talked, or laughed the tighter it felt.

Luckily for me, this wasn’t the first time I wore a tight fitting dress. I was a child of the strip, I was in Pixie, tight clothing was nothing new to me. This though, this was different.

I fidgeted with the headband that was strategically hiding the hairline to my now brown wig. Earlier that day, Macy had come home from work and dyed the wig for me knowing full well that bright blue hair would put Walter’s father in a foul mood. We had worked so hard to stay on his good side, and we weren’t going to throw all of that away because of a stupid wig.

There is no possible way for me to simply describe Walter’s father. He is a rather odd man, but odd in an overly professional way. He is a lawyer at a record company, and his job was focused on making sure the record company wouldn’t get sued. So yes, his uncle hated rock stars and countless lawsuits they would cause by bei absolute unprofessional idiots.

Before you ask, yes I had thought of using him as a connection for getting a record deal, but as I said before he really hates rockstars.

If he ever asked, I worked at a coffee shop and was not a part of a band. If you asked him, I actually hated rock music and didn’t play any instrument. I was the quiet and shy coffee barista who would one day marry a husband and raise a happy little family with two children, a boy and a girl. It was a beautiful lie. It was a simple life that I could have one time chosen, but it wasn’t for me. I knew I had to take the risk of becoming a rockstar; otherwise, I would regret it and live as a shadow of myself for the rest of my life.

Macy gently tapped me on the side with her elbow. I sent her a warm smile as a thanks for bringing me back to reality. I quickly looked back and forth, earning a confused look from everyone in the limo.

“Sorry, just zoned out for a couple minutes,” I faked a giggle in an attempt to soften the blow that I had actually grown incredibly bored of their conversation.

“No worries,” Henry cooed as he gently pushed the hair that was cascaded in front of my shoulder to behind it.

It was a sweet gesture, but it wasn’t entirely welcomed. Ever since the day in the music store where Steven practically told Henry that Izzy and I had fucked in the closet of the music store, Henry seemed to be acting like we were dating. Henry’s annoying actions were worth the price though, and I would do it again with Izzy if I had the chance.

Was it impulsive? Yes.

Was it immature? Yes.

Was it stupid? Yes.

Would I do it again without any hesitation? Yes.

“We’re here,” Henry said, guiding me out of the limo.

It was a beautiful venue. I noticed some paparazzi standing outside the door, creeping through the windows trying to get a picture of some celebrity that was probably trying to mind their own business inside.

That was the part of fame I didn’t look forward to. I had heard stories of some musicians breaking paparazzi cameras or telling them of fuck off. I couldn’t blame them. They just wanted their privacy, something rockstars or any celebrity would never get.

I felt a flash towards our direction quickly followed by some shouting. Panic flooded my bones as I stood paralyzed by the blinding lights. After a couple of deep breaths, I calmed myself down. Once I had collected myself, I looked over to see the questions were thrown at Walter’s father and not me. As quickly the panic had come, it left. All I had to do was follow Henry into the restaurant.

“Is it true that Halion, the rock stars who made your career, have walked away from the record company to pursue better options?” I heard a man yell amongst the small crowd.

Before we could enter the building, Walter’s uncle replied, “First off, they did not make my career. I have been doing this long before they were even born. Second of all, yes they left the company due to creative differences. There are no hard feelings, and we wish them the best.”

Walter’s father was the embodiment of class as he talked to them and shortly headed inside afterwards. This couldn’t have been the first time he had dealt with this. We then were able to sit down at a table that was decorated with elegant silverware and a deep purple tablecloth. Elegance was an understatement, I felt like a queen as I sat down at the table.

“Vultures, bunch of damn vultures,” I froze as Walter’s father cussed under his breath. So there was definitely more to the story of Halion leaving the band, and I would bet my bass that nothing that came out of his mouth was true when he was talking to the paparazzi.

It’s kinda poetic that Halion was one of the bands his record company watched over. Not only did I used to date the bassist, but Halion was a rock band from Sunset Stip. Heroes isn’t a word you would use to describe them because they were far worse that Motley Crue when it came to how they interacted with groupies, and sadly I had to learn the hard way. Despite their tendencies, which are common amongst rockstars, many of the bands on the strip still looked up to them. Why? Because they made it big. Even Pixie used to look up to them, once again, despite them being incredibly sexist.

“Don’t worry father, they’re just desperate to know about company business because they are talentless swines who can only leach off of others,” the air was caught in my lungs once Walter finished speaking. I forgot that I wasn’t the only one wearing a mask. While Walter was never the outgoing funny guy like Steven, he still was nice and had a good heart, to an extent. It was clear that Walter had expectations that his father had put onto him. I don’t know who I pitied more, him or me. My mind slowly wandered toward the thought of my own parents. What would they think of what I’m doing? Would they scream at me? I’ve done worse before, maybe I’d be okay?

I continued to look over the menu and attempt to not gawk at the prices. It was rather clear that between the 5 of us, we were going to spend more money than the price of my monthly rent for the apartment.

“Does anyone plan on ordering seafood tonight?” I couldn’t sense the poison or frustration that once laced Walter’s fathers words as he spoke. We all shook our head no, and he ordered some wine that apparently would pair well with our steaks.

I didn’t protest as the waiter poured me a glass. Yes, I wasn’t 21, but I didn’t complain. I had my fake on me, if I was asked but part of me was hesitant to use it. Had Walter’s father forgotten how much younger I was than his son? Granted it was only a couple of years, but I was 20...not 21.

Laughter erupted from the entrance of the restaurant, and when I looked to see who was the source of it, my stomach twisted. As if they were Beetlejuice, Halion was currently being led to a table not too far from the one I sat at. I made sure to keep my eyes on the menu as they sat down three tables over. To the naked eye, someone might not notice it, but I had personally been with Halion enough when they were trying to hide their drunken state. Part of me wondered how long they would last here before they would get kicked out. Wouldn’t be the first time they were ‘asked to leave’ as the waiters would put it.

I shot a quick glance over towards Halion as they sat at their table with what appeared to be groupies at their side. Like I said earlier, they were classic rockstars. My heart sunk as I recognized two of the faces of the girls who were draped over Halion’s shoulders. Despite the makeup she wore, covering her entire face, and the new clothing that left little to the imagination, I recognized her. No matter how much Betsy changed herself, I would still recognize her. It had only been a couple weeks since Guns N’ Roses took their gig, but even Cindy who was draped around the lead singer of Halion had changed too.

It was only for a moment, but when I locked eyes with Betsy my heart shattered into a million pieces.

I don’t know why the tears began to fight the dams I had built to keep them in.

Not here, I couldn’t cry here.

I couldn’t cry in front of Walter’s father because he would want to know why I was crying. If he had found out that I was a part of a band, he would evict me.

I shared a quick glance with Macy, who sent a concerned look my way. Not only were two member of Pixie here, but one of them was draped across my ex-boyfriend, someone who I foolishly believed could make my dreams come true.

I took a couple deep breaths before I spoke, excusing myself from the table and heading towards the nearest bathroom. I felt his eyes on me as I weaved through the restaurant. I felt Nyx’s bright blue eyes on me.

The moment the bathroom door closed behind me, shielding from the world, I leaned over the bathroom counter with only my hands supporting me.

I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, the fact that Betsy was draped around my ex-boyfriend or what she had turned herself into. Gone was the powerful kick ass drummer. She was reduced to nothing more than a groupie who barely wore clothing. I was honestly surprised that Cindy and her were let into the restaurant.

I internally cursed at myself when I heard the bathroom door open. I should have locked it. I looked over to see Betsy locking it behind her. It was clear she didn’t want us disturbed.

“What? Are you afraid that your new boyfriend will be walking in on us? You know it wouldn’t be the first time he walked into a woman’s restroom,” I snapped at her, keeping my voice hushed.

“When people asked you if he a tualy did that, you denied it!” Betsy shot back in a voice mimicking mine. I could tell that she wasn’t mad about that, but she was directing her anger through it anyway.

“Well of course I did. He would have broken up with me if I didn’t.”

“Ohh Michelle, you’re more pathetic that I thought you were,” I didn’t have to look at Betsy to know that she was rolling her eyes at me.

I couldn’t help the laughter that escaped my lips and now filled the bathroom.

“Me? Pathetic? He promised me that Pixie would open for them for their next tour!” I shot back. I knew I was acting like a totally bitch, but I didn’t care.

“Hmm, but we didn’t open for them.”

I looked over at her as she flashed a smirk at me.

“You’re a real fucking bitch.”

“I’m nothing compared to you,” she spat back, but now it was my turn to send a stupid smirk her way.

“Of course you are nothing compared to me. You never have been and you never would be,” I shot back.

Silence once again filled the bathroom. The only noise that could be heard was the muted conversations from the restaurant that was beyond a door. The conversations that felt like a world away.

I watched as Betsy slowly walked towards me and whispered into my ear, “Don’t forget that I know your dirty little secret. With only one sentence I can destroy EVERYTHING you have ever worked for. I’m currently dating Nyx, the bassist of Halion. I’m sure you’re familiar with how much sway he holds. All I have to do is whisper that one sentence into his ear, and you’re done. You think your name has been run through the mud before? Just wait until I’m finished with you! The funny thing is that people will believe anything I saw about you. Your reputation as a whore is already well known, so any little lie would be believable. Now the question is, do I start small with the little white lies or do I go straight to the big bombshell and work my way from there? Maybe I’ll start with Izzy, you two seem close. Trust me when I say that I will take great pleasure in watching your life crumble to pieces.”

I stood speechless as I watched her leave the bathroom, laughing.

Was this the beginning of the end? Was she really going to tell everyone that I was masquerading as a guy on Sunset Strip? Was she going to tell the world I was Duff?

With Nyx at her side, she had the power to destroy everything I had ever created. I once again held onto the bathroom countertop. Not only to help stop the shaking, but to make sure I wouldn’t collapse on the ground.

Bottom line I was fucked.

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blackjack-15 · 3 years

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The Puzzle is Just the Italian Language — Thoughts on: The Phantom of Venice (VEN)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. Like with all of the Odd Games, there will be a section between The Intro and The Title called The Weird Stuff, where I go into what makes this game stand out as a little strange.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: VEN, RAN.

The Intro:

From the French-inspired streets of New Orleans, Nancy jumps on a plane to Venice and is caught up in international espionage, theft, a mafia ring, and a cast of hostile suspects living in the same house as her.

Sounds a bit like my first semester of college, honestly. Minus the whole “Venice” and “international espionage” parts.

Coming directly after CRY, VEN isn’t quite as thick with atmosphere, doesn’t have any of its philosophy or thematic elements, and is really only famous for being set in Italy and for the fact that they hired four voice actors for our main cast sans regular characters (Colin, voiced by our good ol’ boy Jonah Von Spreecken, counts as a returning VA), but hired 6 distinct VAs for the singing gondoliers, most of whom the average player will never hear.

Yeah, VEN is kind of that type of game.

There’s a lot that makes VEN the trippy experience that it is – more on that immediately below – but nearly none of that makes VEN as confused as it is. Nancy’s hired by a foreign government – sort of – but there’s also a love line – sort of – a roommate story – sort of – and some touristy stuff like overpaying for flowers and gelato.

Taking place overseas, VEN might have been mistaken for a Jetsetting game if it weren’t for the fact that every bit of the game is permeated with the sense that nothing was quite thought out, nothing quite flows together, and there’s no emotional response in anyone – including the player.

That’s not to say that there’s nothing enjoyable about VEN; it’s one of the most highly memed games, in fact, with a catsuit, horrific fashion choices, and little laser roombas all making up the most memorable meme material (and that’s not even touching discount Justin Timberlake and his slides of seduction). It has strongly-painted characters (even if there’s a touch of the caricature about them), the return of recurring characters, the first appearance of a semi-recurring character, poisoned chocolates…it’s almost like someone tried to do STFD, but with a sprinkling of spies and Italy thrown in for good measure.

VEN can be a lot of fun, but it’s also a grind a lot of the time; the required puzzles can be ridiculous, for example, and, in a twist for Nancy Drew games, there’s a puzzle for everyone to hate, no matter if you dislike stealth games, card games, speed-reaction games, or even language puzzles.

Which brings us to the biggest problem with The Phantom of Venice: the common puzzle thread, the thing that keeps recurring, the ‘mission statement puzzle’…it’s just the Italian language. The game hinges on the idea that the player won’t know any Italian (or any Romance language, honestly), and that’s where the majority of the difficulty in the game (barring bad hand-eye coordination) comes from. It’s not a good thing at all, and it brings the entire game down with it.

Well, it has a little help. Let’s talk about the Roomba in the museum, shall we?

The Weird Stuff:

There’s a lot of things that are weird about VEN, no getting around it. But there’s one solid thing that makes it…well, Odd in the way that the other Odd games are qualified, and that’s this one simple fact:

This is a Hardy Boys mystery, with Nancy clumsily inserted in instead of Frank and Joe.

Think about it; called in by a foreign government, espionage, nearly drowning, contacts in the government and police force, an Italian crime ring…these are all things straight out of a Hardy Boys novel, not a Nancy Drew novel. There is a Nancy Drew book titled The Phantom of Venice, true enough, but this game doesn’t bear any resemblance to it besides, well, Venice itself. You could swap out Nancy with the boys and the whole game could go on, minus the whole ‘keepsake necklace from Ned’ thing, and depending on what you ship, even that might fly under the radar.

And no, I didn’t forget the dancing in a catsuit thing. Pure comedy right there.

Nancy’s a homegrown detective; most of her cases are ‘small thing spirals into bigger thing’. It’s not that she doesn’t deal in espionage, at times in foreign places, or stumble upon a crime ring. It’s just that that’s not the type of thing Nancy’s called in for, it’s the type of thing she trips over halfway into a lower-stakes mystery.

The Hardy Boys, however, because of their father’s contacts (in the novels) and their position in ATAC (in the games) are exactly the kind of people that work with police chiefs and security experts and foreign spies and the like. It’s very nearly their bread and butter. Which is why I have a wild but not out-of-the-way wacky sorta-serious theory. Bear with me:

This game was designed as a Hardy Boys game, and Nancy really was clumsily inserted in with a few weeks to spare.

At this point in history – the far-behind time of July 2008, as the Great Recession was descending, the fury of an election year was coming to a head, and you couldn’t go to a supermarket or clothes store in America without hearing OneRepublic tell you that it was just a little too late to apologize – HER wasn’t doing badly, per se, but they certainly weren’t doing as well as they could have been. They weren’t that far from having had to majorly upgrade their engine for a rapidly changing technological world, and there seemed to be no end in sight. HER had plenty of staff change-ups coming because of new sponsors, but weren’t making enough simply with what they had.

Put simply, they needed a carrot. And what better carrot than the fan-favorite Hardy Boys?

There are two Hardy Boys games put out around this time: The Perfect Crime and The Hidden Theft. While neither one was done by Her Interactive, there was a HER Hardy Boys game in the works: the DS masterpiece Treasure on the Tracks. The audience for a Hardy Boys game was meant to be young boys/teenaged boys, but the side audience expected was fans of the Nancy Drew books and games.

So while I know logically that Phantom of Venice was just the latest in a line of ‘adulted-up’ Nancy Drew books (and games), in my head it makes much more sense to say that it was supposed to be a Hardy Boys game meant to promote Treasure on the Tracks and HER got nervous and pulled the plug, stuffing their erstwhile teen detective in instead.

The Title:

As far as a title goes, The Phantom of Venice isn’t a bad one; you can tell it comes from the ‘hotter and sexier’ Nancy Drew books, and as a collection of words, it works rather well. It’s an evocative title, giving us our location, our crime (‘phantom thieves’ are common as a type of thief), and doesn’t say too much else, so as to not spoil the mystery.

As a title for this game, however…well, so little of the actual game deals with the Phantom that it’s rather non-indicative as a title. By the time you’re 16 Scopa games deep and are wearing a sparkly red dress with a cat mask and sneakers around Italy, you’ve pretty much forgotten about the Phantom and are more worried about exactly what happened to the pigeon you used as a messenger and why exactly flowers and gelato cost so much for 2008.

The Phantom of Venice just…deserved a better, more cohesive, more…well, phantom-y game than it got. That’s all.

Now, onto the mystery!

The Mystery:

Nancy’s been called in by the Secret Italian Police because a thief has been stealing art.

No, really, I’m being serious.

Sure, Prudence Rutherford has a hand in getting her called in, but basically Nancy goes from small-time cases, sometimes getting her name in the papers, to called in by the Italian Secret Police.

Caught up at a house where no one likes her (understandable, given that she just Appears one day, forced on the Ca’s owner, Margherita Fauborg, and her residents at the Ca’), Nancy soon becomes embroiled in a mystery most foul when she discovers ties to the art thief – or thieves – right around the Ca’, poisoned sausages and message-laden chocolate boxes, and shades and shades and shades of tiles offered by the Ca’s resident nerd.

Soon, Nancy is juggling police contacts, heists, Scopa games, and the impersonation of a world-class spy just to give the Italian police a hint as to who might be stealing Venice’s greatest artworks. It gets personal, however, when the Phantom Thief himself shows up, stealing Nancy’s locket which she’s just been given by Ned.

Oh, and did I mention that the whole thing is told in media res? Yeah, very, very weird choice right there.

Honestly speaking, the mystery isn’t…bad, per se. It’s got solid bones – art theft, mysterious thieves, romantic location, interesting-seeming suspects, some spy shenanigans. The problem with VEN’s mystery, largely, is that there just isn’t any cartilage to connect those good bones. Without something to hold it all together, it just kind of falls apart – exactly like a skeleton without cartilage.

Simply put, there’s a lot of mystery, but no plot to carry the mystery along.

The Suspects:

Beginning with Margherita Fauborg, the tanning-obsessed matriarch of the Ca’ Nacosta, seems like a good place to start. Dismissive of Nancy, tourists, and Nancy being a ‘tourist’, Margherita prefers to stay on top of her house tanning the day away rather than take part in any shenanigans.

Having Margherita not be a member of the ring was almost as inspired as having Helena lead it; she’s not nice, does suspicious things, is entirely self-centered – but she’s not a villain, nor does the game really pretend that she is for more than a second. I really like characters like this in the Nancy Drew games, who are honestly just People not enamored with the teen detective, but aren’t villains just because of that.

Also, the story of her husband’s death is just incredibly hilarious.

Her half-ward, half-employee Colin Baxter, on the other hand, is anything but dismissive of Nancy. He’s part of the ‘kinda crushing on Nancy’ club, but is Far less beloved than any other member of that club. It comes from his inherent creepiness, criminal record, and love for tile slides, I think.

Colin, as a suspect…well, he’s just there to make the numbers add up. It’s a shame that his largest utility is to show Margherita’s slightly unscrupulous nature, but he should have been kept as perhaps a figure that Nancy could call to get the story, rather than an in-person suspect.

The other person staying at the Ca’ is Helena Berg, fulfilling the HER mandate for having a German villain in their European games. Having Helena be the mastermind of the ring is a pretty good plot point, honestly, as I expected the first time for her to just be part of it, and to have that be the Big Surprise.

She’s also one of the few villains who promises revenge on Nancy and/or is still out there. I know it would have been Way too soon to have Helena be the returning culprit in RAN rather than Dwayne, but honestly she was a better candidate for it. While any hope of a good ND game (and mostly any game, honestly) is pretty far from me, I always hoped one day Helena would return in all her platinum blonde glory.

Enrico Tazza is our most encountered (kind of) and outwardly suspicious suspect, but he’s not exactly…well, scary. He makes Nancy-as-Samantha play a card game with him, then disappears, despite being the Preeminent Villain Face for the first half of the game.

I do love Tazza, however, just for his presence in the game. He’s cartoony, fun, well-acted…he’s just great. And as a potential villain, he’s great too! You’re never meant to doubt that he’s a ‘baddie’, you’re just meant to go along for the ride. Excellent.

Finally, Antonio Fango is the most prominent suspect that you’ll ever completely forget the name of, due to his lack of screen time despite being the Italian Police’s favorite suspect. He has a whole convoluted backstory involving multiple colleges and degrees, but really he’s just the communication go-fer for Helena’s theft ring.

As a villain…well, Fango does his part, but due to being a nigh-unseen suspect, he’s really just not very memorable. He’s like most of the ring – necessary to establish the numbers, but other than that, a non-entity.

The Favorite:

Despite the plot holes wide enough to steer a gondola through, there are a few things that really make VEN stand out.

The first is Samantha Quick; originally a stage name suggestion from Simone in FIN, she shows up as an actual character in VEN, albeit only by phone and shadow. Her pissed-off phone call to Nancy is a highlight of the game, especially as she ends with the vaguely threatening line “say hi to Ned for me”. Her shadow at the end in Colin’s window is the final clinch to make SQ a personal favorite of mine, and her presence (and the feeling of her presence, which is sort of different) is a high point in the game.

The location of the game is another plus; not so much Venice, but the Ca’ Nacosta itself. It’s a wonderful ‘home base’ location for any Nancy Drew game, filled with light, staircases, and pretty impressive stonework given that just a few short games ago, everything looked like it was animated out of melted gummy bears.

My favorite puzzle(s) are the chess puzzles, honestly. I just kind of like chess puzzles to begin with, and it’s a nice respite from forcing pigeons to do your bidding and avoiding various foods.

My favorite moment in the game is honestly the Samantha Quick shadow, but if I had to pick another moment, it’s where Nancy implies that she’s stripping for money, and Ned just replies that he’ll be really glad when she’s back home safe in the States. It’s such a random, hilarious thing to happen, and Ned’s complete underreaction to the idea of Nancy earning money in such a way (as she makes it sound way worse than it actually is) is what really sells it.

The Un-Favorite:

There are some un-favorites as well, however, that drag down the game to the place it currently resides.

The first is…well, the location and the means used to get Nancy there. As much as I have no problem with Venice, this attempt to open up the world makes little sense when you consider that there’s no way the Italian Secret Police would hinge their hopes on a small-time 18 year old American detective, no matter how highly Prudence spoke of her.

The jumbled plot (when there is a plot, at least) is another point against VEN; the writers just didn’t know what to do with Nancy being in Venice, and so just…didn’t do anything with it.

I also dislike that this game happens in media res. There’s no real reason to do it – and it makes any actions that the player takes that’s slightly apart from the ‘main plot’ – gondola rides, ice cream, looking at slide after slide after slide – seem incredibly out of place and borderline inappropriate. At the very least, if the Hardy Boys were part of the game, they could be yelling her name as she began to drown, which would give a sense of urgency that’s missing from the confused opening.

My least favorite puzzle…well, that brings me to a huge problem: every puzzle in this game is based around the fact that it’s in Italian, and they expect no one playing this to even have an idea of Italian (or any romance language). It boils down to this: the puzzle is just the Italian language, and they have nothing else up their sleeves. I don’t have a least favorite puzzle, because apart from a select few, they’re all the same puzzle, wrapped in slightly different clothing.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Phantom of Venice?

Coming off of CRY, we’ve now had two games with two (or three) player characters, so that’s what I’d start with doing. Include the Hardy Boys, who have been called on by the Italian Secret Police because of their work with ATAC. They’re helping the mystified police track down this ring of thieves when Nancy mentions offhand that Prudence Rutherford is recommending a stay at a Ca’ in Venice whose owner owes her a favor (as a treat/vacation). Upon hearing this, the Hardy Boys ring her up and ask her help, as they’ve stalled out. They’re not allowed to come into physical contact with Nancy (to save money on animating them/Nancy), but they want her to investigate from her end, as she won’t be suspected at all.

The real reason the Italian Police let the Hardy Boys get her involved, of course, is that they need someone to impersonate Samantha Quick, and they’re having a rough time with their Joe-in-a-wig tests. They need an American who can convincingly pull off the act, and the brothers mention Nancy’s stints undercover. Desperate enough to grasp at anything, Nancy’s officially in.

That along would help beef up the plot, as suddenly we have an actual police plotline with the Hardy Boys (playing as one or the other, it doesn’t matter, or maybe both with different ‘jobs’ to do as one or the other). Diving the suspects is a good idea too; Nancy would take Helena and Tazza as her primary suspects (of course, only Tazza would be the ‘primary’ at the beginning), while the Hardy Boys handled Fango and his side of the ring.

The final puzzle (with the flashlights and such), especially, makes more sense as a Hardy Boys sort of thing. Nancy can snoop around the market and the Ca’, discovering clues as to Helena’s guilt and such. The Hardy Boys take down the ring, but Nancy takes down Helena.

I would also give Nancy a better reason to be undercover at the dance club. It’s a weird little minigame to be sure, but if it’s gonna exist in the game, there should be a better reason. Even better, take it out and have her solve puzzles – something other than the Italian Language, mind you – in order to get money from the police or something.

(Even better, take out the money thing, as someone helping the Police and pretending to be a spy should not be or appear to be short on funds.)

The last big change I’d do is to take Ned out (sorry, Ned, but there’s really no reason for you to be in this game) and swap him for Carson. Carson really should be in a few more games than he is as it stands, and this is a great way to bring in the fact that…well, Carson can’t be entirely Comfortable with the direction that Nancy’s life is going, even if he is proud of her.

Most of the time, Nancy’s family and friends are just used to say “and she’s ‘normal’ and loved and supported even though she’s never home”, and I think using them to establish her character and the stakes is a far better use of these pre-existing characters.

#nancy drew #clue crew #nancy drew games #VEN #phantom of venice #video games #nancy drew meta #long post #my meta

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years

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AU Yeah August Day 13

Here’s another AU for @auyeahaugust! Will it evolve into a fully-fledged story? Probably. Hope you’ll enjoy! xxx

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Day 13: Flower Shop AU

Marinette stared at the blank page in front of her, pensively tapping her pencil on her desk. She could have sworn that she’d found the perfect outfit to close her next fashion show as she was about to fall asleep the previous night. Something so spectacular, she knew she’d remember it in the morning.

Except morning had come, and still the design eluded her. She had raked her brain throughout breakfast, causing a couple of spills, during her commute to work, which had almost made her miss her stop, and ever since she’d sat down at her desk, three hours ago. The page just stared right back at her.

She sighed and dropped her pencil. Leaning her head on top of her hand, she took a look at her surroundings. She loved her office. She had furnished it in a way that let her creativity flow, and it did the trick - most of the time. The wide windows let the Spring sunshine in, the rays ricocheting against the smooth white surfaces of the cabinets, and the strategically placed mirrors. It made the room look larger, brighter.

She had restrained what she considered to be her clutter to the right hand side of the room. A large cork board took up most of the wall space there, covered in overlapping swatches and sketches. On a low table below it were piles of fashion magazines, more or less old, that she kept for reviews or inspiration. A couple of picture frames also stood there, containing pictures of her parents and friends, and some good shots of herself at fashion shows.

Her eyes swept the room and landed on an intricate vase that sat opposite her. The cleaner, Mister Fu, always made a point to buy flowers for her office, and refused to put them on the company’s bill. It was his way of thanking her for keeping him on despite his old age. She’d never been able to tell exactly how old he was, but one thing was for sure: he was beyond French retiring age. He’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere when she’d established her brand, and worked around as the two-room office expanded into a three-room, a full floor, and now a whole building with Marinette Designs gaining more and more recognition in the fashion world. He cleaned, DIYed, decorated, and had a good eye for things that needed fixing, even if no one knew it yet. She’d come to consider his services as invaluable, especially the odd wisdom bits he provided every once in a while. She really could have done with his help today, maybe he could have helped her with the eluding dress. He’d taken the day off, though, and, if she judged by the wilting flowers that stood in front of her, had forgotten his self-appointed florist duties. Maybe that was what was blocking her flow.

She stood up and walked towards the vase, grabbed it, and made her way towards her office bin. It had been a wonderful bouquet, colourful and fragrant. The sweet smell of lilies remained as she picked them up and shook them gently above the vase, so as to get rid of as much water as she could before throwing them away. As she dropped them, a small card disentangled from the stems and landed next to the paper basket. Marinette crouched down and picked it up.

“The Cat’s fleowers.”She read, cringing at the bad pun. A little black cat holding a four-leafed clover sat under the flower shop's name, and above its address.

She recognised the street as one she took every day, and the number as being between her metro station and the office, yet she couldn’t picture the shop. She shrugged, slid the card on her desk and walked back to her chair, plumping down in front of the taunting white page.

Quarter of an hour of fidgeting, head scratching and deep sighing later, Marinette looked up again, having achieved nothing but weak sketches. The vase caught her eyes once again, its emptiness now bothering her.

She glanced at her watch. Quarter to twelve. She’d be off for her lunch break soon, anyway. She grabbed her vest and handbag and left her office, giving a small wave at her secretary as she did so.

She breathed in deeply and smiled contently as she exited the building, reveling in the warm sunshine that landed on her face. She dug out her butterfly sunglasses and walked down the street.

---

Adrien was bored. He usually never tired of working in Mr Fu’s flower shop, but today seemed like the exception. He’d met Mr Fu by chance one day as he came back from one of his modelling jobs, and had helped the old man carry large potted plants inside the premises. Adrien had fallen in love with the cool atmosphere and the plethora of flowers, which made him feel like he’d just stepped into a different corner of the world. He hadn’t hesitated when Mr Fu had asked him if he’d be interested in working there on the days he couldn’t come in. The fact he could wear a relaxed attire, rather than his usual smart dress, was a bonus. So far, no one had recognised him.

Although the shop was generally quite busy, it seemed like everyone had decided to shun flowers today. Not one customer had pushed the door to his little botanical heaven. Even Plagg, the resident black cat, had decided to loaf around, hidden somewhere between the azaleas and the hibiscuses.

Adrien was about to give up and head out early for lunch when he heard the characteristic jingle of the door. His breath caught as an elegant lady walked in. She wore a simple, yet tasteful, red polka-dotted dress which had him instantly nickname her ‘Ladybug’. Her eyes were masked by large sunglasses. Standing in the midst of the flowers, she looked like a model in a jungle-themed photo shoot. He would know, having participated in more than one.

From where he stood, at the till, he had a good view of what was going on in the shop, without actually being seen, hidden behind the hanging plants section. He watched as she walked around hesitantly, examining the different bouquets on display. She turned around and her apparent perplexity made him shake out of his admiration. He strode out of his hiding place, smoothing his black and green apron as he did so.

“Hi, welcome to the Cat’s fleower’s, may I help you?” He wished there was something more original to say, but he could hardly go ahead and just offer her flowers.

Marinette frowned slightly, although her expression was hidden by her bangs and glasses. There was something familiar about the man standing before her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She quickly scanned his appearance, her designer eye turning into critique mode, and tried to identify where she’d seen him before. He was, she would say, conventionally handsome, in an ‘I don’t try’ way. His blond hair was tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed (it wasn’t a bad look, but it could be improved on), and his glasses bore a layer of dirt which occulted his eyes, that she assumed were green. He definitely would have stood out from all the manicured men she mixed with in the fashion world. A stray Chat Noir amidst a bunch of aristocats.

Maybe she’d just seen him in the street.

“Hello, I wanted to buy a bouquet, but I can’t really pick. You have a beautiful selection.” She smiled, and Adrien could swear his heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you.” He replied, deciding to take the compliment as if he’d ordered the flowers himself. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” She shrugged. “I just like having blooms around when I work.”

“That makes two of us.” He winked. “Is there anything you feel drawn to? Or any emotions you’re feeling?”

Marinette thought it was quite a personal question to ask someone he’d just met, but didn’t dislike it.

“I’m short on inspiration these days.” She admitted.

“Creativity boost, coming right up!” He grinned. Now was his time to shine; ever since starting this part-time job, he’d started reading up on the flower language, and it seemed like his study would finally be paying off. “As it happens, I have angelicas, which represent inspiration, in stock. I’ll also add hollyhock for ambition, gerberas for stress relief, sweet basil for good wishes, and-”

He was interrupted by her ringtone. Ladybug fished her phone out of her handbag, and saw a familiar face on the screen.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” She apologised, swiping to answer. He nodded understandingly and gestured that he’d be wrapping the bouquet.

“Hello?”

“Hi boss!” Alya, her PR manager, and incidentally, her best friend greeted. “You are going to LOVE me.”

Marinette shook her head, amused. “You know I already do, what did you do this time?”

“I only went and got you THE Adrien Agreste’s number!” Her friend squealed, making her move her phone away from her ear.

“You didn’t!” She gasped. “How?”

“Girl, I’ve seen how you drool over his pictures, I needed to do something about it! Nino knows him, it wasn’t very hard to convince him to give me his number.”

Marinette had nursed a crush on the model ever since he’d given her his umbrella at the end of a fashion show, back when she was still an intern working for a big brand. It didn’t hurt that he was one of the most handsome models out there. They’d seen each other again from afar during fashion weeks, their interactions often summarised to a little chit-chat over a glass of Champagne, surrounded by a crowd.

“But what will I even do with it?” She asked, panic seeping through her words. How could she justify getting his number? And what would she say? Would he even know who she was?

“Marinette, I can feel your anxiety from here, breathe.” Alya chuckled. “We’ll work on it.”

“Okay.” Marinette steadied her breathing. “Meet you in ten for lunch?”

Adrien’s heart sank as he heard the words. He’d been about to ask her if she felt like grabbing a bite with him. He grabbed his pen and scribbled a quick ladybug sketch on the back of the business card, along with the words ‘see you again soon!’ and stapled it to the bouquet.

Marinette stole a last look at the flower shop as she exited it after paying, and smiled. She had to admit, Chat Noir’s enumeration had left her dubious. She definitely wouldn't have thought of arranging those flowers together, yet the bouquet was beautiful. She held it out at arms length to examine it, and saw the card. Her mind raced, and she suddenly knew how to end her show. She accelerated her pace to get back to the office before the idea flew away.

Adrien Agreste’s number, wonderful flowers, and a strike of inspiration. The Cat’s fleowers had worked like a lucky charm.

She had a feeling she hadn’t seen the last of it.

#mlauyeahaugust #auyeah2020 #flowershop au #lovesquare #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #elle writes

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kayincolwyn · 4 years

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Whatever It Means To Be Human (Easter reflection, 4/12/2020)

As many others throughout the world have been pointing out over these last couple months, these are strange times that we're living in.

Back in December around Christmas I started getting sick, and in January I had to go to the ER for some kind of infection that was giving me a sore throat as well as a fever and headache, got a look over and a prescription for a week long course of penicillin which seemed to knock out the infection (and later got hit with a 1200 bill for that ER visit, because my insurance didn’t cover it, that I still need to pay back, which I was livid about when I first found out about it but now am trying to accept as best I can because I have bigger things to worry about). A couple weeks later I had a followup checkup (with a very sweet and very pretty nurse, so no complaints there) and I remember staff at the clinic being pretty jumpy about some virus over in China (now widely known around the world as the coronavirus, or Covid 19) that I honestly hadn't heard about before then, and they were asking me if I had traveled to China or had any interaction with anyone from there, and of course I said no, and I remember being kind of annoyed by their jumpiness at the time. Well, needless to say, now I can see why they were being so jumpy.

I've had some kind of bug or another off and on since then, like a lot of people do in the wintertime, but because of, well, 'everything that's going on' (a phrase I've been using and I've heard a lot of people using lately, like it's become some kind of collective cultural meme) I find myself worrying much more than usual about a little cough or stuffy nose or feeling a little under the weather. At first, like a lot of people, I thought this was no big deal, that it would be another of those diseases that infected a few people but would be quickly contained, and then when that didn't happen I thought, like a lot of younger folks, that I would be fine and just needed to worry about older folks that I care about, but now I know that I could potentially be taken out by this virus too, and even at the ripe old age of 37, so now I worry about myself as well as others, and I admit that, while I’m trying to be brave, part of me is scared.

Even with that worry and anxiety, and with the whole world changing so drastically in just a matter of weeks, I'm still working (with the realization that janitorial work has more value than perhaps I initially thought or felt) and still busing it to and from work and going to the grocery store as needed, while usually wearing my newly acquired neoprene half mask (with inserted filters provided by a friend) like armor, and while washing my bloody hands more than at any other time in my life, and while trying to boost my immunity as best I can with vitamins and supplements of various kinds. Strange times indeed.

I admit it's kind of odd to be considered an 'essential worker', to hear some even hailing people in my position as 'heroes on the frontline' or something like that, when for years I've felt that being a janitor was equal to being at the bottom of the totem pole, and over the years I have on occasion been made to feel less than by others because of my place on the totem pole (though to be fair I've also received my share of gratitude and kindness from others concerning my work as well, which I'm thankful for and appreciate). I mean, I don't really see myself as particularly heroic (I see doctors and nurses and other healthcare workers who are directly risking their lives in order to save others as far more heroic than myself, for example), but just as a guy trying to do his job in order to provide some service to others while also making a living, but I appreciate the validation nevertheless.

As an 'essential worker' (though even among 'essential workers' I still feel like I'm at the bottom or at least near the bottom of the totem pole), I just want to say that I feel that we all have a part to play in this world, that we all have something that we can contribute to the world, even if it may not seem like much.

Like I have seen some people online ragging on celebrities for trying to entertain others from the safety and comfort of their homes (with many of them being out of work at the moment for obvious reasons) but I would say that trying to entertain or encourage others in whatever way you can, even from a distance, can be meaningful and has its place, because we could all use a little entertainment and encouragement sometimes. I mean, for example, people out there can rag on Gal Gadot for trying to sing Imagine with a bunch of other celebrities who may or may not have any musical talent or ability in some online video, but even as cheesy and cringe-inducing as that may be, I still loved her as Wonder Woman (and through that role she has inspired many people, including many young women and girls) and I appreciate her desire, as well as the desire of everyone in that video, to uplift others in some way. Heck, even just trying to stay home as much as possible, trying to keep your distance from others, trying to be mindful of others, as she and many other celebrities as well as everyday people have been and are doing, in this time can be meaningful and shouldn't be completely discounted.

And to me it's not about being 'essential' or not, or 'heroic' or not, it's just about being human, and doing what you can to be a decent human in whatever way you can.

Of course being human is hard, as every human, no matter who they are or where they are, gets their share of suffering and sorrow in some way or another or at some time or another in their lives (though to be fair some certainly do seem to get a bigger share than others, and some comparatively less), and being a decent human is even harder, as it's often a challenge to do some good or do the right thing with all your faults and flaws and with all your limitations and shortcomings, and then going above and beyond that and being someone that most others would think of as a 'saint', well, that seems nigh impossible.

And what does it mean to be human anyway?

I guess that brings me to something that's been on my mind, and is on my mind more now what with it being Easter and having Jesus on the brain a little more than usual (hey, you can take the boy out of the Christianity but you can't take the Christianity out of the boy).

In times like this where the world is shaken up and we're in a semi-apocalyptic state of mind, where our mortality not just individually but collectively is more in question than usual, the question of what it means to be human looms large for many of us, along with those often asked questions about where we come from, why we're here, where we're going... you know, the usual fare.

Lately I've been reading some books by former evangelical Christians, including Unfollowed by Megan Phelps-Roper, granddaughter of Fred Phelps, founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, as well as books by Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis Schaeffer, an influential evangelical thinker and theologian.

Being a former evangelical Christian myself who is trying to find his way after questioning and deconstructing and for the most part walking away from that way of seeing and operating in the world, I can resonate with much of what they have to say and share, like the pain and loneliness there is in walking away from a community that you can no longer agree with to try and find your own path, or how with freedom to think for yourself comes an uncertainty that you have to get used to because now it's on you to decide what you will believe and where you will stand rather than just following what others have taught you or told you, or the mixed feelings about who you were and where you were when it wasn't all bad and it's part of who you are today and even while you don't want to, and really can't, go back, you're still grateful for it somehow.

And in their books they both wrestle with what it means to be human, what it means to be a good person, with the value of life and the value of love, because those questions and concerns still matter to them whether God or some higher power exists or not, just as they still matter to me on some level.

I've also been thinking a bit about Fred Rogers, better known to the world as Mister Rogers, the widely beloved children's TV host, after watching the recent film which stars Tom Hanks as Rogers, A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood, as well as the documentary Won't You Be My Neighbor?, and listening to a podcast about him called Finding Fred.

My late friend Erin McCarty was a big fan of Fred Rogers (I even sent her this Mister Rogers t-shirt that I found at a thrift store which she wore proudly in some of her photos on Facebook) whom she saw as a real saint, and she was far from being alone in thinking of him as one. Fred Rogers was one of those people who seemed to go above and beyond just being a decent human, as he was by all accounts a highly exceptional human, who, while having his share of quirks and eccentricities, more than most dedicated his life every waking hour to pursuing the good and showing love to others (and most especially children, whom he could be thought to be the patron saint of if he were canonized as a saint I should think) and even in such a way that no one with a sound mind and clear conscience could find any fault in him.

Those closest to him knew that he at times struggled with feeling inadequate, with feeling as though he wasn't really making a difference in the world, like what he was doing wasn't enough, but even so he continued to move forward, continued to try, an artist whose art-form was kindness and empathy (or as that podcast Finding Fred put it ‘a genius at empathy’).

I remember I was talking with a friend of mine about Fred Rogers the other day and he said that he thought if there was anyone who could perhaps have been the second coming of Christ it was Rogers, and while some might think that sentiment a little sacrilegious, I think it's a testament to the respect many people have for the man's character. People may on occasion playfully mock Mister Rogers for some of his mannerisms, for the way he talked or dressed or otherwise expressed himself (though of course much of that was for the sake of the children he was communicating with), but if you were to ask anyone with any sense at all they would admit that he was, if nothing else, a good man.

I guess the same could be said of Jesus, whose teachings about life and love Fred Rogers, being a Presbyterian minister who took his faith seriously (even if he was kind enough and wise enough not to push it on others as many religious folks tend to do unfortunately), sought to follow and apply to his own life as best he could. Many have parodied Jesus in one way or another over the years (in fact the next book I'll be reading just in time for Easter is Lamb: The Gospel According To Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, which I look forward to reading as it sounds like fun) but most would agree that he was, if nothing else, a good man. Even the beloved comedy group Monty Python, most of whom were agnostic or atheist, after studying the gospels in preparation for what would eventually become their classic comedy Life Of Brian, decided against making a film where they mocked Jesus but instead made a film that mocked the church that often failed to follow his example. Instead of focusing on Jesus in the film they decided to focus on a guy named Brian who was mistaken for Jesus, following him on all of his adventures (or misadventures), while occasionally showing the real Jesus respectfully somewhere in the background (much as was done in the film Ben Hur). They said their reason for doing this was that they couldn't help but appreciate much of what Jesus said and did in the gospels, or as they said in their decidedly British way 'you can't take the piss out of it'.

As Frank Schaeffer points out in his book Why I Am An Atheist Who Believes In God (which I thought was a pretty clever title, and one I can kind of resonate with as I’m somewhere in the middle like that myself), some things that Jesus says and does in the gospels, or at least is recorded as saying and doing, don't really make sense or seem inconsistent with the general thread of kindness and empathy that can be seen in Christ's teachings, and having read the gospels at least a couple of times myself (or at least a couple of their English translations anyway, where no doubt much gets lost in translation), I would agree. He wonders if maybe some things were taken out or added in, if the writers sometimes spun some things to bolster their own point of view (which humans tend to do unfortunately), or if some things were simply a result of 'the telephone game' as it were (with most of the gospels probably being written decades after the events that they chronicle took place so that's not really out of the realm of possibility), and he may be right (as much as many Christians out there, especially the more fundamentalist among them, who may believe that scripture is infallible and inerrant, would hate to admit it).

But whatever the case may be, there is still enough of that thread of kindness and empathy in Jesus' story and message that countless people have been inspired by it through the centuries since he was said to have lived and died (and at least according to the Easter story, risen from the dead), including people like Fred Rogers, and also including people like Megan Phelps-Roper and Frank Schaeffer or myself, who even though they no longer identify as Christian still see some value in Jesus’ example and teachings, or at least as they now interpret them.

Many still seek to follow that example and apply those teachings today, including in these very strange, and very difficult, times, trying to walk a path of kindness and empathy when the world seems to be falling apart. I can't really say for sure how much I'm doing that myself, walking that path, with all of my faults and flaws and limitations and shortcomings, but I would like to think or hope that I manage to do a little good each day and get things right at least on occasion.

The truth is though that many of us, including me, feel as though we don't measure up to the standard that someone like Jesus sets (or at least appears to set when you read about the kind of life he led), or even to the standard of someone like Fred Rogers. It just seems nigh impossible to meet that kind of standard. I mean I can't really speak for everyone who struggles with this, but I know that I have often struggled with wondering if I'm good enough, have debated whether I'm making a difference in the world, and have had doubts about whether I am even a decent human, let alone a saint. I feel like I fail or fall short in some way or another every day, feel like I don't care enough, don’t give enough, don't live big enough or love deep enough. Maybe some of my family and friends who see more in me than I see in myself might argue with me on this, but it's still how I feel sometimes, or even much of the time, and is a daily internal struggle for me.

But hearing about Fred Rogers, who some half jokingly (but also half seriously) would call the closest thing to a second coming of Christ that they can think of, having similar struggles gives me some perspective and comfort though, and it makes me wonder if even Jesus himself had such struggles, even if they may not have be written about, even if they were only written in his own heart, as blasphemous as the thought of someone whom many claim and believe to have been the Son of God, or even God in human form, actually struggling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt may be, but blasphemous or not that thought gives me a strange kind of comfort.

I remember in reading the gospels one of the parts of Jesus' story that resonated most with me was him wrestling in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was arrested. Just imagining him being scared and uncertain and agonizing in the dirt and just being, well, more human like me, because I've been there too, is somehow encouraging, because if that's God, or a representative of God, or even just a very good man, maybe it's okay for me to be scared and uncertain and to agonize in the dirt too, because maybe I'm not alone in that.

One of the things that Fred Rogers is famous for saying is 'I like you just the way you are'. In the podcast Finding Fred, the podcast host, who greatly admires Fred Rogers, sometimes expressed struggling with that idea, being a black man who has experienced a lot of racism, and also being someone who has been mistreated in a lot of ways by others throughout his life, he wondered how he could like someone just as they were when, well, there was so much wrong with some people out there. One of his guests on the show, another admirer of Fred Rogers, suggested that what Rogers meant by 'I like you just the way you are' wasn't that everyone was perfect in every way, nor that everyone's words or actions or choices should be condoned, let alone praised, or that people didn't need to learn or grow in different ways, but rather that underneath all the dirt and the muck of our imperfection, our imperfect words and actions and choices, and no matter how deeply buried, there is something of value, something of worth, some spark of the divine in us, which can never be completely destroyed, and no matter how much others, or even we ourselves, may try to.

Of course, much like the host of the podcast, many of us struggle with seeing that that is true of those whom many of us would call 'monsters', the murderers and abusers and tyrants of this world, the worst of the worst if you will, but then it appears that Rogers was able to look at people even like that and see something of value and worth in them, seeing something of beauty beneath all of the ugliness, or at least the potential for it anyway.

I think of another man that many could think of as a saint, named Daryl Davis, who is a black man that has made it his mission to try to befriend members of hate groups, including members of the KKK, not in a concerted effort to convert them to his way of seeing things necessarily but simply to give them something to think about through their just knowing him. He has helped many to walk away from the KKK and other such groups simply by extending the hand of friendship to them, and he challenges others to try to break down divides by seeing the humanity in others, including those who are different from us, or even those who hurt us or frighten us.

I also think of Fred Phelps, who was the founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, and who has become an icon of religious hate to many, and what his granddaughter Megan wrote about him in her memoir Unfollowed, how even though to most people he was a terrible human being, even a monster, to her he was her 'Gramps', whom she loved dearly even if looking back she knows that he got a lot of things wrong, and she spoke of how towards the end of his life when he was falling into dementia that he softened considerably, and even to the point that his own church effectively excommunicated him and abandoned him in a retirement home, where Megan and her younger sister Grace, who had recently left the church (and at great personal sacrifice to themselves), snuck in without permission from their family to see him one last time, and Megan says he was mostly lucid at that time, and instead of reproaching them for having left the church he only expressed his love for them in the end. It seems that at the end of his life Fred Phelps didn't cling to his dogma and hate so much as his relationships and love, which is encouraging.

Fred Rogers (the other Fred if you will), whom Fred Phelps himself often mocked as 'a wuss and an enabler of wusses' among other things, even going so far as to protest at his funeral, would have been proud I think that Phelps had come so far at the end, and I am sure he would have said to him 'I like you just the way you are' and I think the humanity buried even in someone like Phelps was what Rogers was pointing to by saying that to everyone he encountered.

Frank Schaeffer spoke of his mother, Edith Schaeffer, in his book Sex, Mom, and God, in much the same way, even going so far as to say that even being straitjacketed by the limitations of her religion and its dogma she was a force of nature and he could see her humanity shine through throughout her life, especially towards the end when, as Fred Phelps did, she softened, and said that ultimately she was better than her beliefs, or that something in her, her humanity, rose above that.

And maybe that humanity, or that divine spark, or whatever you want to call it, was also what Jesus was pointing to and trying to call out, and whether that be in the everyman on the street, or in the seemingly irreparably damaged people that you may find in prisons (or even sometimes in governments) or even among the religious who can get so mired in their ideology and self-righteousness as to forget that spark within them or in others.

It may seem nigh impossible, if not flatly impossible, to live up the standard of what many of us think of as saviors or saints, but I think of a scene in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood where Roger's wife Joanne says that 'Rodg' (as she affectionately called him) wouldn't want people to think of him as a saint, as he believed that anyone and everyone could walk the path that he walked, or at least tried to walk, and in their own special way.

I also think of how Jesus said to his disciples that they would do even greater things than him, which when you think of the kind of example that someone like Jesus set, namely one where you are willing to die for what you believe in and stand for, that seems like a pretty tall order, but it makes me wonder if, as controversial as this may be and contrary to popular and widespread religious opinion that has been built up around him for centuries, maybe Jesus wouldn't want us to think of him as a savior anymore than Fred Rogers would want us to think of him as a saint, because maybe instead of putting them up on pedestals we're meant to try and follow their example as best we can.

I remember one of the guests in the Finding Fred podcast saying that maybe instead of just looking back on Rogers and his example with admiration and nostalgia, we could also try to be like Fred Rogers ourselves, much as those who seek to follow the way of Jesus (which Rogers himself was trying to follow) instead of just looking back can try to be like him as much as they are able, and in their own special way.

With it being Easter today as I post this, I honestly don't know whether or not Jesus rose from the dead, heck I am not even one hundred percent sure if he even existed (as there are those who argue that he didn't, even if most historians would agree that he did, though most of them think that most of what was written about him was just fanciful legend that was built up around him, which may or may not be the case, because none of us can really know for sure on that since we weren't there, and unless we invent time travel or something it will continue to be a matter of faith, and faith alone), but then I am willing to keep something of an open mind about it, and even with where I am now I can still understand why many look to Jesus as a symbol of hope and the love of God, and why people see something meaningful in the story of his life, death, and resurrection because even if it may not be literally true (and again on that front it is a matter of faith), that doesn’t mean it isn’t mythically true. Whatever the case, I believe that his example and message of kindness and empathy lives on (even if one has to dig through a number of inconsistencies and mistranslations to find it), much as Fred Rogers’ similar example and message lives on.

And I guess this brings me back to 'everything that's going on', and the question of what it means to be human.

One of the things that a lot of people have been saying through this crisis that all of us in the world are facing is that 'we're all in this together' and I think it's safe to say that there's nothing quite like a pandemic to remind us of how much we value our relationships when we are having to keep our distance from others, including those we love, for our good and theirs, and when we are fearing for not only our own health and our own life but also for the health and lives of others.

I recently watched the film Contagion, which came out about ten years ago, and many are seeing it as eerily prophetic as much of the film parallels what is happening now, but one of the underlying messages of that film, as one of my favorite Youtubers, Like Stories Of Old, pointed out, is how much our relationships matter, how much those connections that can so easily be taken for granted matter, when we are faced with existential threats such as the one we seem to be faced with now. More likely than not, as in Contagion, this pandemic, as bad as it may get, will not be the end the world, but it is certainly shaking it up and it appears it will continue to do so for awhile, and in the midst of that all we have for sure is eachother, even if we can only be there for one another mostly at a distance and in spirit.

In A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood there was a moving scene where Rogers says concerning death and how difficult it is to talk about it that 'anything that is mentionable is manageable', and I think the same applies to the situation we are in now, we can face this and face it together, because we're not alone in this mess, not alone in the dirt, even as lonely as it may feel at times.

Our situation is also a reminder (and is another theme in Contagion) of how connected we all are, especially in this globalized world that we now live in. A friend of mine here on Tumblr was telling me in a recent message how this whole situation shows how interconnected we all are, and how every choice we make can impact those around us and can have a domino effect, even having effects, whether positive or negative, that we aren't even aware of.

What he said reminds me of this passage from the classic children's book Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, which I finished reading for the first time just a couple days ago, where there is this exchange between the book's chief protagonist Milo, accompanied by his loyal companions Tock and Humbug, and the princesses Rhyme and Reason:

“It has been a long trip,” said Milo, climbing onto the couch where the princesses sat; “but we would have been here much sooner if I hadn’t made so many mistakes. I’m afraid it’s all my fault.” “You must never feel badly about making mistakes,” explained Reason quietly, “as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons.” “But there’s so much to learn,” he said, with a thoughtful frown. “Yes, that’s true,” admitted Rhyme; “but it’s not just learning things that’s important. It’s learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters.” “That’s just what I mean,” explained Milo as Tock and the exhausted bug drifted quietly off to sleep. “Many of the things I’m supposed to know seem so useless that I can’t see the purpose in learning them at all.” “You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes round the world; when a speck of dust falls to the ground, the entire planet weighs a little more; and when you stamp your foot, the earth moves slightly off its course. Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in a pond; and whenever you’re sad, no one anywhere can be really happy. And it’s much the same thing with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.” “And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach. But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.”

While I think the main themes of The Phantom Tollbooth are the value of education as well as how you see and experience the world around you, I think this passage could also be applied to how we learn how to live and love, and how you follow a path of kindness and empathy.

It's a process to be sure, and we will all make mistakes along the way, but as Reason says, we can learn more from being wrong for the right reasons than being right for the wrong ones, and trying to apply what we've learned as best we can and holding onto our reasons for doing so is just as important as what we learn. And there's a purpose to it, to living and loving as best we can, and it can impact the world around us, it can be like a ripple in a pond that spreads out in ways we can't know or even imagine, and who knows, maybe it will take us to places that we couldn't have even dreamed of...

Maybe that's something to try remember whenever we get discouraged (and I know I do plenty, as I’m sure most of us do), much like Fred Rogers did, and perhaps even Jesus did, and when wondering whether or not we have cared enough or given enough or lived enough or loved enough, that even seemingly little things can have a great impact and can actually make a real difference in the world.

In Fred Rogers' last television appearance after 9/11 he spoke of how his mother said in times of crisis that you should "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” I remember in the Finding Fred podcast they pointed out how in that message he was speaking to the children who are now grown ups themselves, the ones who had watched his program as they were growing up, and he was pointing to their own humanity, to that divine spark within them, and calling them to become those helpers themselves.

Even in that instance Rogers struggled, as he was so shaken by the enormity of the events of 9/11 that he felt that nothing he said could really help, and yet many, including myself at the time, even not being as familiar with Fred Rogers then as I am now, as I hadn't really watched his show growing up myself (I was more of a TMNT and Transformers kind of kid back in the 80s), were encouraged by what he had to say, and it made an impact, it made a difference. It helped.

And we can help too in our own way, and even if we too may feel shaken up by the events of our own time, these strange times that we're living in, we too can make an impact and a difference, we can help in some way, and however small and inconsequential what we may have to offer may feel, and whether it may feel decent or good or 'essential' or 'heroic' enough or not, we can help, and even if we may not know that we are helping.

As far as the answers to some of those big questions, like where we come from, why we're here, and where we're going, honestly I'm not sure what the answers may be, I mean I have some guesses, but I don't know with absolute certainty (and I'm having to learn to live without that anyway, even as I try to look forward with some hope and look back with some gratitude), but whatever it means to be human, I think it may have something to do with doing what you need to do even when you're worried and scared, with trying as much as you can to lift up others when they're down or maybe even when you're down, with the value of life and of love, with not being alone in the dirt, with seeing some measure of value and worth in jaded and cynical adults as much as you may see it in children, with extending the hand of friendship, and maybe even to those that are different from you, or looking for the humanity even in those that hurt and frighten you, with somehow loving those that others may only see as irredeemable monsters, with seeing the light in someone even if they are held back by things that limit and hem them in, with not insisting that others put us up on pedestals whenever we do some good or get something right but that they try to do the same themselves as best they can just as we are trying to do, with learning and growing in every way we can, with facing difficult times together, with trying to encourage and support and help one another, and even as imperfect as we may be and are. Maybe it has something to do with all of that.

I hope that we'll get through these strange times, that we'll not only survive them but that this may also push us to change some things for the better, that this will push us forward somehow, through death towards resurrection, that this will remind us of our humanity, that spark within us, and while I don't really know why we are in these strange times, or why 'everything that's going on' is going on, really I do hope that in the end it will move us a little closer to finding out, both for ourselves and for eachother, what it means to be human.

#covid19 #everything thats going on #were in this together #essential worker #Easter #megan phelps roper #frank schaeffer #mister rogers #jesus #daryl davis #fred phelps #contagion #phantom tollbooth #9/11 #what it means to be human

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fandomn00blr · 4 years

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TODAY IS A DAY AND HERE’S A THING!

So, uhhh...this is who I am and what I write now. Animal prompts? Not a furry thing (not that there's anything wrong with that)...just a couple of people learning about each other and one of them happens to act a bit like a raccoon. Nobody even asked for this one, in particular, but...here.

“Why are you picking through the garbage again?”

“Huh?” Alarion turns to look at Anders and he looks like a halla caught in magelight...or rather, like some kind of bandit caught ferreting through someone’s dirty underwear pile.

“We aren’t short on food. Should I ask Solona to up your rations?” He starts to pull out some of the food he has tucked away into one of the many pockets hidden in his robes. “You can have some of mine, in the meantime...”

“No, I...well, I just -- old habits, I guess,” Alarion shrugs with a dazzling and distracting smile as he stands up, wiping his hands down his body and straightening out his leathers, all the while trying to hide behind his radiant admiration of Anders’ unceasing compassion.

“Ah,” Anders nods. It’s not that he hasn’t known poverty and lack of resources himself, of course. But his destitution was often of his own choosing, preferable to being held a prisoner in the Circle, anyway -- and he almost always had a group of friends to force him to eat or to pay for his drinks or to throw him some coin or old tattered trousers they’d found in a barrel when his clothes got to the point of risking public indecency. He rarely had to scavenge for much.

His heart breaks as he wonders what kind of life Alarion had before he was strategically placed as a spy in the Pavus household. Not so much out of pity, but because he realizes they’ve never once talked about it. That Anders has wept countless times in this man’s arms over his own past, but never once has anything come up about Alarion other than that he was trained as a spy for the Agents of Fen’Harel.

Alarion is still smiling at him, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment by being his charmingly deflective self.

“You don’t…” Anders begins to say. He doesn’t what? “You don’t need to hide anything from me, you know.” Shit, that’s not really what he meant, is it?

“I’m not…” Alarion’s smile falters. Does Anders think he’s lying to him, too? He supposes that's fair, all things considered.

“I don’t mean that I don’t trust you or anything. Just that, you don’t need to be embarrassed about anything.” He waves his wand toward the pile of trash.

“Anders, I was an orphaned elf in Tevinter.”

“I know.” But did he, actually, know what that meant?

“So, uh, this is sort of second nature to me.” Alarion smirks. “But I’m not looking for food, specifically. Just...anything of value? So go ahead and put that moldy bread away before you lure some deepstalkers to our camp.”

“Oh.” Anders blushes as he shoves the old bread back in his pocket.

Alarion shakes his head at him. He’s not the only one with odd habits. “So you ration out your food and keep it even when it’s gone bad. And I rummage through the trash.”

Anders finally laughs at the twinkle in Alarion’s eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty strange.”

“Anders, no…” Alarion rushes over to him, grabbing for his hands. “After what you went through…”

“No.” Anders shakes his head, taking Alarion’s hands in his anyway because how could he resist those impossibly dexterous fidgeting mitts? “Don’t let me make this about me, love.”

Alarion looks puzzled at him. He’s blushing and being self-deprecating and Alarion would like nothing more than to nuzzle up against him for a kiss, but Anders pulls away slightly as Alarion squeezes his hands.

“I always talk about my sad past. And it has occurred to me that I’ve been an insensitive prick and never once given you the chance to talk about yours.”

“Well, to be fair, I have carefully and meticulously designed every interaction we’ve ever had in order to specifically avoid talking about me.” Alarion grins. His cheery, sarcastic mask is as adorable as it is heartbreaking.

Anders chuckles sadly. He knows he is joking, but...

“I”m kidding, Anders! I told you, I’m not hiding anything.”

“I know,” he sighs.

Alarion squeezes his hands again, lowering his chin a little from that roguish smirk he usually wears when he’s about to stand up on his tiptoes and peck Anders on the nose. “But if you genuinely would like to know, we can talk about it.”

“Only if you want to,” he mutters.

“I would. A little. Maybe more, eventually. But first, a kiss? You’re blushing, and it’s cute.”

Part of a “series” (you can hardly call it that, honestly) of short, silly drabbles about each of my rogues and their animal inspirations, “Brief Studies on the Nature of Stealth,” on AO3 [link in notes cuz tumblr doesn’t know how to play nice, I guess].

#dragon age #anders #oc alarion #nature of stealth #raccoon

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kamekamelea · 4 years

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Never tell me the odds

Hello @fezzle! Here’s an early Halloween gift for you for the @b99fandomeventsfall fic challenge! I got super inspired by your prompts and it was hard to choose one to write but I hope you’re happy with the outcome <3

Special thanks go to @amydancepants-peralta for all your precious help with this one! You’re a true angel 💖 And thank you @b99peraltiago for your moral support and patience with my rants about this fic 💕

also, it’s super fun to be part of this challenge once again 😊❤

read on ao3 (bc it’s kinda too long for tumblr)

How has she once again fallen a victim to Gina’s trick?

The bet was supposed to be an easy win for Santiago, but somehow Gina managed to outwit her (or rather, as Amy assumed, cheat). And the defeat was bitter. The defeat was Gina choosing a costume for Santiago for the Halloween party held at Linetti’s. Was the result different, Linetti would be forced to go to any nerdy event of Amy’s choice and the latter just briefly wonders if such outcome would make Gina suffer equally. Because Amy’s misery right now is enormous.

The misery being her wearing a Chewbacca costume, of all possible choices Gina could’ve made.

The costume is thick, doesn’t let any air in or out and the smell inside the upper part is overwhelming in the worst sense. But now it’s too late to start looking for a new one, Amy thinks, standing in front of the door to Gina’s apartment and she knows Linetti won’t let her in, her wearing only yoga pants and a t-shirt under her costume. So she follows Rosa inside, her shoulders slumped. Not that anyone would notice in the bush of fake Wookie fur.

There are cheap Halloween decorations all around Gina’s apartment - plastic pumpkins put on every free surface, tacky spiders and bats hanging from door frames and lamps. The cups have skeletons imprinted on them and a big bowl is standing in the middle of the kitchen, filled with a suspiciously looking red jello, which, as Amy assumes, is supposed to look like blood. It’s not sophisticated (what is expected from a students’ party) but Amy admires Linetti’s dedication to decor. In the corner, far back in the living room, stands an occasionally screaming witch, scaring off from time to time those who come closer to the drinks table.

And Amy would love to get drunk as fast as possible but it is not really an option in that suit - it’s hard to walk in it being sober, she can only imagine how worse it would get after alcohol circulating in her system. So she stands in front of the makeshift bar, full of the cheapest beer and wine, with a few bottles of tequila and vodka in the back of it, and contemplates the reasons behind her desperate need to show up here tonight. Why did she oblige to Gina’s stupid terms just for the sake of one party? She doesn’t even like Halloween that much...

Oh, right. Because her private life is a disaster.

She’s nearing the end of college, satisfied with her results - it’s a good feeling to have the highest grades, a scholarship and University authorities’ recognition. Yet at what cost? While going through her university experience, she has kinda forgotten about one important life’s detail - people. And Amy’s been in a weird place recently, getting to know new people becoming harder and harder with age. Her being stuck in a small crowd of friends, people she loved with all of her heart, but even they’ve kept telling her to take some air. A breath of clear air that comes with a new friendship.

However, Amy has always been a bit weird with people, add to it her geekiness and OCD, it really doesn’t create the best combination for being popular. Even if she has never craved for popularity, it also doesn’t help in creating deep bonds with people she keeps close to herself. One of those people being Rosa Diaz, her classmate from high school, with whom she managed to form some kind of meaningful relationship. It was a hard task - Diaz being a human form of a brick wall, and Amy having her own struggles with opening to people - but in the end Amy was over the moon when their friendship developed, reaching a level where the other Latina agreed to become roommates as the time for college came.

And it’s not that she doesn’t like to be around people, no. It’s just that if she was to describe the feeling that overcomes her after spending too much time with an acquaintance she would use the noun discomfort. Because there is always a wall, a wall of politeness and courtesy, that blocks Amy from being her true self around most people. Those are rules of dealing with people and Amy loves to follow rules.

Surprisingly, a weird easiness Amy finds also in Linetti’s company, Rosa’s girlfriend of few months. Even though Gina never noticed Amy in high school (and still doesn’t believe she and Santiago actually attended some classes together, even when she showed her some pictures on the school’s website, always chortling right in her face when Amy brings it up) and only hangs out with her because of one Netflix account Rosa shares with Amy, which forces them to often watch TV together.

And when Gina invited Amy to her Halloween party (after Rosa elbowed her hard in the ribs) Amy thought it might be a good opportunity to step out of her comfort zone. Of course Linetti had to do it her way, coming up with the whole bet idea and again, Amy agreed because if there is one thing she loves more than following rules it’s competition. And she calculated her chances well - doing some calculus of probability is actually one of her hobbies, but somehow Gina, being the sneaky girl that she is, fooled her anyway.

It is a spooky season indeed, Amy thinks, her demons chasing her on this last day of October.

All of a sudden, Amy’s small pity party gets interrupted, as a pair of unknown arms encircles her from behind and an unexpected impact makes her wobble. But the arms are strong and they keep her in place.

“There you are, Chewie! I was worried the Stormtroopers finally got you!” Someone shouts loudly right into her ear and if it wasn’t for the mask, she would have lost her hearing for sure.

The arms let go of her, making it possible for her to turn to the source of the voice, which sounds somehow familiar, even in this noise of a crowded party. Through the small holes which are supposed to be Chewie’s eyes she sees a snippet of an ecru shirt and black vest. What she doesn’t see is a face, so she tilts her head in a weird angle to inspect it. And then a big smile shows, and sparkling brown eyes and a head of messy curls.

Amy knows this face, she just has trouble to match it with a name.

“Come on, Chewie! Don’t you recognize your best friend?!” The smile only grows bigger (if that’s even possible) and for a reason unknown to Amy it makes her blush. God bless the mask.

“Is this supposed to be a Han Solo costume?” she asks, her tone maybe a bit too sharp given he’s been nothing but nice, with this beam of his and friendly attitude. There was no reason whatsoever for her to go into her defensive mode. Her blush deepens.

“Oh, come on! It’s obvious I’m Han - I even have a gun, look!” The man, she still can’t remember the name of, reaches to his back pocket and takes out the tackiest plastic gun she’s ever seen.

She actually chuckles at his attempt to roll the gun on his finger, even if it’s a failed one. “Yeah, so much better now, Han Solo.”

“It’s Jake actually.” He smiles and then it clicks.

“Right, Jake Peralta!” She points her finger at him in a weird satisfactory gesture, excited she managed to finally to remember and only then she realizes how awkward it must have looked.

That’s why she should’ve stayed at home.

Jake’s brows furrow in a confused impression, though the smirk is still there, so she hurries with an explanation. “We went to high school together.”

They did go to the same school, true. And that’s it. They’ve never exchanged a word, him probably oblivious to her existence, but she knew him of course, because who didn’t really? The goofball, school’s clown, his jokes capable to charm even the strictest of teachers. He wasn’t maybe the most popular boy in school, but his personality was just so loud it was catching Amy’s attention, besides she enjoyed watching him interacting with others. He made it look so easy. Just coming by to a random person to chat about nothing in particular and bonding. Never seemed so easy for her. Maybe if he would’ve come up to her, it would have been easy as well? But he never did, so those thoughts are pointless.

(Most of the time he would be wearing that trademark grin of his proudly, but there were times Amy saw him walking in contemplation through a secluded hallway, his gaze wistful and lips pursed and if someone was to actually talk to him, he would put on a smile Amy knew was fake.)

“That’s so cool! Gina invited so many random people, it’s gonna be so nice to see a familiar face. Well, if you decide to finally let go of that mask, Chewie.”

He’s going to be so disappointed seeing a face of yet another stranger.

But she grasps the mask and struggles for a second and only with a slight help from Jake she manages to get it off.

“You probably don’t re...” she rushes to explain but gets interrupted by an excited scream.

“Oh my God, Amy Santiago?! In a Chewbacca costume!”

Jake giggles like crazy, and with his whole body, but Amy doesn’t feel offended by his reaction because the laugh doesn’t sound like a mean one, and it is a hilarious sight of her in that costume. First and foremost though her mind can only focus on one thing now - he knows her name.

His laugh is contagious, so she lets herself to chuckle timidly, and is amazed how easy it is to just laugh with a person she has just met.

“Wow, Amy Santiago, I didn’t take you for a person to wear a Chewbacca costume. I love it.” he says once their giggles die a bit and Amy wishes the mask was still in place to cover the redness of her cheeks.

“Not my choice really. But now that my sweat has mixed with all the sweat of people who wore this costume before me, I don’t even mind it anymore.”

The words leave her mouth and her hand twitches to slap herself for making it the most awkward small talk ever. According to good manners, this is not how you talk to person you barely know. Especially if that person has such mesmerizing eyes and cute smile. Bringing up sweat isn’t a sexy thing to say. Not that she wants to be received as sexy.

(Even if she wanted, it’s hard to accomplish it wearing the most shapeless and fury costume ever. This is like the opposite of sexy.)

“Sounds sexy!” His right brow rises in a funny way as he chuckles but Amy has only half the mind to admire this adorable sight, because the other half is amazed - looks like small talks don’t have to feel weird and forced after all. He must’ve taken her shocked expression as a wrong sign though, because for the first time the smile disappears from his face as he starts to explain. “Just kidding! I’m so sorry, this was so inappropriate. I made it super weird, didn’t I?”

“Super weird is actually my comfort zone, so thank you for finally lowering your standards of social interactions to my level.” It’s actually so true, Amy realizes, and is surprised it was easier to admit it to Jake than to herself for such long time. He takes it though only as a pretty dark joke probably, the beam finding its designated place on Jake’s face again, giving Amy no choice than to reciprocate it.

“You know what would be the coolest thing ever?” Jake suddenly exclaims excitedly. “Us together taking part in the costume contest.”

“What contest?...”

“Gina is holding a competition for matching costumes, since she really wants people to praise her costume idea for her and Rosa.”

“Who are they dressing up as? Rosa refused to tell me when I asked her about the blonde wig.”

“I think she’s supposed to be Portia and Gina’s dressing up as Ellen Degeneres.”

Yeah, Amy can see now why Rosa seemed so uncomfortable in her costume, probably preferring to wear a more gloomy outfit. But, there are worse things people do for love, and Amy is moved by Diaz’s gesture to make her girlfriend happy.

“So, wanna take part?” He prompts further cheerfully. “Being honest, I think it’s a destiny you and I both came wearing Star Wars costumes. And they match in the best way possible!”

Amy doesn’t know what makes her agree eventually, after Jake - a man she doesn’t really know - gives her a countless number of arguments (none of which makes sense) about the brilliance of his idea. She’s of course quick to correct him.

“The form you’re looking for is “brilliantness”. “Brilliance” refers to something exceptionally effulgent.”

He then mocks her know-it-all tone (giving it a weird British vibe), but in a way that makes her laugh, and she willingly indulges into a banter that goes on for a while. And somehow the result of it is her saying yes to that proposition.

Despite the thick layer of the Chewie costume, she feels a spark going through her nerves when Jake grabs her hand to pull her towards Gina, person in charge.

~~READ THE REST ON AO3~~

#b99fandomevents #b99 fall 2019 fic exchange #b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jake x amy #jake x amy fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #halloween meet-cute #i know i kinda twisted one of your other prompts #😅😂#hope you don't mind #and that you like it ❤#my writing #kasia writes #mine

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edward-richtofen-queen · 5 years

Text

Lost Girl's Lullaby ★Chapter Two★

Masterlist

Chapter One | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Fandom: Dead by Daylight (Hallowed Blight Event)

Character(s): All Killers (Focused on Blight Cosmetics), All Survivors (Focused on Blight Cosmetics), Female!Reader, Vigo (Mentioned), Benedict Baker (Mentioned)

Relationship(s): All Killers/Reader (Friends), All Survivors/Reader (Acquaintances), Phillip Ojomo | The Wraith/Reader

Overview: It had been months since you'd arrived in the place you had inevitably been placed in—The Fog as it was named. You understood the basis of how to survive and escape, but you were drastically different than the others—you sympathized with the people and creatures that were hurting you and your so called friends; You remembered vividly your first day of being in the realm. What will you do when The Blight appears and takes over your little world? Which side will you end up on—Killers or Survivors?

Warning(s) for this Chapter: Sympathy for Killers

Chapter Song Inspiration: Phantom of the Opera—Prague Cello Quartet

Notes: Welcome back! This chapter was highly requested after the first one! It was extremely fun to write and took a long while to create. There will be some implied ships—mostly killers/killers and survivors/survivors (and maybe some killer/survivor)—so if you don't like them being together, please ignore them (It's not really important to the story, but I like the interactions they will make in the future). Also important—the killers and survivors won't be able to use each other's perks, they're stuck with their own and the "free" ones. Maybe in the future I'll let them use each other's? Anyway, thank you so much for the love and support and I hope you enjoy! Journal Entries from the DBD Wiki!

Dedications: @daylightbydead, @insearchofnewdreams, @irageneve and @ameliafireheart!

Taglist: N/A

✼⋅•⋅•⋅⊱•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•∙∘❆༓❆∘∙•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⊰⋅•⋅•⋅✼

Killer Campfire—The Fog

"Well, it does seem we have another survivor on our hands, don't we?" The smooth and deep voice from the large man in front of you made you shiver—you were in some trouble, weren't you? Your mouth had sealed itself shut, not saying a word as you cowered under his unnerving gaze. The other killers, made up of creatures and humans alike, seemed just as silent as a thick blanket of tension was placed over the camp. Behind you, The Wraith placed his hands comfortingly on your shoulders, his mere familiar presence a warming comfort.

"Since no one seems to want to speak—or some of you who refuse or are unable to—I will introduce myself and yourselves. It seems you've already met Phillip, The Wraith," He gestures an open hand to the man behind you as he makes a soft purr noise from his throat. "I am Evan Macmillan, known as The Trapper in trials. The large woman at the start of the row is Anna—The Huntress." The woman known as Anna wears a beautifully crafted bunny mask aged and weathered, a large axe resting in her hands as hatchets dangled at her waist. She only nods her head, a tune vibrating inside her throat as she hummed.

Several minutes later, you had introduced to everyone as you stayed silent and acknowledged them as they did you. Only a couple seemed to really speak—like Herman Carter; The Doctor along with Freddy Krueger; The Nightmare. Oddly enough, for killers meeting you for the first time they didn't seem as unwelcoming as the survivors were. Everyone seemed to make conversation as normal as Phillip picked you up and sat down, having you extremely close to make sure no rouge killer would try to kill you. Sally, the woman dressed in all white from head to toe, floated over to the log you were seated on. "Phillip's taken quite the interest in you, hasn't he?" She speaks softly and sweetly to you as you feel Phillip stir behind you.

"He's very sweet," You finally speak, his lips pressed to your forehead again. "Well, I'm here to fill you in for what Evan missed out on," Sally speaks, fixing her gown as she sits properly on the log. "You will encounter us each at least once this week. Depending on who you go against, they'll try and go easy on you so you can learn what they do. Once you fully develop your potential and perks, we'll treat you like any other survivor in trials but treat you normally outside of them," Sally's sweet voice explains in an almost professional voice as you nod.

"The Entity has taken an interest in you as well, she's letting you see us out of trials—Anyway, she dropped off a gift for you," Sally hums, a frail journal in her hands as she hands it over. It looks extremely old, dust painting the top and the pages ripped and yellowed brown. Opening the journal, you skimmed through the pages to see beautifully written cursive aged into its pages. Some of the pages didn't have dates on them, but one section of the journal was stuffed to the brim with paper on top of its entry. "Do you happen to know what day it is, Miss Smithson?" You ask politely as she nods. "It's October 12th, I believe—may I ask why you ask?"

You nod as your fingers brush over the words October 19th on the top of the page. "Just seeing if these dates line up." She leans over to look at the page and is confused under her pillow case. The date she can read, but the actual entry itself was definitely not in any type of language she'd ever read but she internally shrugs. You yelp as Phillip picks you up suddenly, carrying you like a bride as Sally gave a soft giggle. "It seems like it's time for you to go back to your camp. Trials start up too soon it seems. Please come back to visit sometime, will you?"

Carrying you back into the woods, the welcoming chill of the thick fog made the atmosphere oddly comforting. The loud chatter of survivors in the distance made Phillip stop and set you down, his hands grazing your own as he leaves a goodbye kiss to your knuckles. You blush as you lean to kiss his cheek in the same manner with a large, goofy smile on your face. He turns and wails his bell as he disappears into the darkness, you finding Claudette among the crowd to sit next to.

★。＼｜／。★

"I think Phillip's got himself a new obsession."

"It seems more like an infatuation than an obsession—he isn't a obsessive killer, you know."

"You know what I mean, Herman."

"Don't sass me, Evan."

★。＼｜／。★

The cool wisps of fog slid from your form as you arrive in your second trial that day, this place flourishing in dead corn stalks and another large decrepit home. A shack sat eerily in the corner of the the realm as very large unmoving tractors sitting parallel across from each other. The sound of a whirring chainsaw made you click to the only two people who wielded them back at the campfire—The Hillbilly or The Cannibal. Moving amongst the thick stalks, the sound of a chainsaw made you jump to the side as The Hillbilly ran (more like flew) past you. He had no heartbeat for some reason as a generator finished in the direction he was running to. Maybe that was one of his perks Sally was speaking of?

You crept to an opening in the field to find Claudette working on a generator as you whispered to her to let your presence be known. Leaning to work on the generator with her, another male (Dwight as you remembered) came to work with you as well. He seemed nervous and paranoid twenty-four seven, but one of his perks seemed to help the generator proceed a little faster than before. He tries conversation, which you oblige to as you try to get to know him. The sound of a distant chainsaw made you shiver, a bad feeling boiling in your gut. "We've got to move—!" You yelp as you push Dwight from the Generator as The Hillbilly practically barrels to hit the large piece of machinery.

Scurrying away, your feet hit the ground hard as you ran. Turning around, the speeding figure hit your back as pain spread throughout your back while you let out a pain as you tumbled to the ground. The Hillbilly gave a pained whine as he lowered his chainsaw, patting your head in apology. Leaving you on the floor, he shook his head in apology once more as he revved his chainsaw and ran away from you. Claudette was by your side a minute later, a med kit snug in her grasp. Popping open the red container, she started by rubbing a disinfectant over your wounds. "I didn't know he'd come after you," She spoke softly, wrapping your wounds tightly as you hiss in pain.

"I have—Ow! To get used to this pain if I plan—Oww! On surviving," You speak through locked teeth. Claudette hums in response as your able to stand once again, your wounds had magically disappeared and you felt new again. "Trust me, the hooks are much worse," She warns as you follow behind her quickly. She then explains the do's and do not's of going against the killer. "You know a lot about him, Claudette—I don't know whenever to take that as a good thing or a bad thing," You coo teasingly as she blushes.

"He's just a kind person at heart, even if he looks drastically different from us—he's still a human being," Claudette speaks, her voice having an undertone of sorrow and pity. Your hand finds her shoulder as you give her a smile. "He deserves respect regardless of his appearance—very well said, Claudette," You praise, her face churning in happiness. The trial didn't last that much longer after that, Nea being Memento Mori'd because she lingered too long in the trial after the gates were open and everyone being hooked at least once.

Being enveloped in the darkness as you ran from the exit gates, you were dropped into the killer camp once again. There were less killers than before, most likely in trials as you has been moments ago. Herman Carter sat in a proper chair—which was odd considering the fact of it being a campsite. His white irises caught yours as the tight mouth guards came loose to fall to the sides of his face. Curious of the mysterious man, you crept to him as he slipped a pair of slightly cracked reading glasses to his nose.

"Little minx, it's been a short while. How was your trial? Get hooked for the first time?" His voice struck bells of whiskey and honey as he spoke, groveling at each word that slipped from his chocolate lips. You shrug at his first question and nod to his second, the journal still hooked to your hip. A smile played on his lips as he examined you and psychologically analyzed you—you were different, he figured. The Entity was picky with her choices in survivors and killers, and the fact that a survivor was so able to mingle with the killers after trials if they willed it was fascinating.

"What make you different?" He asks, his finger under your chin as you closed your eyes. You trusted him by will and heart, even though your mind was sending you different signals. To follow your heart or to follow your brain? Shaking your head to yourself, you settle on a log not too far from Bubba (his nickname) as he polishes his chainsaw. You decided to crack open the journal and begin to read, fingers following the words as you looked over them.

❝19 October - The Night

It is impossible to describe the horrifying scenes I have witnessed... death and misery, in every shape of terror, rule this place. I can no longer recall how I have come to this place. All I remember is the opaque, milky fumes of opium in the murky den hazing a sweet, welcoming abyss. I awoke to dreadful screams in this endless night, at the feet an old tree that leaked foul-smelling fluids. I know not how to reach those poor souls, nor do I want to. Keeping a record is all I can do to make sense of it.❞

Closing the journal, hands wrapped around your eyes as you stiffened. The familiar purr of Phillip eased your still frame. Sitting down next to you, you lay your head against his shoulder as you ease to sleep. When you awoke in your dream, your world was black—pitch black but enough to make sure it wasn't too dark, more like a grayish black than midnight. A voice called out to you in the darkness, it's voice layered in thick whispers.

Hello, Little Lamb

#dead by daylight fanfic #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight wraith #dead by daylight #phillip ojomo x reader #lost girls lullaby series #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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uselessnocturnal · 5 years

Text

promises we’ve made

parkner | orpheus and eurydice au | chapter one | underneath his wing

summary; a parkner au of hadestown and the myth of orpheus and eurydice

“How far would you go for Harley?”

"To the end of time.” Peter says firmly, gripping his mask in one hand, “to the end of the universe.”

"It’s no spaceship,” Tony warns him, “Getting to Thanos is not an easy path – not for the sensitive of souls”

He pauses. "So do you really wanna go?”

"With all my heart.”

Tony regards him. “Well, that’s a start.”

chapter summary;

“Hermes? Like the Greek god?”

“Shhh,” he raises a finger to his lips and leans in slightly, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I’m incognito. Call me Tony. Tony Stark.”

“A god called Tony?” Peter asks sceptically, as though that’s the weirdest thing he’s seen today.

Tony draws back in mock offence, “Yeah, shut up kid.”

notes; I've planned every chapter for except the last cos I still don't know how it will end oops. Inspiration from Hadestown and also some Percy Jackson because that series was the foundation for all my Greek mythology knowledge. It's my first mcu fic that I've /actually/ written and first parkner fic. Let me know if you have any questions because this universe is probably a bit confusing cos I have merged...everything.

read here on ao3!

---

As many Greek tales begin, this one starts with a god and a mortal. And, as many Greek tales do, it ends with tragedy. Still, there is always the slightest belief that perhaps this time, this time the story might just turn out differently.

Hermes spends a lot of his time in the mortal realm. As the god of messages and travelling, Zeus doesn’t even know how busy he is - what with all the up and coming technology and developments and aliens!His immortal life just got a whole lot more interesting.

Even so, he only ever watches them as they scurry about their fleeting lives - some search for meaning, some scrambling to leaving a mark on their world - really, it is fascinating. And yet, rarely does he interact with them.

To be fair, few believe the gods of Ancient Greece actually exist anymore. Demigod children and rare and far apart (he’s not quite sure how Zeus has managed to keep it in his pants - it’s almost impressive) and have practically died out. They had sworn an oath to no longer consort with mortals but really, when has a little thing like consequences ever bothered the gods?

No. Hermes tries not to interfere with mortal lives. More often than not, the gods’ involvement only ends in doom. Still, he’s only one god whose impulse control is his father’s threats and in the past century or so, he’s been involved with two mortal lives: once was an accident and the other by choice. And somehow, by a strange twist of fate, these two lives collide.

Ultimately, it’s their story that’s being told.

It mostly starts when he meets Peter Parker.

He’d watched the boy for a while now. Never before had he seen someone so well-intentioned and pure of heart and so, so willing to throw himself into all sorts of unnecessary danger. Hermes isn’t one to get attached (mortals die too quickly and too easily) but he can feel the fondness growing for the boy and he did not want to see him die if he could do anything about it.

You see, Peter Parker was also Queens’ friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. And every night he dresses up in red and blue pyjamas and goes out stopping petty crime in his city. It’s rather noble, Hermes decides, though if the kid could try his best not to get shot and fix himself up on his fire escape in the middle of the night, it would do wonders for Hermes’ immortal heart.

For all the oaths they’ve sworn about not having any more demigod children blah blah blah, not once has Zeus said anything about just…talking – maybe mentoring? – a random mortal. Of course, Hermes is going to take advantage of the loophole and chooses to do something about Peter Parker. Technically he’s not breaking any rules.

And so, Hermes starts to scheme.

It’s been a while since he talked to a mortal so obviously, he needs to make sure he doesn’t come across as a crazy person. Turns out, he’s not a huge fan of planning and decides to turn up outside the door of the Parker residence the next day.

He takes the form of a mortal – wears a business suit, a funky pair of orange-tinted sunglasses, throws on an odd goatee he must’ve seen on a poster and gives himself a moment to adjust to the vulnerability and smallness of a human (he’s so short this is ridiculous!).

He still doesn’t have a plan.

He’s a god, he doesn’t need that. The kid’s a mere fifteen years old – a complete baby! – and Hermes is just here to provide some extra protection.

Really though, all he did was find all the tech Peter might need to make a new-and-improved-not-just-cotton Spidey suit and shove it into a purple paper gift bag.

The door flies open.

Hermes hasn’t even rung the bell.

Peter stands in the doorway, eyes alert like he’s expecting some sort of attack. Hermes tries not to show his surprise and hopes that the wings on his shoes don’t make an appearance because that would be incredibly difficult to explain.

The two stare at each other for a while.

“Uh…who are you?”

Hermes opens his mouth to answer when Peter’s gaze drops and fixates on Hermes’ shoes. Or more specifically, the wings that seem to have taken a mind of their own and flutter nervously by his ankles.

His mouth drops open almost comically. “Hermes? Like the Greek god?”

Now, Hermes is stunned. How the kid’s perceptiveness slipped his notice he has no idea. He tries not to flinch at the use of his godly name, straightens up and pulls a smirk onto his face.

“Shhh,” he raises a finger to his lips and leans in slightly, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I’m incognito. Call me Tony. Tony Stark.”

“A god called Tony?” Peter asks sceptically, as though that’s the weirdest thing he’s seen today.

HermesTony draws back in mock offence, “Yeah, shut up kid.”

Peter’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion but he nods slowly.

“What are you doing here, Mr Herm- Mr Stark?”

“I want to discuss something with you.”

When Peter doesn’t make a move to bring Tony in and perhaps give them some form of secrecy, Tony rolls his eyes and juts a thumb into the flat, “Private matters. Of the arachnid sort.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he practically drags Tony – he is a god! – into the flat.

“What are you talking about?” Peter hisses, suddenly on the alert again.

“Look, kid. I’ve seen what you can do and I’m not gonna stop you. Nor am I going to out you. I do think you’re doing good.”

As Peter flushes slightly at the praise, Tony ploughs on, “But then again, I don’t want you dying anytime soon so I’ve found some tech that you can use to make a suit that can protect you better than those pyjamas.”

He holds up a hand to stop Peter’s protests, “I know you have the skill to make your own stuff – I’ve seen your webshooters in action – this is just for your own safety.”

By the gods he sounds like a mother. He’s known of this kid for a couple months and he’s already attached. There’s no way this will end well.

He lets his hand fall, allowing the kid to speak. “Well, questions?”

“This is amazing Mr Stark! Thank you! But…” Peter starts, slowing his tone, “when you say found the tech did you mean…steal from Hephaestus?”

Tony splutters indignantly because no, he had actually asked nicely! but when he sees Peter stifling his laughter, he lets his lips quirk up in the smallest of smiles.

“You’re gonna be the death of me kid.”

#fanfic!#Hadestown au #orpheus and eurydice #modern au #greek mythology #parkner #spiderlad #Peter parker #harley keener #Tony stark #hermes #marvel trash #greek mythology au #lyss writes

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a7xjoker33-blog · 6 years

Text

The Summoner's Tales: Chapter 1 - Any Day in June

Prompt: Origin Story for your summoner. What was it like to be summoner to Askr?

A puff of smoke appeared at the base of the large stone structure etched with a carving of the the world tree. Standing a good seven feet or so tall, the tablet never ceased giving off a simultaneous air of mystery and contempt. On the one hand, the fact that it acted as the portal through which so many worlds, times and realities could be connected with and drawn into this one was an awe-inspiring concept. Something so simple as a giant stone holding such importance. On the other hand, any summoner would know the pain of standing in front of the altar for hours on end, wishing and praying for some act of kindness and fair play, only to be met with the cold indifference of random chance. The stone tablet was just that - a stone tablet, but damn if I didn't yell at it time and again hoping beyond hope that it would sense my frustration and reward my efforts.

I often considered the likelihood of there being other realities where other summoners stood as I did on that platform in front of the tablet, firing Breidablik and their dwindling ration of orbs into the heart of the beast. How many were lucky? How many summoned the heroes they so desperately wanted? How many quit out of frustration and left their new-found home behind? How many were drunkenly doing so only to wake up in their castle cots the next morning to the surprise of new allies and fewer orbs? Had anyone ever tried special trick shots? Did those help at all? Maybe if one were to sing a thematic song......

"Smoke? That's a good omen! I wonder who might be joining us today..."

Lucina's voice beside me on the right snapped me out of those wandering thoughts. A quick shake of the head then refocused me on that infernal and beautiful stone structure a few yards before me in the summoning plaza on the Askrian castle grounds. A small audience accompanied me to the event that day. Well, small given the size of the barracks at the castle. To my right stood Lucina, hand resting on her Falchion blade holstered at her side; the mightiest weapon among the worlds we'd been summoning from and interacting with for months on end. A weapon of legend which had continued to evolve and develop as she fought here at my side; still not even close to as impressive as the girl who wielded it.

As he did in most things, Robin stood right next to her, tome open to record the summons of this day. I always knew I could trust Robin to offer sound advice and strategies for our battles here with the Askrians. His calm nature and tactical mind had been boons since the first day I arrived in the kingdom, and we would often find ourselves discussing anything from odd histories of the various realms to the status of our troops and allies. Sometimes our conversations were over things as simple as the ruffled mops of hair we each wore upon on our heads. We each knew how similar our roles were to one another, and that along with our dorky personalities led to us becoming fast friends. He and Lucina were two of my most trusted comrades. They in turn were as thick as thieves with one another, sharing a bond stronger than any other two members of this makeshift army I had stumbled into commanding.

"Think it will be anyone cute? I bet it's a cute girl. Pleeeeeaaaassssseeeee let it be someone cute! Lucy - cross your fingers with me!"

Lucina couldn't help but chuckle at that. Robin smiled and shook his head. To my left a few paces off and no longer leaning against the tree she had been a few minutes ago was Soleil; the happy-go-lucky girl who made each day with the army a bit more fun. By this point she was leaning forward, crossing the fingers on each of her gloved hands, bouncing a bit as she eagerly awaited to see a cute face appear out of the smoke. It didn't matter the day or fight our group faced. That girl made them all easier to endure. None of us were ever quite sure how she managed to do it. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't even maintain the group's spirits as well as the girl with long pink locks and an heirloom headband from her grandmother. Her charisma was a blessing that I envied. I mean, I find myself to be a pretty fun guy (fairly good-looking to boot, I'd say!), but that girl could flash you a smile and you'd climb a mountain for her!

Beyond being the sunshine of my day most everyday and trying to ask every girl and guy in the army she found cute out to tea, I was amazed to see her rise to prominence as quite possibly the best fighter in the army. I often wondered between she and Lucina who really would have won that title. Lucina wondered it too, as it turned out. Even challenged Soleil to a friendly match one day to try and answer the question. Several of us in the mess hall had noticed Lucina approaching Soleil with an air of excitement. Lucy still had that bit of her father in her - that drive to be the best, Chrom’s competitive spirit. She wasn't about to learn someone in the army had surpassed her skill with a sword and do nothing about it . If that were the case, she needed to know so she could retake the title. Never did get the answer, though. Best as Robin and I can figure after watching the conversation from a distance? Lucina got caught off-guard by Soleil's flirtations and thought Soleil was leaving for the barracks to grab her sword.

Soleil returned with a personal teapot and two cups. Robin and I both rolled with laughter as Lucina found herself on a tea-date with Soleil for the next hour. To her credit, Lucy seemed to enjoy it as well. Both girls knew they were the best in the army. Soleil just didn't really care to prove it like Lucina did. She was much happier to just lift the spirits of a girl who often found herself burdened with her own past and the memories of what she had lost. Had to love that about Soleil; flirtatious to a fault? Perhaps, but there wasn't a person alive who you'd rather spend time around than the happy-go-lucky girl with a smile as bright as the sun and a penchant for sass.

"Whomever it is, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends!"

Speaking of outgoing personalities.....Sharena, Anna and Alfonse stood behind me; the original three members of this army that had now grown to over fifty individuals strong. So many faces coming and going; some that had grown with us and others that had left promptly or who had passed on their knowledge of skills. Yet the Askrian prince and princess and their commander-at-arms still were here, fighting what at times felt like a losing battle against the forces of Muspell. It always felt as though we were fighting back a predestined endgame, but the bouncy princess, lord of benches and avaricious commander still stymied the tides of enemies pouring out of the fire kingdom.

Also in the audience were what I liked to refer to as Lucina's split-personalities. Lancina, Marthcina and Bunncina. Lucina was surprised the first time she came face to face with not herself - with the Lucina who still wore her butterfly mask picked out by Selena and Gerome in another time and reality years ago and insisted she be called “Marth.” It was an odd thing seeing her explain to this past version of herself that the war to stop Grima was progressing well and that she - the masked version - would get to meet Chrom as Lucina and not as Marth in the near future whenever she left this new realm. The second time when she met a version of herself wielding a lance and wearing a garb similar to her father's promoted attire things went a bit smoother. By the time Spring Lucy rolled into the plaza, the welcome party of Lucinas was well-versed on how to break the odd news. Nowadays they had formed the most powerful squad in the army, though giving orders to "Lucina" often led to a harmonic chorus reply of "yes?"

We.....we quickly assigned nicknames after that. They always liked to be there to welcome whomever appeared and show them around the castle. Masked and Spring Lucina were always paired together while Brave Lucina often would converse with her partner-in-crime on the battlefield Soleil. Today she exchanged smiling glances with her OG self at Soleil's desire to see another cute face around the castle.

Last among the ranks was the red-haired pegasus knight of Ylisse Cordelia, who had asked many months ago to watch as I summoned. What exactly she expected to gain from watching me, I have no idea, as I'm fairly certain she is unable to use the magic gun of summons, headaches and heartaches. But I didn't want to crush her spirits. She always watched so intently, as though she felt she was on the verge of figuring it out. I let her try one time when only the two of us were in the plaza. She actually did manage to get something to happen, though I imagine being blasted backwards via some weird backfire onto her butt wasn't what she had in mind. Made me promise to never tell anyone that story. Oops....

The smoke began to clear as the central orb of the summoning tablet continued to glow red through the haze.

"I am Eldigan. Those who defy my lord will meet my blade. But I trust that you and I will have no such problem."

The Lionhearted paladin himself: Eldigan. One of the most powerful cavalrymen among the realms; the wielder of the mighty Mystletainn blade. First time he'd ever appeared in this realm. That would be sure to make his sister and niece in the barracks quite happy. Particularly his sister. Sweet girl, but good lord the girl has a weird obsession with her brother. Come to think of it.......

"Wait! Someone else is coming through!"

Right. Had had enough orbs to fire twice at the tablet. The centerpiece orbs still glowed a crimson red as the Lucina Squad led Eldigan and his horse into the castle. I wondered who would appear this time? A news bulletin from the Order's feathered messenger Feh had imparted that new summons had an increased chance of pulling from the world of Elibe and the time of Nergal's Campaign against Lycia. For long nights I had wondered where these messages were coming from that Feh was bringing back to the castle. A couple of nights I tried to stay awake with Soleil; each of us taking turns watching the dainty owl as she slept atop her perch, hoping to see her take off to some location allowing us to trail her. Inevitably though we each fell asleep leaning back to back against one another, only to wake up to the morning sun and find that the owl had brought back another seemingly omniscient message. The little owl just smiled and hooted, flapping her wings. Taunting us with a secret she wouldn't share.......cocky little bird. We'll see if you get any of Oscar's cake later.....okay, probably like a slice, but I'm not giving it to you right away. You'll have to wait at least five minutes.

A long black-haired woman wearing a ceremonial garb of the plains people of Sacae stepped forward out of the smoke. A sword hung from her belt to one side, and her grey eyes conveyed a look of confusion at her new surroundings.

"I am Karla. This place is very strange....Who might you be?"

"Karla? I'm not familiar with any legends of her. Mike, have you?"

Catching Robin unfamiliar with a hero was always a small treat for me. He read so much within the Askrian library about the different legends, heroes and conquests from the different worlds that there was very little I knew anymore that he didn't. Little victories - they get you through the days. I did a little fist-pump to myself.

"I saw that, you know."

"I'm going to guess you two in the cloaks are in charge? A pity. Neither of you look to be much in the way of fighters. I sure hope....whatever this place is doesn't turn out to be a waste of time."

"Everyone, this is Karla. She's from the world of Elibe, particularly Lyn's home country of Sacae. Pretty sure the uh....garb and sword give that much away though. She's famed in the world as one of the best arena fighters in all the lands - a lethal swordmaster able to strike in a blur. You may also know her as the sister of Karel, the Sword Dem-"

"My brother is here?!? Does he carry the Wo Dao still? How does he fare? Wait, another question - how do you know that much about me?"

"In order? Karel is here in this realm, but not among us. Last we saw him was on the battlefield where we bested him. He's shown up occasionally since, always in fine health but never joining us. Second, yep, still has your family's sword with him. But uh.....feel I should let you know - that particular sword isn't quite so rare here."

I looked over at Soleil as she flourished her own version of the legendary sword with a smile and wink. A little figure eight pattern before re-sheathing it and a slight bow. I love how she can't help but show off a bit. Truthfully, I'd have done the same.

"That's.....perplexing."

"As for your last question, we are the Order of Heroes. Bit bland of a name, but hey, what can you do? I'm Mike, the summoner and tactician for the group. Turns out that this world is connected to many worlds. It acts a bridge of sorts; allowing heroes from different times and realms to venture to and from here. Sometimes, like with us, free to follow their own whims and train as they wish until they're called upon to return to their own times.

Sometimes they're bound by a contact when summoned to our enemies side to fight for that army. Pretty much the worst mercenary job you can think of. Just without the pay. Or....being a mercenary at all, I guess. Thing is, I'm not from this realm either. I came from another world - one where I've seen many of the endings to many of the stories and times all of the heroes here have lived through. Bit of a voyeuristic perspective, you might say. But at least it lets me know about you all and how to best help you."

"Sounds suspicious. What makes any of us sure we can fully trust you? Sounds like you may be no different than this opposing force of summoners. Wait, did you say army?"

"Ha. Fair point, I guess. Well, doubt I can convince you to believe in me by a simple conversation right off the bat. You're free to wander around this realm at your leisure. If you so choose, you can join us here at the castle as we continue to fight back an invading force hellbent on destroying this kingdom and the citizenry. There's plenty of room in our barracks and we could use your blade and skill. At the minimum, you'll find ample opportunity to train here. Lucina and Soleil are two of the best swordswomen I've ever met in any of the realms. They'll be every bit your match, and possibly better."

I winked at Lucina. She just raised her eyebrow as if to say in response “really?” I'd sadly gotten used to that reaction. Can't blame a guy for trying though, can you?

"You might even be surprised to find some familiar faces here! Believe you know a musclehead named Bartre?"

"Bartre is here? I thought he was still travelling with the new Marquess of Pherae."

"Pretty sure this Bartre is a bit older than the one you know. Which is good news and bad news! Good news! He's a bit more polished of a fighter than you probably remember! Also he's got a papa-stache now!"

"That man.....actually, I always did wonder how he'd look with facial hair. It's been awhile since we had our last training session. And the bad news?"

"You'll be seeing your future daughter here! Congrats! You're gonna be a mother!"

"WAIT, EXCUSE M-"

"I'll just leave you to it then! Cordelia, I'm sure you can introduce Karla to her family. Have fun!"

I whistled as I casually strolled away from the plaza, heading back towards the mess hall and my quarters beyond that. I'm fairly certain Karla was shouting some amount of obscenities at me as I walked away. Sometimes it's just best to let the heroes figure out some things for themselves, you know?

As we passed through the mess hall where some heroes were still eating their morning meals (late risers; I envied them, as that luxury had been lost to me since arriving here), Robin and I made plans to meet up at the training grounds later that afternoon to oversee a few friendly training matches, possibly even to set up an expedition to the local training tower a few miles out from the castle. I did hope Karla would choose to remain with us for some time. Her blade was as renowned in Elibean legend as her brother's. There was more I wish I could tell her. About how little time she'd have with her daughter, about how her brother would later find redemption and peace away from the battlefield, about how overjoyed Bartre would be today to see his wife one more time. Would she be taken aback to learn of her future? Perhaps, but circumstances being what they were, it's best to let her learn the major details right away. The rest could wait for later, and maybe longer still. It was always....difficult to determine how much to let Heroes know about their futures. Each hero would handle the knowledge differently, but it was consistently hard to tell how much was too much to let on. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

I made my way down the stone corridor between the mess hall in the center of the castle towards the barracks in the back. The midday sun streamed through the large openings on the left side of the corridor where windows would be back in my world. Another beautiful day in the kingdom, I thought to no one but myself. Ever since coming here, it was hard to deny that the kingdom of Askr had weather that would make anyone jealous. Plenty of sunny days and blue skies overlooking bountiful green farmlands and small villages. The air consistently felt crisp and clear. If I didn't know any better, I'd believe the castle to be near some large body of water. It never ceased to amaze me how.....light the air felt. I stopped for a moment just to breath the air in. I closed my eyes. I can't say it reminded me of home, but it did remind me of places I knew back in my world.

Beautiful places where civilization hadn't quite mired the natural landscape, where man had only brushed his hand along the Earthen surfaces rather than dug down deep as if to bend the dirt below to his own will. Places where you could pause to think and reflect. Places where you felt that if there were some greater power behind all of this creation, this was as close as you could find to their fingerprint on the world. A place where once I had been able to sit alone on an overcast day along a rocky beach and stare out into a cold, northern ocean mere miles from where my grandmother had grown up, half way around the world from anything I knew and just.....breath and think. Just look out to the horizon, and for a moment smile thinking that you were looking at the top of the world; taking in a moment to reflect on how small we all are in the grand scheme of things. No more significant or long-lasting than those pebbles on the beach. Constantly buffered around by waves of time and all just looking for somewhere to rest a minute.

I'd simultaneously found myself with plenty of time to think in this new world and little time to reflect on the small things with it. The burden of leadership, I suppose. It still all felt like a weird dream to me. One day you're driving to work, wallet and an old IPod classic circled by a pair of earbuds in one pocket and the next thing you know, you're falling from the sky into a ditch in a different world. Upside down with a massive headache; nothing to your name but a white embroidered cloak and a pocket with that IPod and wallet lining the inside of it. There stood a face I recognized from a series I enjoyed playing for hours on end. Anna, or some version of her wielding an odd white and gold-embroidered object that reminded me of one of the weird gun-shaped controllers some gamers would buy as an accessory for their consoles. I was kind of right. It was a gun. Turns out in their hour of need, Anna had found this.....Breidablik device and hoped it would summon the legendary hero that Askr had been promised. Instead they got me. A pale, glasses-wearing dorky extrovert with a mop of brown hair that never laid right, a slight beard that he could never decide if it was too long or too short, a sarcastic tongue and mind that got him into trouble more often than not for thinking he was one of the smarter guys in the room and a duality of confidence that shifted on any given day between cockiness and self-depreciation. Yay for them.

I'd had my fill of fresh air, so I turned from the corridor's opening and continued on towards the barracks. This was one of the few mornings I found myself with a bit of free time before the daily drills and marching. Things had been quiet from the Muspell front for a few days. Disconcerting, but hey - take the breaks you can get. I had plenty on my mind already, and only one thing was going to calm me down. I waved hello to a few of the passing heroes. Arden and Effie on their way to training grounds to most likely lift something heavy. Lazlow or Inigo or whatever he was going by that day was reminiscing with his mother appearing in her younger form about his time as a retainer for the Crown Prince of Nohr. Cecelia and Seigbert passed on their way to the library for lessons in diplomacy. Still mentoring young royalty in another world. On another day, any of them may have stopped to chat with me, but I guess my hands in the pockets of my cloak and a distant stare probably didn't send off a "Sure! Let's have a nice chat where you tell me ALL about your day!" vibe. I didn't mean anything by it; it was just where my head was at.

After a few minutes of walking down stone corridors and around turns in the barracks hallways, I found my room situated near the northwest edge of the castle. Alfonse, Sharena and Anna all had rooms near that corner as well, but given the time of day I knew I was alone there. Heading inside I plopped down on the cot in the corner, propping myself up against the headboard and wall it touched, one leg kicked out and the other propped up on the bed. I grabbed the IPod from the cloak's pocket and popped my earbuds in. Surprisingly I found that despite there being no electricity in this world, a few magic tomes were able to recharge the thing by lightly electrocuting it. I didn't ask too many questions. I was just thankful to have the darn thing working.

I scrolled down until I got to the "Q" section of artists, clicked on Queens of the Stone Age, found their blue-faced album titled "Rated R" and hit the play button on the song "In the Fade." The slow fade-in of a guitar chord hit me and things felt right. I glanced down to see the repeat icon lit up. Eh, I'll switch it off after a few plays. I grabbed my wallet from atop the wooden desk adjacent to the bed and flipped it over to the back slot where a now-pointless driver's license was sleeved. Yep, still there. Not crazy yet. The day on the license matched the day on the calendar in the mess hall: June 7th.

I was 25 now.

Hope mom and dad are doing well. Wonder if time here works differently. What if I do eventually head back and time hasn't changed at all? What if I have aged though? Two years older, two years more handsome, maybe? Ha.......I hope everyone is alright.

No one at the castle seemed to pay attention that morning to the date. Just another day here. I'd have been more upset if it were a bigger deal to me, but to be honest I felt it more enjoyable to celebrate the birthdays of the others since arriving rather than my own. Never meant much back in my world, so why should it here?

A knock at the door broke the inner monologue underplayed by a favorite song from a band no one else here knew.

"Mike, you in there? I uh...followed you back from the plaza. You seemed like you were somewhere else though, so I let you be. You know, in your own head? Anyway, got a minute?"

Soleil sounded a bit more hesitant than normal.

"Sure thing, Sunshine. It's unlocked."

I put the wallet back down on the table and removed my ear buds as she entered. She closed the wooden door behind her, but those olive eyes usually conveying a warmth as bright as any daylight were fixed down and to her left. She fidgeted with her gloved hands, rocking back and forth on one foot.

"What's troubling you, Sunshine? Something's on your mind if that smile isn't on your face."

She sighed and met my eyes.

"You know so much about us, Mike. I get what you told me about having seen all these stories - all these lives and interactions - played out in some way before. Seems crazy to me, but hey! I grew up in some kind of....weird....time bubble thing, so who am I to judge? But it's soooooo personal! You know who we are at our best, and at our worst, who we're descended from, our skills, who we could learn the most from or have the most in common with, who will get along well, who can ride a horse or shoot magic or who has slain a dragon or who is a dragon or that I can't dance and how that' so embarrassing but now you're trying to help me learn how by introducing me to my grandmother who is really cute by the way -"

Soleil was getting excited. She always got talking fast like that when she was flustered. Usually it was because there was a cute girl around. I'm pretty good-looking, but this wasn't that.

"Right, right. It's....kind of hard to explain it all myself. It's like reading a whole series of books and then one day finding yourself in the middle of the plot of one. You know who everyone is and how the plot should go, but you're now in a side chapter you never knew about. It doesn't make much sense to me either. But what's brought all that back up? Think I shouldn't have told Karla about Fir?"

"No, it's not that. It's just.....you never open up to us about you. Kind of feels like you're always keeping us an arm's length away. Even Lucina and me."

".....I...don't mean for it to seem that way. I really don't."

I suddenly became aware that my hood was up. I hadn't even noticed it before. I pulled it down and nodded my head to the spot on the bed next to me, swinging my legs off of the bed so she'd have a place to sit. She flashed a small smile and sat next to me, hands grasping the edge of the mattress as she leaned forward to look at my face on her left. I opened my mouth for a second to say something, and moved my jaw off-center. Truth be told, this line of questioning from her was leading to the same place my mind had been most of the morning before the summoning session. I glanced right to look at her, meeting her eyes.

"Your dad had a conversation with you once, right? About how he wasn't from the world of Nohr and Hoshido? That the day may come when he had to return to his own world?"

"Yeah, I told him I wanted to go with him if I could. I'd love to see his world. Turns out we both got that chance in a way when you brought us here. It's not his world, but all of the friends he knew are here. Lucina, Geroma, Aunt Selena, Uncle Odin, even Grandma! And that's sooooo cool to get to meet them all! I get to meet my grandmother and see why dad was always trying to dance like her!"

"Exactly, but....it's kind of like that for me. You never knew his actual name was Inigo, right?"

"Yeah, that was a total shocker..."

"He kept certain parts of his past hidden. Same as Selena and Odin. Now they had a mission that kind of required them to do so, but with me it's......"

I sighed.

"I don't want to lose you. Any of you. I've made so many friends here and feel so welcomed by you all, even as weird as I may seem knowing so much about you. But I don't know how exactly I got here. I mean, yeah, I get the whole Breidablik thing, but that whole situation still seems crazy. Say something happens someday, and the whole thing is undone. That I have to return to my world. The closer I get, the harder it will be. I'm the only one from that world. I'll have to return: alone. As much as I'd like, I can't take you or Lucy or Rob or anyone back there. Your worlds all overlap. Mine doesn't. I hate goodbyes. Never been any good at them.

And that's not even taking into account what happens if I were to lose any of you while here. I want you all to be able to return to your own worlds safe and sound when this war is done. Hopefully the challenges of your worlds are all far easier after the work and training we've put in together here. But I don't know. It's going to hurt to leave everyone behind or see everyone leave. Whichever comes first."

I found myself leaning forward at this point, forearms resting on my thighs with my fingers intertwined. I looked down at the ground for a moment. Soleil just watched, waiting for me to continue. I was always amazed by how well she could handle serious topics. She was far more mature and understanding than you'd think being the peppy flirter.

"I'm not that interesting of a guy, really. It's pretty surface-level, Sunshine. I wear my emotions on my sleeve and I wasn't doing anything all that impressive with my life before coming here. Your stories are all way more interesting than mine. Despite being pretty good-looking, smart, funny, charming - "

She snorted while trying to fight back a laugh. I snickered a bit too.

"You know what I mean. I'm just the guy who summons you all here and needs help from Rob to make sure I keep you all safe and alive. I'm doing the best I can to be everyone's reliable friend. I hope that's working. But I still wake up some days unsure of why the hell this stupid thing chose me."

I raised up Breidablik from my side and shook it a few times before setting it arm's length out on the desk.

"You're special to us, Mike. You ARE a good friend and leader. And you're the only one we'd want leading us out there. You work night and day to make sure we all do our best. So turn that frown upside down, cutie! I hate seeing you down like this."

She reached over with both hands and forcibly pushed my mouth into a smile. We both laughed again, and this time the smiles were genuine between us.

“You know, one of these days I'm really going to miss you being here to cheer me up. Or me being there to cheer Lucy up. Or Rob getting startled by something and cheering all three of us up."

"Hahaha! Like that time he was practicing a new spell and set the row of training dummies on fire! The fire nearly spead to the mess hall!"

"Lucy was so mortified and Chrom just laughed. Then he reminded them they had just broken a pair each the day before, and they both got really quiet...."

"Hahaha! Yeah, it's fun being around them! I get now why dad missed them so much. And Lucina's QUITE the cute one."

"Down girl. Think Rob would have a thing or two to say about that. Besides, you and Lancina already have your own thing."

"That's still so weird to me that they're not the same girl really."

We each just smiled and looked forward.

"Soooo......weren't going to tell anyone about your birthday, cutie?"

"You knew?! I purposefully didn't tell anyone. How'd you find out?"

"Lucy and I snuck in here one day and checked the wallet. Felt it might tell us a little something about you. Been planning something ever since."

"Well glad personal boundaries are so well respected!"

I chuckled. She just smiled a toothy grin at me. I really would miss that one day.

"So wanna get going? Think you're supposed to be meeting Robin here soon. Then Lucy and I have you for the afternoon off."

Funny how a few minutes of talking with someone you trust can turn a day around, isn't it? Especially when that someone is a cute guy or girl who you can't help but smile and laugh with. We all need that person.

"In a minute."

I grabbed my IPod still sitting on the bed beside and between the two of us, looking for the one earbud marked with the little "R" on it. Popped it in my ear, and offered its pair to the girl beside me. She moved her long pink hair out of the way and behind her ear, smiling as she heard the song.

Losing a feelin', that I couldn't give away Countin and breathin, disappearin in the fade. They don't know, I'd never do you any good Stoppin and stayin, I would if I could.

And as I'd done on so many occasions before with the girl with brown eyes and a smile that warmed the soul, and with the blue eyed girl with the heart of gold, we both just leaned back against the plaster-covered wall; listening and enjoying a quiet moment. No battles to fight, no comrades to mourn, no futures to rewrite or family to save, no ringing of steel or cacophonies of sound rising from the chaos of a battlefield. Nothing but smiles on our faces and the sound of music. Two pebbles resting on the shore. For a moment, untouched by the waves of time.

#fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #fanfic #feh #soleil #lucina

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megaphonemonday · 6 years

Text

the fire went wild

dothething asked, as a response to just like a ring of fire, when Mike realized his feelings. I personally think the show did a pretty good job of tracking Mike’s feelings for Ginny, so consider this a 4+1 times he should’ve realized something.

read on ao3

catching your lollipop fast ball

Another perfect screwball landed squarely in Mike’s mitt. He couldn’t help but be impressed, not that he really wanted to show it. Couldn't let the rookie get too full of herself, now could he? So, he snapped his gum a few times before popping the ball out of the webbing and snatching it right out of the air. He didn't even bauble the catch.

Baker wasn't the only one who could impress.

“Good,” he finally called, throwing it back to the artificial mound. “Now throw me the fastball I actually asked for.”

Her nose wrinkled, eyebrows furrowing. Without the brim of a baseball cap to cover it up, it was pretty obvious. A little amused, Mike had to wonder if that was how she always looked when she wanted to shake him off. The set of her mouth looked just right, lips pursed in annoyance. He’d gotten pretty familiar over the 17 entire times she waved his calls off her last start.

“That’s not what I’m working on,” she tried, worrying the ball behind her back. There was no doubt in Mike’s mind that her fingers had settled into a screwball grip yet again. Well, if she wanted to dick around, fine. At least the foam mats here in the pitching lanes were a little easier on his knees than the hard packed clay on the field. Mike could wait her out.

“It’s gonna be,” he tried anyway. If he didn't have to spend his entire evening in the bowels of Dodger Stadium, even if it was with someone as intriguing as Ginny Baker, why should he? “There’s nothing you or I can do to tweak that screwgie. Your fastball on the other hand...”

Baker's pursed lips flattened out into a straight line, but she didn't give him an actual reply, instead looking down as she toed the rubber and settled into her windup.

It was a refreshing change not being told to fuck off. Most of the bullpen was too familiar with him for the full force of his captaincy to have much effect on them. Mike should really work with the rookies more often. They had such a pleasing way of deferring to his every call.

Well. Most of his calls.

Another screwball landed in his mitt.

He tilted his head at her in exasperation, rolling his eyes though he was sure she couldn’t see it in the dim light of Dodger Stadium’s pitching lanes or the shadows of his mask. She raised her eyebrows in challenge.

Flinging the ball back at her with more strength than the throw really required, he gave up on reining in his annoyance. Given the way the impact with her glove rang against the cold cinderblock, Mike had a feeling Baker knew it, too. Still, she didn't wince or even shake out her hand, simply climbing back up the hill to set for another pitch.

“Fastball,” he commanded gruffly, giving her the hand sign for good measure.

To be honest, if she didn’t listen again, Mike wasn’t sure what he’d do, but it’d probably involve more than a little yelling on his part. He had a feeling, though, that Ginny Baker would give just as good as she got.

(He kind of wanted to find out.)

Baker huffed but shrugged. She settled into her stance and sent a perfectly serviceable, if unenthusiastic, fastball right down the middle of the plate. If every hitter worth their salt wouldn’t have been all over that pitch like white on rice, Mike wouldn’t have minded the lack of heat.

As it was...

“I hardly even needed a mitt to catch that, Baker,” he taunted, throwing the ball back. “Weren’t you just tellin' me you top out at 87? That couldn’t’ve been more than 70.”

Even across 60 feet, 6 inches, it was hard to miss the stubborn set of Ginny Baker's jaw. It was a new expression from her, but one that Mike had a feeling he'd be seeing much more of before the season was out. She gave a sharp shake of her head, reared back into her windup, and threw again.

Fastball, top inside corner. This time, there was even a slight sting in his palm.

Something like pride fluttered to life in Mike’s gut. And when Ginny grinned, teeth on full display, that flutter kicked into high gear.

Mike cleared his throat, flinging the ball back a little harder than necessary, though it had nothing to do with annoyance this time.

“Good. Again.”

They continued on in this pattern, Mike alternating between approval and goading to get his desired results and Ginny generally rising to meet and exceed his expectations, until Baker’d exhausted her 40-odd pitches. She didn’t protest when he stood and signaled the end of their session, but Mike could still tell that she was itching for more.

Good. It was nice to see that first game really had been a fluke. She really did want this.

Mike jerked his head to the door, but didn’t wait for her to catch up. She had the knees of a 23-year-old. He did not.

Sure enough, it only took a few seconds for her to fall into step beside him on the walk back to the visitor's clubhouse. She shook out her arms and stretched them over her head, bouncing on the balls of her feet even as they walked. Mike marveled at her energy. Hadn’t she done early work—and Jesus, it was work. Parts of Mike still ached from yesterday's tandem work out session—before Kimmel, too? Wasn’t she tired? He sure as hell was, and the game hadn't even started yet.

“Blip said if we win in LA, there’s a club y’all usually go to. You gonna come out, too?”

Mike always did. And usually he left the place with some very entertaining company. But something within him rebelled at the idea of sharing that bit of information. He shrugged it off and frowned, trying to project an air befitting his status as her captain.

“Let’s worry about actually winning first, okay, Baker?”

Her grin, dimples popping and eyes dancing, made him feel a lot of things, but most of them weren’t even remotely related to his status as her captain.

Automatically, he grinned back. Privately, though, Mike resolved to put as much effort as necessary into finding some company for tonight. A little no-strings fun, some relieved tension, and hopefully he'd wake up in the morning with his head on straight again.

Yeah. That was exactly what he needed.

listening to your feminista rants

"This is such bullshit,” Baker muttered mulishly. Mike could just see her now, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping in her seat.

Except, he couldn’t see her.

They were all the way across town from one another, Baker presumably in her suite at the Omni and Mike stretched out on one of the recliners scattered around his pool, trying to convince himself to go inside. If he went inside, though, started getting ready for bed, he’d have to end this phone call. Because while it wasn’t weird to talk to his rookie most nights—about anything from tomorrow’s start to the meager offerings of late night TV in hotel cable packages—it was definitely helped by the fact that Mike stayed out of his bedroom while doing it.

Specifically, he stayed out of bed.

It just— It was better if he did.

“Huh?” Mike was pretty sure he’d missed something. Hadn’t they just been talking about the surplus of fro yo shops in the Gaslamp Quarter and what’d happened to all the real ice cream shops, didn't people know that the novelty of paying by the ounce was not offset by the objective inferiority of frozen yogurt?

Which was definitely some kind of bullshit, but not the kind that would inspire this level of annoyance from Baker.

Well. Maybe it would. The girl did take her food very seriously.

She sighed down the line. “Sorry. Amelia sent me this interview request.”

When she didn’t elaborate further, Mike prodded, “Isn’t that her job?”

He didn’t love talking about Amelia with Baker. Just like he didn’t love talking about Baker with Amelia, but he could suck it up and play it cool for a while. It helped that he hadn't actually seen Amelia today. Mike didn't like to think about the fact that it was easier to talk to his rookie when he hadn't recently hooked up with her agent, though. Too messy for his tastes. Then again, hooking up with his rookie's agent was probably too messy for his tastes, too.

“Yeah,” she agreed, a little listlessly. “She usually does a better job of weeding out the obviously sexist ones. I think she’s been distracted lately.”

Oh, was this another one of her girl power trips? He could definitely deal with that. Ignoring the rest of her complaint and whatever role he might play in it, Mike tucked an arm behind his head and asked, “What's wrong with the request?”

“What isn’t?” Baker muttered under her breath. Mike waited her out until she sighed and offered, “They led off with what they wanted the photo spread to look like.”

“I don’t see what’s so obviously sexist about that.”

“That’s because you’re a dude.”

“That’s probably true.”

It didn't even get a laugh. She was too worked up for his dry delivery to even dent her indignation. To be fair, there was a lot in her life to be indignant about.

“Like—” Baker cut herself off with a humorless laugh, but not for long. "No one sends your agent the list of outfits they want you to wear for a photoshoot and completely forgets to add the interview questions, right? No one would dream of doing that to anyone else in MLB. Just me. It’s just me who has to navigate even the shortest interaction with a reporter like I’m guarding state secrets. All because I want people to focus on how I play the game.”

Mike didn’t tell her that he couldn’t really remember the last time an article about him had included an actual photoshoot. “You’re not wrong,” he said because A) that was what he was supposed to say in this situation, having learned his lesson from listening to Rachel's complaints, and B) she wasn't.

“And no one asks you about your skincare regimen during pre-game pressers. Or cares what you wear on road trips or what you eat on your cheat days or which of the hundreds of guys you’ve been in a four-foot radius of in the past 24 hours is secretly your boyfriend and which ones just want to sleep with you.”

“Well,” he drawled, “if I had a secret boyfriend, I’m pretty sure some people would be interested.”

That earned Mike his laugh. Not quite as bright as he’d wanted and almost in spite of herself, but he grinned at the still water of his pool anyway.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

And he did. There was no denying that Ginny Baker, just by virtue of being the first, was going to be subjected to bullshit her teammates weren’t and never would be. While it wasn’t often that she actually complained about it, Mike couldn’t miss the way it dragged on her. The way her smile was always a shade too harsh in press conferences, her jokes rehearsed. He definitely couldn’t miss the way she always let out a huge sigh of relief the second she got out of the press room, shoulders slumping and exhaustion settling in.

“Yeah, I know.”

That certainty was nice to hear. That was why Mike felt warmth rush through him, flooding his face. It was so nice, in fact, he was still smiling when he finally hung up the call and climbed into bed.

He might’ve even been smiling as he fell asleep.

the way you constantly interrupt me

Well, there was no beating around the bush. This speech blew.

It wasn’t often that Mike couldn’t talk his way out of a corner, but he had a sinking feeling, the longer he went on, this might be one of those times.

Something about the rhythm of it, maybe? It wasn’t up to Mike’s usual standards for all he was hitting all the usual beats and talking points. Then again, he’d gotten a little out of practice. Hadn’t had much occasion to give celebratory speeches these past few weeks.

But today, the Padres had clinched their first series sweep in what felt like forever. And clinched it with a shutout victory, at that. That was certainly cause for Mike to step up and address a few words to his team.

But it was time to start wrapping it up, now. Before they realized he was talking in circles.

He raised his beer one last time to the gaggle of Padres still jostling each other in the open space of the clubhouse.

“This was just the beginning. We keep playing like that, then you better believe the postseason’s got our name on it. Good job, guys—”

“And girl.”

Mike whirled and took in said girl’s defiantly raised chin. He hadn’t put his back to the hallway holding her changing room on purpose, except, yes. He had. Most of these mooks might not know a great orator from a stuttering wallflower, but he had zero interest in finding out if Ginny Baker fell in with the crowd on this front. He had a feeling she didn’t and wouldn’t have any problem with letting him know it.

Funny. It wasn’t often he hated being right.

Next to her, Blip’s arms crossed over his chest, but a grin was pulling at the corner of his mouth as his eyes darted between her and Mike.

For his part, now that he’d turned his attention back to her, Mike couldn’t imagine looking away.

Flush with victory, he couldn’t think of a time she’d looked better. Not even on the red carpet, wearing that ridiculous red dress that should’ve been illegal by any sane standards. Not that he really had a horse in this race, but Mike was pretty sure he preferred her as she was now, still wearing her uniform, a little disheveled from the game.

And what a game!

Tonight, for the first time since she went AWOL from her party, Ginny’d taken the mound and thrown a beautiful game. A work of art, really. Mike had seen a lot of twirlers in his time and if he’d had any doubts about Ginny Baker’s actual skills, this game would’ve taken them out back, shot ‘em, and buried ‘em six feet deep.

And that was just on the strength of five innings. Erring on the side of caution, Al took her out with the Padres up 4-0. It hadn’t seemed like she chafed at the tight leash, though, given the way she draped her arms loosely over the dugout fence to watch the rest of the game.

Then again, Mike could only go based on what he’d observed.

Ginny still wasn’t really talking to him.

Until now. Until this.

He didn’t even tell her off for interrupting him.

“And girl.” He tipped his bottle to her, nodding his head for good measure. A smile flickered across her lips for a second.

Unspeakable relief swept through Mike. It’d been so long since Ginny’d actually addressed him off the field (or the red carpet), he hadn’t quite realized that he’d been craving it, missing what’d come so easily not even two weeks ago.

Jesus, how long had it been since they last talked outside of a game situation? It couldn’t have just been two weeks. He wouldn’t feel so fucking grateful to hear her voice again, without the roar of a crowd underpinning it, if it had only been two weeks.

Since he couldn’t stare at his rookie pitcher in awe quite as long as he would’ve liked, Mike cleared his throat and shifted his attention back to the rest of his teammates. “All right, you mooks. Get your asses in the showers and go home. We’ve got another game to play tomorrow.”

There was roughly an equal amount of booing as cheering, which was about as good a reaction as Mike could ask for.

Because he wasn’t going to push his luck and ask for Ginny to actually smile at him, too.

If he watched out of the corner of his eye as she clapped Blip on the shoulder and retreated to her dressing room, that was his business. It was also his business if he took the first opportunity to follow her.

“Come in,” she called, hardly before he’d finished knocking.

Mike pushed the door open, but didn’t step into her space. It felt important that he didn’t. Not yet, at least.

“That was a good game.”

Ginny turned and blinked, like she was surprised it was him. Since there was none of the anger or confusion that’d colored their interactions the past weeks, Mike tried to take it in stride.

“Thanks,” she replied, looking wary, but not entirely closed off. “Wouldn’t have managed it without that homer in the seventh.”

Mike shrugged, though she wasn’t wrong. When she continued to stare at him probingly, he grinned, a touch too self-conscious to manage his trademark charm.

“You gonna go out with the guys?”

“I thought we were supposed to go home so we could come back refreshed for tomorrow.”

He rolled his eyes. “You think I really expect any of these dummys—”

“You calling me a dummy, Lawson?” she demanded, and that! That was a smile. A real smile from Ginny directed straight at Mike.

“If you go out to the karaoke bar the way Voorhies wants, then there’s no—”

She laughed. “You asshole.”

Since Ginny looked legitimately fond, Mike didn’t even protest. He laughed, too.

“Yeah,” he agreed, more than a little wondering. “That’s me.”

oh, that horsey laugh

Mike was fucking exhausted.

And why shouldn’t he be? They’d played a doubleheader yesterday and suffered through a rain delay at Wrigley today. Yesterday. Whatever.

They were supposed to leave Chicago at 11:00. It was now 2:30 in the morning and they’d only just pulled away from the gate. Mike had been awake for nearly 20 hours now, and tomorrow—today, whatever—he’d have to get up and do most of it again.

It wasn’t the game that’d kill him, though. It was the fucking plane.

Mike couldn’t quite explain the hatred he felt for the endless array of charter planes the Padres commandeered in the course of a season. For a guy who didn’t even go to an airport until he was 18 and heading out for Idaho and his first stop on the way to the majors, air travel doesn’t hold much romance for him. The seats were too close together and now that he’s gotten old, the dry air makes his throat itch and back tighten.

It beat day-long bus rides, though.

If he could help it, he never slept on the plane, hated waking up with a kink in his neck and stiff knees, but he’d make an exception today. He was just that tired.

What Mike really wanted was his bed. And preferably a warm body to share it with. It’d been a while since that happened, though, and he wasn’t holding his breath for tonight. So, he’d have to settle for reclining his seat as much as possible—fuck Margolis sitting behind him; he’d given up a triple and let three runners steal before getting yanked—and sleeping while he could. If he didn’t, there was a good chance his drive home would end poorly.

Nothing quite drove home how old he was getting quite like feasibly believing he might fall asleep behind the wheel.

Thank God most of the team was in agreement on that front. The cabin was dark, only the dim, blue glow of iPads and phones illuminating the space. It was quiet, too, just Al’s sonorous, familiar snoring disrupting the silence.

Until someone had to go and make Ginny Baker laugh.

In spite of how tired he was, the sound of her laugh—loud and more than a little obnoxious but entirely genuine—was enough to make Mike smile automatically in response. He kept his eyes shut, letting her guffaws fade away and send him to sleep.

It wasn’t so different from being on the phone with her late at night, game adrenaline slowly filtering out of his system and his eyes growing heavy. Okay, maybe he’d given up on staying out of bed for all of their conversations, but he was only human. Sometimes Baker talked a lot, and it always put her in a good mood when she could tease him the next day for falling asleep on the phone.

Except Ginny wasn’t on the phone with him. She wasn’t even laughing at him.

Which shouldn’t have been the problem and shouldn’t have fucking bothered him at all.

“Do that again!” she demanded, delight coating every word.

Salvamini’s laugh was more mellow, and if Mike weren’t sure the man was head over heels in love with his wife and family, he’d think he was flirting.

“You’re not gonna figure it out,” the first baseman replied, and there was the soft whirr of shuffling cards. There were a few quiet moments before it started all over again.

“How did you do that?” Ginny demanded, laughing bright and loud and not at all aware that it was nearly 3:00 AM and everyone around her wanted to be asleep.

Still, Mike couldn’t bring himself to yell at them to shut up. He did sit up and glare blearily their way, cutting Salvi off in the middle of saying, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Magician. Yeah fucking right. The only people who actually believed that were the guy’s kids. And none of them were over the age of six.

Salvi had the nerve to grin, making Ginny turn to look, too. “Looks like captain’s calling,” he teased, nodding to Mike three rows ahead.

Mike rolled his eyes and flopped back into his seat. He didn’t cross his arms over his chest, because then it would look like he was pouting.

Which he wasn’t.

He closed his eyes. If he tried really hard, he could probably fall asleep in the next thirty seconds. That seemed reasonable.

The soft pad of sneakers against the carpeting of the aisle wasn’t enough to make him open them, but the soft creak of leather and mechanical parts shifting right beside him was. He cracked one eye open and took in Ginny Baker curled up on the seat next to his.

She grinned when she saw she had his attention.

“Did I interrupt your beauty sleep, old man?”

“Don’t need it,” he rumbled, “when you look as good as I do.”

Her responding laugh, though it was absolutely familiar, was quiet this time, just for Mike’s ears.

“You keep telling yourself that,” she murmured, eyelashes kissing the tops of her dusky cheeks as she settled in for some sleep herself.

She was the last thing before Mike’s eyes shut and the first thing he saw when the plane touched down in San Diego, and that didn’t make him feel any kind of way.

Not at all.

i’m gonna miss the hell out of you, baker

His phone should be in his pocket. Better yet, he should’ve left it at home when he decided what he needed to do with his last night in San Diego was go out and get sad drunk all by himself.

(Maybe all by himself. He still hadn’t decided. Which was, of course, the problem.)

It was, unfortunately, neither of those places.

No. It was sitting right on the slightly sticky bar top, mere inches from his third beer of the night.

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

When had drinking and cellphones ever been a good combination? Never, in Mike’s experience.

He couldn’t resist unlocking the screen every so often, though, staring at the text he’d drafted on his way here and still hadn’t sent.

Blip’s warning kept replaying in his head.

You could have just said bye to everyone.

Well. Mike didn’t give a shit about everyone. It stung that Blip was clearly so put out with him, but they’d get it together. Probably once Blip figured out that captaining that gaggle of overgrown kids was no walk in the park and maybe he needed or just wanted a little of Mike’s advice.

And yeah, if he were in the right frame of mind, he’d want the whole team to understand why he was going, but they’d get it after his press conference from Chicago tomorrow. They’d—probably, not all Padres were made equal, after all—figure out what went down.

And if they didn’t, what did Mike care? He wasn’t their captain anymore. He wasn’t anyone’s captain.

Still, there was one teammate he wanted to say goodbye to. One teammate he needed to know understood the whole messed up situation.

Not that Mike quite understood it all himself.

All he knew was that he’d been ready to fight tooth and nail to stay a Padre, but one look at Ginny Baker, going through her stretch and hum routine before taking the mound again made him realize he couldn’t. He couldn’t stay her teammate, stay in her life even, and not fuck it all up somewhere down the line. That was what he did best: fuck good things up. He refused to do it to her, though. No matter how fucking fond he felt every time she yelled at Stubbs for calling his ex a crazy bitch, or lit up the first time her fastball cracked 89, or laughed too long and too loud at terrible jokes, or cut him off to start a story of her own.

No matter how “fond” didn’t even come close to cutting it.

He’d leave his team, the closest thing he had to a family, before he put Ginny’s career in jeopardy.

Because he loved her, okay? He’d fucking fallen in love with his rookie, the first woman in MLB. He loved her and knew she meant more to the game than he ever would. There was no point in denying it now.

Mike laughed a little to himself. All the signs had been there. But it was the fucking humming that did him in. Fucking Katy Perry pushed him from willful ignorance straight over the edge into self-awareness.

Yeah, he’d miss this town and miss this team, but mostly what he’d miss would be her.

And, terrible as this idea was, he wanted her to know.

He drained the last of his beer and unlocked his phone again.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Mike hit send.

Like magic, a blue bubble popped up on his side of the conversation, just two words, but two words that he thought might change everything. Or enough. God, he hoped it would be enough.

Boardner’s Bar.

#bawson #bawson fic #pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #seriously lets bring back #5+1 fics #yes i'm aware this is 4+1 #but my point stands

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08-plaza · 6 years

Text

Xenoblade Chronicles X: 2 Year Aniversary Short Story

After missing out on last year’s anniversary i decided i wanted to get in on it this year to show my love for such an awesome and interesting game, so as a summary i wrote a short story of the major things i think would have happened since humanity’s arrival on Mira and how so people might have changed during that time. Unfortunately i realized about halfway through that i didn’t know some of the cast’s characters well enough or just simply couldn’t think of a way to include them in the first place, so i apologize if this comes of as a little narcissistic since it ends up being heavily shippy in the end. If i missed your favorite character (i’m really sad i couldn’t fit Alexa in there she’s fantastic) i’m sorry and i wish i knew other people’s crosses better so i could have included them in this too. But i hope you enjoy reading it and it instills a sense of hope for humanity’s future on Mira and more love for this already awesome game.

“We are gathered here today celebrate the completion of New Los angeles’s agricultural district and the hard work put in by every division of BLADE that made this possible.” Secretary Nagi began his address to the men and women standing arrayed on the bridge in front of him, “First off are our team of engineers and the people under them, without whom we wouldn’t have gotten it built at all.”

Nagi paused for a moment as the crowd applauded, cheers and the spirit of comradery filling the air.

“Second are the BLADEs who secured the resources to build this, i know every division played some part from the curators to the interceptors and i thank all of you.” He continued, pausing for the applause once more.

“And finally are the men and women who have already agreed to operate the facility. While your jobs may not be glamourous they are still very important.” He concluded to enthusiastic cheers.

“And now a word from the Director General Chausson.” Nagi said, stepping back and letting Chausson take center stage.

“Eh, hem.” Chausson cleared his throat, “Thank you for your inspiring words Secretary Nagi. This is not the only thing we have cause to celebrate today either, as many of you may know today is the second anniversary of when the white whale first landed on mira.”

There was a poignant pause as everyone remembered the horrors and challenges they had faced during the first year humanity had been on Mira.

“I’d like to use this time to commemorate all the good people we lost during that time but also all the good allies we made as well,” Chausson said, gesturing to the dignitaries sent to the event, “The nopon, whose invaluable knowledge of the planet has saved us on many occasions.”

“Nopon info best info!” Tatsu interjected and was quickly shushed by lin.

“Mhm yes. Then the Manon, who showed us whole new avenues of technology we hadn’t dreamed were possible.” Chausson continued, doing his best to ignore the interruption.

“I mean we had thought of them just didn’t know how to make them work properly” lin said under her breath and this time it was Elma’s turn to shush her.

“The Orpheans helped us look at our own technology and improve it, pushing it past the limits we thought we would never break.” Chausson said, determined to fit all of New LA’s allies into his speech. “The Zaruboggan helped us remove the pollution that the war was causing in our city and steer us towards a cleaner future. The Prone taught us the value of strength and pride in one’s abilities just as the Wrothians showed us how to hone our skills in combat to their very peak and temper them with honor in battle.”

The crowd erupted in cheers for these vastly different peoples, all of whom had made a distinct mark on humanity during it’s trials on the planet Mira.

“Of course i cannot forget our more singular friends such as Rock who has contributed immensely to the construction of our city, Celica who became one of the first BLADEs of a different race and has managed to balance it with her own ideals.”

This was met with heavy applause as celica turned a bright shade of red while Rock joined in the applause, quickly causing it to die down from the sound.

“Then we have our oddity of L, who while he had no stake in our conflict has helped our cause, even being a part of the battle to retake the lifehold core. To all of you, you have my utter gratitude.” Chausson concluded, letting the applause last for a while before speaking again.

“This is also a perfect time to commemorate all the good souls we’ve lost since coming here, whether it was to indigenous creatures or the vile Ganglion and that's not even mentioning the destruction of earth.” Chausson said, his voice wavering slightly in an uncharacteristic show of emotion during a speech.

Many people in the audience bowed their heads, briefly remembering the sacrifices that had gotten them this far.

“And so i’d like to dedicate the construction of New LA’s Agricultural District to those we’ve lost, as a testament to humanity’s tenacity and ability to thrive on alien worlds with the odds pitted against us, so please, enjoy yourselves with the prepared festivities.” Chausson Finished, taking a short bow before walking through the crowd and heading back towards BLADE tower.

“He always gives a good speech, but he never sticks around for long. Is he really that busy that he can’t stay for a while?” Varien asked, as energetic music started to play over the crowd.

“I don’t think so,” Elma replied, “It’s more likely he’s going to check up on preparations for the bigwig’s afterparty. I can get you in there if you want.”

“Oh no no, i’m hopefully gonna be busy more or less.” Varien said abashedly.

“Hey, don’t sweat it! you’re basically there already.” Lin reassured her, “It’ll be a cinch!”

“As easy as eating a log!” L interjected while patting Varien on the back and everyone shared a hearty laugh, the grim memories fading away as the air of the party took hold and everyone began to relax and socialize.

“Linly, Linly!” Tatsu said trying to grab her attention, “Why did you not cook something for this big bash? It would have been a great hit!”

“Ha, you think i don’t have better things to do than cook all day for one event?” She replied, “I’ve got a whole new commercial type skell to build, let alone test the refurbished white whale engines to see if we could even leave this rock.”

“Thank god she’ll be finally building something i don’t have to wear full protective gear while testing,” Doug joked, “Think i can be a model? Wear some cool duds, sunglasses and be in all the magazines.” He did a few silly poses for emphasis.

“Oh i don’t think so,” Lin said wagging a finger, “you know there’s a huge host of things that could go wrong even on a test drive, someone could have put the intake exhaust bypass in backwards and you wouldn’t want to ruin your fancy suit.”

“I seriously hope you wouldn’t make THAT mistake again.” doug replied incredulously.

“Of course not Doug, i think i’ve given you enough hell with my minor slip ups in the past.” she answered, Doug visibly relaxing a bit. “Buuut i might do it on purpose to knock someone off their high horse instead.”

“Come here you,” Doug said, giving Lin a noogie, “You had better not, after all the crap i’ve put up with.” They devolved into giggles as the party continued, an excellent example of BLADE’s solidarity.

(Elsewhere in the party. i don’t have time to make these transitions not stupidly awkward sorry.)

“You know it doesn’t really count as socializing if you don’t talk to anybody Murderess,” Elma said walking up to the woman everyone else was giving a wide berth.

“You know I did away with that title, i just go by Sharon Effinger now that i restored my name. Not that that changes how people treat me but who cares, I’ve got a few people who like me.” She replied, not looking at Elma. “And that’s alright with me.”

“I can’t blame them, it feels colder just standing near you.” Elma joked, the humor lost on Sharon, who made a noise in between a hmmph and a grunt to voice her dislike of Elma’s jest. “If you want to move your image in a more positive direction an event like this is absolutely the place to do so.”

“Ha! You’re starting to sound like Varien, she’s always trying to get me to go out and talk to people or even that Hope person she’s so infatuated with.” Sharon replied, sardonically dismissing Elma’s advice. “Thinking that will be the magical fix it all to the issue, i swear for someone who can rip indigins in half with her bare hands she’s pretty damn naive some of the time… But she hasn’t steered me wrong in the past so who am i to judge.”

“Hey!” Hope interjected, walking into the conversation “You shouldn’t say something so mean about people who are close to you murde- i mean Sharon.”

“Wait, how much of our conversation did you hear?” Sharon replied, trying to backup in case she had revealed anything compromising, “I mean, uh. Oh great goody two shoes is gonna lecture me now.”

“We’ve been together for a while now so i find it slightly insulting that you described her feelings as infatuation but i’ll put my own personal anger aside to say that you should stop keeping your friends at arm's length.” Hope answered, “You say they’re your close friends but you limit your interaction with them because you’re afraid that after wearing a mask for so long they won’t like the real you-”

“And you need to own up to your real feelings more.” Sharon interrupted her, “see, i can do the whole therapist thing-” Hope slapped her across the face, Elma watching the two with a smirk, “too… Alright fine, if you can change so can i.”

“And?” Hope said quizzically, the two of them staring each other down for a moment before Sharon yielded.

“Fine i’ll go apologize to varien.” She replied before storming off, though perhaps the crowd didn’t give her such a wide berth.

(Elsewhere in the party.)

“So wait, you and irina aren’t together anymore?” Phog asked gwin, “I hope there’s no hard feelings between you two, i know you’ve looked up to her for a long time so… hmmm how to put this nicely. That you might not want to let go of that very easily.”

“Oh no, it was because of that respect that i was able to realize it wasn’t gonna work out between us.” Gwin replied, “I remember being in the barracks after a mission with Elma’s team-”

“That story is confidential information gwin!” Irina interjected quickly, “please don’t it’s embarrassing.” Which elicited a chuckle from him.

“Well i haven’t heard this story,” Elma said sitting down in the circle of chairs that formed the cool kids club in BLADE, “So as your commanding officer i order you to tell it gwin.” Irina looked flustered.

“But colonel!” She cried and Elma gave her an expectant look, “I mean Elma, sorry… alright alright, you can tell the story too.”

“As i was saying, we had just got back from a mission with Elma’s team,” Gwin continued “Varien had enlisted us to help take down a Ganglion straggler stronghold out in the waters of cauldros guarded by a powerful Xeno skell and chock full of dangerous Milsaadi assassins plus-”

“I know this part already Gwin,” Elma cut him off, trying to get back to the point.

“Oh yeah, sorry ma’am.” He replied “Now where was I? Oh yeah, so Irina was just star struck with Elma’s performance in the battle and was gushing about all the little details she had noticed in her technique and abilities.”

“I was not gushing, just expounding on her many qualities and skills.” Irina sulked.

“You’re cute you know that.” Elma said, giving Irina a kiss on the cheek, who turned bright red and stayed quiet.

“I made some offhand comment like, maybe that’s why you fell for the ganglion trap, you were busy falling for someone else.” Gwin continued, “And she got up in my face saying, i was still aware of my surroundings and furthermore, this isn’t anything new! Then she realized the implications of what she had just said, so i put a hand on her shoulder and told her,” He paused for dramatic effect, “Go get em tiger.”

Everyone shared a good laugh as the party continued into the night, another BLADE telling a story around the metaphorical campfire.

(Later on in the evening.)

“And now! For the main event!” Commander Vandham shouted over the crowd, “A delight many of you know from your childhoods that we’ve only now been able to grow with these new facilities, our very first watermelon!” The people gathered around him cheered as he hoisted the fruit aloft, displaying it for all the world to see.

“I will let our very own Varien do us the honor of cutting it so put on a show for us will ya?” he declared, preparing to toss the melon into the air as varien took what could be called the sword version of a carving knife and stood ready as Vandham heaved the melon into the air.

Varien waiting for the perfect moment before striking and cutting the melon into even pieces, the cut up parts falling onto a well placed table and a little black box falling onto the outstretched blade.

There were a few gasps from the people gathered as Varien took the box over to Hope, dropping the sword and awkwardly holding the box out to her.

“Hope… Alanzi would you, would you-” Varien began but was interrupted by Lin.

“The knee, the knee!” She urged, doing the motion emphatically.

“Oh!” Varien exclaimed and bent down on one knee, “Hope Alanzi, would you marry me?” Hope covered her mouth for a moment a few tears rolling down her face.

“Yes, oh yes.” She replied, bringing up Varien and pulling her into a hug. “Thank you for sticking with me and supporting me.”

“You’re a bright beacon of light,” Varien said putting the ring on her finger, “and now that New LA’s not in so much danger i don’t mind hogging a little bit more of that light for myself.”

“Oh god that was cheesy,” Sharon whispered to Lin while everyone was clapping and being happy for the new couple, “looks like movie night is cancelled now too, such a shame.” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey she forgot about kneeling so she clearly needed it.” Lin said sadly, a little upset she wouldn’t get to stay up all night watching romantic comedies with Varien anymore. “Hold on a sec, you were never invited to those anyways how do you know about that?”

“Varien has no volume control.” She replied flatly and Lin suddenly became very self conscious.

“Sorry for keeping you up Ms. Effinger.” Lin said in the politest voice she could muster.

Satisfied, Sharon disappeared into the crowd as the party wrapped up, another chapter in humanity’s life on Mira over and a new one just beginning.

#XCX_FES17 #Xenoblade Chronicles X

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imthepunchlord · 7 years

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Me Rewatching ML: Ladybug and Chat Noir (Origins part 1)

Ooooooh I like Nooroo’s voice in the French dub, it’s very smooth.

I wonder if all of these really are what the miraculouses look like with the kwamis sealed away or if for some, this is actually their dormant state. For sure the butterfly, ladybug, black cat look as they do with the kwami inside, presumably peacock too with Duusu for sure sealed inside the miraculous. But what makes me wonder is the fox miraculous. With Volpina, we do see it has golden stripes with her, but here it’s just plain. Then there’s the curious detail that the turtle still looks the same. Maybe some of these are miraculouses in their dormant state or I guess they just don’t have the miraculous designs down yet?

The deer miraculous user, Cernunnos, looked like he was worshiped. I’m speculating that he was a very distant protector, and possibly inspired the idea of the god Cernunnos, or that’s what the people he protected named him. Or he named himself after the god.

Hercules with either the lion miraculous, which was an earlier concept in ML and may have been able to stay in, or he’s a previous Black Cat.

Jean D’arc, previous LB facing off a dragon.

Tomoe Gozen does look like her miraculous is based off a bird of prey.

Ladybug earrings and Black Cat ring are acknowledged as the most powerful of all miraculouses. And being based off yin and yang and the most powerful, I wonder if this is unique to only them, of them being the only ones based of yin and yang. I wonder if the other circles of miraculouses (for there are more) actually only have 5 total and lb and bc can work with any of them.

Owing both will give absolute power, make someone a god.

In a dormant state (presumably), the butterfly miraculous is big enough to sit int he palm. I really like the idea that it’s like a cocoon, but and unappealing, when transformed, smaller and lovely.

Picture of Mama is in the brooch, HM closing it up and securing it there.

HM states that he wants ultimate power and must have the earrings and ring, he sounds eager and power hungry, not wishful about getting Mama back.

According to Nooroo, “Nobody knows where they are.” This could be Nooroo trying to discourage HM from looking or he genuinely doesn’t know where the earrings and ring are suggesting he hasn’t seen Fu in a while and is unaware that the Guardian has them. Or at least, the last time Nooroo was with Fu, Fu didn’t have the earrings and ring, the two evidently lost.

HM confirms that he found Nooroo, confirming that Nooroo was lost.

“Your miraculous, remind me of it’s power again.” Either HM has a really short attention span (unlikely); or he used the butterfly miraculous before, lost a long time ago and needs a refresher; worked with someone who used the butterfly miraculous (possibly Mama) as either her partner or a Champion, or he’s checking information that he has learned either from the book or possibly what his boss Paon has told him.

Don’t stroke the miraculous that’s weird.

NOOOROOOOOOO small bean looks so happy and excited.

It’s possibly that HM can make more than one akuma since in Nooroo’s explanation, four butterflies are sent out making four heroes. By looks of it, wearing a mask is optional, there are two butterfly made heroes that don’t wear masks. That is likely up to who the butterfly is reaching out too.

Nooroo’s statement of “...make them your follower.” implies that whoever a butterfly touches, the would be hero is inclined to agree. This could be why we haven’t had anyone refuse an akuma yet.

Thus far only adults are referred to as “Master” while Marinette and Adrien aren’t referred to as such at all. This could depend on the kwami. Tikki and Plagg could like having a personal connection with their holders and go by first names instead, Nooroo and Wayzz though, they could be more inclined to keeping the master-servant connection, keeping it formal and aware of their placement, for kwamis do have to obey whoever has their miraculous.

Nooroo insists without fear of HM with a gentle approach that miraculouses shouldn’t be used for evil.

BAAAAABY.

Nooroo sounds so broken and sad saVE HIM.

For sure, untransformed, HM wears white, which for sure in Chinese color symbolism, is a color of mourning. And he does have two buttons on the sleeve, along with a ring on his middle finger, which would suggest Gabriel; though they did make one error on his model if this is Gabriel. You can see the two buttons on the sleeve, their facing towards HM’s body. For Gabriel, the buttons are on the outside of the sleeves, facing away from him. It also looks like the buttons that you see on the side of HM don’t match up with the buttons Gabriel has on his vest. You see 3 buttons on HM’s clothing, Gabriel has 6. They also appear smaller. If this is Gabriel, they missed some small details with his model, or Gabriel really is meant to be a red herring for HM.

HM you sound like a ghost when you call out for Nooroo XD

“Dark wings, rise!” You know, for a miraculous meant to be used for good, that is an odd phrase. I really do think HM, who does like to be edgy and think he’s scary, just added dark in front of the phrase and it’s really just “Wings rise”.

Also HM does know the transformation phrase, yet needed to be reminded on the butterfly miraculuos’ power. Either he has used the butterfly miraculous before and lost it, has heard someone call out the phrase and it stuck with him, or Nooroo told him from the start and HM wasn’t really paying attention and needed to be reminded on the brooch’s power again.

And for sure, the big brooch in HM’s hand is the dormant state of the butterfly miraculous, he puts it on then summons the transformation.

When transforming, the butterflies rush towards HM, covering him. They move before Nooroo does, perhaps they respond to his emotional state or wants now that he is officially wearing the brooch.

By looks of it, as soon as Nooroo goes into the brooch, the butterflies withdraw and HM is transformed as we know him.

“From this day on I shall be known as... Hawkmoth!”

This is a bit of a curious line to me. It feels like he’s rejecting a previous name and is feeling renewed and eager. Probably nothing but I do find it curious.

Wayzz has his own room in the phonograph, with a makeshift bed and stamps that he keeps on the wall. With the curious detail of him having Chat Noir cover on his “bed”, I wonder if this could imply that he and Plagg are actually good friends, which could be an ironic twist with Plagg being lazy and selective in his duties while Wayzz is serious and devoted to his, to a point it seems he can rival Tikki.

Wayzz deems miraculous trouble is more important than being subtle. It appears he too may have a bad habit of popping into view when he gets too caught up in miraculous duties; maybe Tikki and Wayzz are bad influences on each other.

Wayzz is able to sense when a miraculous has been activated.

Fu thought the butterfly was lost forever.

Wayzz is able to tell if the activation is negative and positive; he states that Nooroo’s activation is negative and fears that Nooroo may be in evil hands.

Fu for sure knows Nooroo, and he intends to find Nooroo and his miraculous. This suggests that if HM’s akumas did successfully get the ring/earrings, he’ll need to get Tikki and Plagg too, and kwamis are able to stay away from their miraculouses.

Fu thinks 186 is young, refuses to acknowledge that he is nearing his limit. I’m speculating that around 200 could possibly be the limit of the turtle holder. Perhaps they could go longer? For sure, it does look like it will be time for a new Guardian (I’m betting Ali or Nino).

Fu was confident that he could face the Butterfly alone, backing that LB isn’t the only one that can fight off a misused butterfly, evidently turtle can too. I do think all miraculouses are able to counter each other if misused, some though are more fit than others.

And Fu ready to go, this suggests to me that transformed, he may be able to sense where other miraculouses are, so long as they are activated.

It does look like the miraculous chest does have... 4 sections to it. And there are presumably at least 5 in each section, or another set of 7 in each of them.

Sabine has a daily routine of knowing when Marinette’s alarm goes off and she needs to get up, I doubt she heard Marinette’s alarm go off. Marinette’s alarm is her cell phone.

Marinette likes to sleep buried under her sheets and at this point, is very reluctant to get out of bed.

They have a morning routine of Marinette coming down, giving Sabine a kiss and she goes and have breakfast which was waiting for her.

Marinette and Chloe have been in the same class four years straight.

WHY DO WE HAVE SO LITTLE SABINE AND MARINETTE INTERACTIONS. This is so sweet and pure.

It looks like Tom made pistachio flavored macaroons. At least it looks like it to me, when I tried them, green was pistachio flavor.

Marinette is excited to share these with her class. I wonder if it’s a tradition she tries to do where she brings goodies to the first day of school, maybe her try to make friends cause friends in this school usually stick to one other person, and before Alya, it looks like Marinette didn’t have that one person in her life. Baby girl looked alone. Maybe the liar from her past was the best friend she had before and that could be why her grudge against liars is so personal.

Marinette designed the bakery logo. Also Tom likes ruffling up her hair.

Kisses and hugs! Aw this is so pure. And Tom is able to save Marinette’s luck by saving the cookies.

Marinette almost got hit by a car sweetie you need to be more careful.

And there is Fu, exaggeratedly endangering himself. And NO ONE notices, all locked on their phones.

The car isn’t slowing down at all for Fu, asshole.

YOU ASS. Someone just stepped on one of her cookies. Damn you.

Despite this, Marinette is able to roll with it and move on, offers Fu a cookie. A green cookie.

Fu likes her and deems her worthy. He doesn’t need a cane to walk around at all.

Nino used to sit in the back, only came up front because Bustier suggested it. He comes down with a slump in his shoulders, his headphones on an just looking like he doesn’t want to be there. I wonder if him and Nathanael are friends since Nathanael would’ve sat beside Nino.

Marinette just sits down and Chloe’s already on her. Marinette isn’t surprised, though is surprised that Chloe wants her seat. According to Marientte, she’s been in Bustier’s class for 4 years and has sat in the seat the whole.

Sabine is the one that backs Marinette needs to move, “New school year, new seats.” This suggests that Sabrina has joined Chloe in bullying Marinette, or at least has helped her here.

Alya is new. Whether she’s entirely new to Paris moving from Martinique, I can’t say.

Chloe has decided Adrien’s seat for him. And while she could move Nino and directly sit beside Adrien, she’s inclined to sit behind him instead. Maybe so she can still sit with Sabrina too and this is her way of becoming close to them both?

Marinette for sure doesn’t know who Adrien is.

Chloe claims Adrien is her best friend and that he adores her. Nothing about them being romantically involved.

Alya is the first to rise up and challenge Chloe, stepping up for Marinette. Chloe and Sabrina are amused by this and the whole class is watching, waiting to see what could happen.

Alya just drags Marinette out of her seat and to her side, not intimidated by Chloe at all.

Oh poor baby fell again and lost more cookies.

Bustier allowed this tension to play out.

There is a superhero known as Majestia who Alya adores... she kinda looks like Rose.

Alya views the world in black and white, she labels Chloe has evil and she and Marinette are good. She is not up to let Chloe get away with being evil and have her way.

Chloe in turn is just looking out and probably waiting for Adrien to arrive.

Chloe is sad that Adrien wasn’t able to make it.

Adrien is rebelling against Gabriel and going to school like he wants. Nathalie and Gorilla appear to be inclined to let him, making no move to grab him.

It looks like Adrien turns expecting praise for helping Fu, only to get scolding looks instead.

Gorilla does put a hand on Adrien’s shoulders, while Nathalie does look furious. She has come far in growing to care for Adrien.

Fu is satisfied with who he has found.

D’Argencourt for sure teaches PE, and those that don’t have PE next go to the library next. Marinette and Alya for sure don’t have PE next after Bustier.

Ivan doesn’t react well to being teased by Kim.

Kim, Max, Rose, Nino, and Alix have PE with D’Argencourt after Bustier’s class.

Damocles appears to not be fond of Ivan. When Ivan comes in, he tells him to leave and knock.

Alya pulls Marinette up when she falls and pulls her along to see what’s going on.

Marinette recognizes Ivan’s voice.

Alya is excited to see this. And for the potential to see a superhero.

I wonder how does Fu get them inside their rooms. Does he magic them in there? Does Wayzz bring them in? Fu appears excited to give Adrien a miraculous, most likely aware that he is the son of at least one miraculous user.

Nathalie teaches Adrien history.

Adrien had snuck out to go to school, Nathalie has informed Gabriel and she does look away from Adrien when he learns of it.

Gabriel deems the world is dangerous and that his home is safe.

Nathalie is inclined to let her and Adrien stop for the day.

In the Agreste family portrait, Gabriel used to wear blue, which suggests he’s the previous peacock through color theory, and in Chinese symbolism, blue represents healing, conserving, immortality, relaxation, calm, and trust. And he also wears a silver vest which is wealth and romance, echoing he has a happy life with Mama and Adrien.

Mama wears a lot of white, which largely symbolizes mourning, but also innocence and confidence. She also has black (protection and support), and some purple in her color scheme, which is spiritual awakening and mental and physical healing.

Adrien in the previous year wore white, tortoise (which would mix of blue and green in symbolism, green meaning striving, balance, calm, sensitivity), and blue jeans.

Adrien threw his things to the floor before flopping on his bed.

He has a huge globe right next to his bed. And a white pillow, dark blue blanket with a red stripe.

Roger had his arm hurt, most likely the car hitting his arm.

Marinette officially hates first days of school.

When Marinette opens the box, the earrings glow in a pink light, with pink representing love.

The ring glows yellow-green, yellow represents support, nourishing, reliability, warmth, and clarity.

Marinette calls Tikki a giant bug at first, then mouse, and then a bug-mouse. Tikki is well practiced in avoiding objects.

Also it appears kwamis are asleep when sealed in the miraculous. Tikki sleeps curled up. Plagg sleeps stretched out with paws beneath his head. Tikki wakes up easy and is alert right off the bat, more likely the morning person between her and Plagg, Plagg is still pretty sleepy.

Adrien is probably rare in being excited in meeting a kwami. I bet Alya will be the 2nd we see that’s excited to meet her kwami.

Plagg has met the genie in the lamp, and does confirm that he grants wishes, then states that he is a lot more personable than the genie. Plagg, did someone give you up for a genie? Why do you feel you need to confirm this?

Swanky. Don’t hear that word too often.

Plagg immediate starts biting random object to see what’s food. It appears despite being set on Camembert, he is open to trying new foods.

Plagg doesn’t know what a Foosball table is.

Plagg is a curious cat that wants to explore his new home, Adrien is the new owner who wants to play with the curious kitty but curious kitty is occupied.

Tikki though aims to get to the point. Tikki is fine being in a glass if it allows Marinette to feel safer.

Adrien just scaled up the rockwall and jumped down from it to grab Plagg. He somehow landed on the couch safely. Boi. That is dangerous don’t do that.

“I’m a kwami. I grant powers. Your powers are destruction. Got it?”

“Uh uh.”

Plagg really sucks at explaining stuff. Evidently it’s good enough for Plagg, he wants food.

Adrien doesn’t think his dad has a sense of humor.

Plagg is serious that no one should know about his existence.

Tikki stresses that only Marinette can stop Stoneheart.

Wayzz is unsure of Fu’s choices. Fu has chosen wrong once before. Speculating this to be HM, Gabriel, or Mama.

Marinette thinks Tikki should go to Alya, Tikki insists that Marinette’s the chosen one.

There goes Plagg unrolling toilet paper and making a mess. Plagg encourages Adrien to break rules. Unlike Tikki who does push for Marinette to accept and pressure that she’s the one, Plagg is leaving it open to Adrien, telling him he has to be willing to change for there to be a change.

Plagg stuck himself into the toilet roll. This cat.

Adrien for sure is one of those people that skips the tutorial, not letting Plagg finish his explanation. This is probably why Plagg hasn’t revealed any other of the bc miraculous’ power, he’s too eager.

Adrien is loving this.

Marinette isn’t crazy about it.

Kwamis cannot talk to their holders then they’re transformed.

Seeing Alya pursuing Stoneheart pushes for Marinette to act. Sabine almost sees LB.

There she goes.

Adrien is so ready he isn’t scared at all.

PE at the school is done at the stadium.

Alya is the one to push Marinette to act once again.

Adrien calls her Wonderbug. It doesn’t click in his Adrien’s mind that every time he hits ST, he grows.

I’m surprised no one really talks about it, but it’s kind of scary that Adrien intended to use Cataclysm on ST. By Dark Cupid, I think Adrien does think about that and it does scare him.

Adrien isn’t impressed by Lucky Charm, he thinks Cataclysm is the cooler power.

Adrien thinks she’s crazy.

A few seconds after the akuma leaves, uncaptured, the transformation drops.

Adrien is the first to fall for her, or at least he’s very starry eyed.

Bug Lady is the 2nd name he calls her.

This is the first time he calls her My Lady.

Alya asks if LB got stung by a radioactive ladybug... wouldn’t bite be a more appropriate?

Marinette chooses the name Ladybug.

Tikki already loves Marinette and is up to cuddle her. She does look concerned to see Marinette go at her father’s call.

Plagg doesn’t like fruit.

Plagg is the one that tells Adrien he likes Camembert. Adrien does not like Camembert already.

Plagg is very concerned to see more STs, and he and Tikki were unaware that the akuma wasn’t captured. It appears they have limited knowledge about what happens outside their miraculous, since Plagg was aware of what Adrien did during Dark Cupid.

Plagg insists only LB can capture akumas and reverse damage. Tikki backs this. It could be possible that BC can’t cleanse akumas at all, for sure not reverse damage.

Tikki is upset to hear Marinette say she’s not up to be LB.

Kwamis disappear the instant miraculouses are off. Marinette needs to have both earrings off when rejecting to have Tikki gone.

For now, Marinette hides the miraculous away in her vanity.

HM can store an akuma in his cane. This could allow him to make one other while the one before it resides in the cane, waiting for the previous Champion to be ready.

#miraculous ladybug #Punch Rewatches ML #Origins Part 1 #Ladybug and Chat Noir

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poppun-chan · 7 years

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The Year of Keroro Challenge Update 5 (Yes Sir)

We’re Back! Actually this one was much easier than the last when I actually had the chance to work on it. Either way I’m going to be doing this a little bit differently, the end result will still be the same it’s more a difference in the production process so it will be easier to catch up.

On that note I had a bit of a surprise, I thought I was going to have several bits of writing to cover between the “Room of Reflection” and Labbie’s dry erase board on uses for bread crusts, but now it turns out both of those were more or less covered by Funimation (A few of the room of reflection notes seem to have been missed) so I have a whole bunch of unexpected free space now which I’d like to use to thank everyone who has been following my updates....And to give a special mention to DeadofFrogs who has been commenting on all of them, I just wanted to let you know that I do read and appreciate your comments, even if I can’t always think of something to say in response.

And now as usual, the plan count:

Serious Plans: K66:18 D66:1 MMK:1 TMM:1 (The anime one was a bit hard to classify since it could also be a funding one)

Funding Plans: K66:2

It’s a plan, I Swear!: K66:6 (I threw the birthday one in for good measure)

Oh look! Progress!: K66:3

Also I somehow forgot to bring this up last time but in regards to episode 22, has anyone else realised this? It’s a bit odd that Tamama made such a big deal out of being leader since, unless he’d have to cross Momoka in the process, he technically has an army of sorts at his disposal already in the form of Momoka’s bodyguards (speaking of which, I wonder how he kept everything from that episode from getting back to her)

Episode 29: Oh goodness this episode is just full of fun little easter eggs....And Keroro’s acting, that’s just hilarious. Either way the first is Keroro parody Chigusa Tsukikage, the acting mentor from the shoujo manga “Glass Mask” who has a similar hairstyle to the one Keroro wears in the episode to hide the burn marks on her face. Rabbie’s bit about uses for bread crusts is a nod to a trope in Japan that a staple food for poor characters is the bread crusts that bakeries throw away when making their sandwiches (They sell crust-less sandwiches)

I remember somebody mentioning that the members of the Newspaper club are likely inspired by the human children from Doraemon (less Nobita), and I can sort of see that; but more than that has anyone else noticed the small animal they test the device on looks a bit like Ryo-ohki from the Tenchi series? No really, look at it.

Episode 30: Now let’s all be honest with our ourselves, this episode represents our worst case scenario when meeting our online friends; we all say it’s finding out the other person is really a creep twice our age sporting a moose hat or a serial killer or something like that, but after several years we can assume such people would have lost patience. No, secretly the thing we dread the most is having the other person meet the people we see everyday and reference all the times we’ve vented our frustrations over things they’ve done.

Oh! One thing I noticed was that Taruru mentions being the representative of the 4th year group, not the kindergarten group....granted that doesn’t really tell us that much; in Japan only elementary school has a 4th year, but since Keron is a different planet altogether they could have a fourth year of middle school or high school, or it could be a system where the first year of training starts much later than you’d except (maybe around 11 or 12). Another is at the end Tamama says “Our Generation’s Turn”, not “Your Generation”, but the Funimation release’s subtitles fixed that anyway (my guess it is was a typo, it does make more sense with “Our” though since the age gap between the two doesn’t seem to be that big)

Moving along to part b, regardless of your stance on these sort of things and whether we should show developing characters being insecure about their appearances and working through it or whether we should have them always be satisfied with it no matter what (I lean more towards the former, it covers the people who arrive at insecurities on their own), can we just take a moment to look at Momoka’s Mother? She more or less looks the way Momoka wants to and considering the other ways she takes after her Mother, just waiting a few years to see what happens seems a viable option (Though I have to admit I never understood when other girls compared their appearances to adult women; it’s like comparing a kitten and a cat, you’re a similar thing but you’re not there yet). I have to admit I never really went through this though, my parents didn’t really draw much attention to these things and there’s quite a lot I didn’t notice about my appearance until I turned 20 (Plus I had a back brace I wore most of the day from ages 9-15 because my back muscles weren’t strong enough and after it came off most of the major changes had already happened, like a butterfly)

Episode 31: Aww! This one was quite cute, really there’s no other way I can describe it, this episode has a lot of really adorable moments between Keroro’s excitement over his space craft, the effort he goes through to make it back with his souveneer, and the moments with the narrator. And of course the two sweetest moments of the episode: the interaction with the Mojajin had the same sort of charm as seeing somebody pay a backhanded, yet sincere compliment and seeing Natsumi go searching for Keroro was adorable as well. I’m going to admit, when I first watched the series Natsumi’s way of handling the aliens rubbed me the wrong way and it still does, especially when she does the authoritarian “I’m forbidding it and expect you to just accept it” bit (honestly, I can’t condone that behaviour in anyone), so the opening was a bit dicey for me but the ending makes up for it. Really Keroro and Natsumi have one of the most tumultuous relationships in the show, so the rare moments when we get to see that they do care about each other are always nice to see.

And as a side note, the moment with the frog was absolutely hilarious; I always love it when you see characters based on an animal species interacting with that animal (Honestly, I’m shocked that after four movies Equestria Girls still hasn’t done a “Pony meets Horse” joke)

Episode 32: I’m going to take a moment to ask the one question that’s been burning in the back of my mind since I first saw this episode and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s wondered this: What would happen if they used this thing on a frog? Would it turn into a Human or a Keronian? There’s the potential for quite a few humour moments with this one and I would have loved to see that explored a bit. Also does anyone else find it funny that when Keroro explains why a Panda would make a good ally he basically describes a role that’s already filled by Tamama? Having a cute appearance, but becoming violent when you get too close. Actually Pandas aren’t especially aggressive towards humans, they have attacked them, but usually out of irritation (Dolphins would fit the cute yet deadly bit better than a Panda, some species such as the Atlantic Bottlenose Dolphin hunt for sport).

Having said that I’m guessing the Zoo they visit is based on the Ueno Zoo since that Zoo is located in Tokyo and did have a Panda at the time; though that Panda was male, also the Elephants they had during the war died of starvation, there’s a memorial, and a historically inaccurate picture book about it and everything

Episode 33: Now this one is interesting, my goal is to be a director/producer of animation (I’ve actually been working on a story board for a fan project) so I always enjoy a peek into the production process, especially for shows. It’s doubly interesting since the process they show is very different from in North America where the voice acting is typically done first, while the method shown here has it as the last step (it must make dubbing foreign shows easier though, if you usually do something similar anyway)

Though there are a couple of options for a difficult to draw pose that weren’t in here that I remember from the classes I took, one is taking a picture so you don’t have to have a model standing for as long. The other is a bit controversial considering the sensibilities I’ve seen from some fan artists, but it’s something called a swipe file. Basically it’s a collection of pictures that that catch your interest that you can use for inspiration, reference and things you can’t get to look right. I know some people don’t approve, but some professionals do actually trace poses and details they have trouble with, especially if it’s something like key animation where you have to make a large number of drawings in a short period of time with nothing to work off of (in-between animation is easier since you’re working off the key drawings and most of the image is the same once you figure out how the character will go from pose a to pose b, and the inking stage of cel animation even more so, enough that Walt Disney replaced the entire inking depart with photocopy machines after Sleeping Beauty released in theaters because the film did poorly and the studio was in financial trouble as a result). If nothing else it’s a good way to practice since you can build muscle memory.

I just wanted to mention this since I remember a while back in another fandom that a lot of people were scandalised when it came out that one artist known for drawing comics had been using screenshots to get the basic pose he built the character on top of and I thought people’s reactions were a bit unfair given how quickly he had been putting his comics together. Especially since nobody was bothered by vector tracing and it’s apparently something that the animation industry has done for years (Some actually do more than that, I remember reading a book from overseas that mentioned a possible shortcut for monochrome pieces of keeping a stack of travel and real estate brochures and catelogues to cut out background from. That I don’t know if you’d be able to do here though)

Episode 34: Oh I remember this one, to be honest I prefer the ending in the anime version, not just because everyone gets to go, but also because it acknowledges the fact that Keroro never needed a ticket to begin with (on a side note, I feel the Tamama shaped canon on Momoka’s powered suit is a fun little touch).

As for part 2, actually I don’t think I’ve watched either part of this episode very many times, but watching it again I’m surprised that one Duet with Keroro & Fuyuki doesn’t play, the one about finding a pebble while walking....Having said that I remember back when I first watched the series, the song boulevard of broken dreams played on the radio a lot and I think this episode was the reason for a parody that always popped into my head of Keroro singing it as “Boulevard of broken plates” (By the way, the best way to fix ceramics is to moisten it and use crazy glue; it needs moisture to stick so running it under the faucet should work)

Episode 35: It’s the birthday episode! I remember this inspiring an entire discussion trying to work out the approximate Birthdays of each character based on astrology (Fuyuki & Momoka have actual hints since we see their birthdays celebrated; Fuyuki’s is likely mid-October and Momoka’s in late March) we actually worked out a few, though I remember we had trouble with Dororo, Mois, Koyuki & Saburo & I’m not sure what we ultimately settled on.

Having said that Keroro’s does fit really well, there’s one person my family knows (the mother of my closest friend growing up) who has her birthday the day before Keroro’s and there are certain....similarities in their behaviour (To give you an idea, my mom first met her when I was in kindergarten and she asked my mom to be the emergency contact for her son who was in my class and my mom agreed to avoid her asking someone dangerous)

Also the gifts Giroro gives Natsumi are space versions of the items the title character of Kaguya Hime asks five suitors (one per suitor) to bring her to win her hand in marriage, in the end all of them fail since the tasks were supposed to be near impossible (it was more to stop them bothering her parents). Either way Giroro’s comment that he casually picked them up for her would probably have been a bit more believable if he had taken that claw/fang out of his head first....just a thought.

#keroro gunso #sgt frog #Year of Keroro Challenge

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eris0330 · 7 years

Text

Miss Right - Part 7

☽M. List☾ ; 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 [END]

A groan escaped your lips while you adjusted your black surgical mask. Today you weren’t quite yourself with the cold dragging along, with a massive headache. Your Mr. Unknown forced you to go to school, to keep your grades on point and find your prince and his princess. The thought of having to interact with other people, weren’t your cup of tea.

Standing in the hall, the perfect spot to observe Wonho and Mina talking besides their lockers. It pained you, when Mr. Unknown didn’t answer your messages and it discouraged you to go forward. But biting down to the bone, you decided today was the day, you would do it without his help. But the feel of cold water running down your spine, was terrifying. The thought of maybe after today, you would get his princess, but that also meant you had to split afterwards. That was the deal between the of you, and you weren’t the kind to break deals. A feel of sadness rushed over you, but you shrugged it off pretending it was your fever that acted up.

“Who needs some stranger to help me talk to people pfft, I’ll get your damn princess…” You snickered, letting out a few coughs on the way. The cold wasn’t nice to you, it was so bad you couldn’t think clearly either. Marching over to the group of people with determination, the speakers rough sound interrupted your Naruto run.

“Music students A-B-C-D have to gather in council hall in 15 minutes, thank you.”

Every person around you started moving towards the big hall, that you were assigned to meet. Confused and dazed, you heard faint screaming in the back. Completely forgetting about Wonho and Mina, you followed the screams. Female and male students were crowding the front door, while teachers and people wearing black clothes were keeping the students inside and in control. Furrowing your brows, not realising what the big fuss was about. You gave up trying to look over the tall people and proceeded to council hall.

Finding a seat not too far away from the stage, where the principal and music teachers were standing on. You put your bag away while scanning the room of people, noticing how there were gathered students from your art class.

“Why are they here?” You wondered, seeing their phones lighten up the room.

The principal cleared his voice, before he got the microphone close to his lips. Shushing the students so they could move on, but it seemed that everyone knew what was going to happen, besides you.

“We have gathered the music students, for a special event we were lucky to host. I believe a lot of you have a dream of making big things, with your creations. Singer, composer and rappers. So, today we were lucky enough to get a famous group to perform and talk about their journey in their career. You will be able to ask them questions, but keep in mind that they won’t have long before they have another event to attend to. We welcome you BANGTAN BOYS!”

An amount of cheering, cries and shouting were filling the room as the seven boys walked upon the stage. Their recent comeback song was playing, letting them find their spot before they danced and sang along. Girls on your right and boys on your left, were filming with their phones having tears in their eyes. Still dazed because of the fever, you were trying to figure out everything.

“Hold up, what? BTS? HERE? ON MY SCHOOL? WHAT??” Everything rushing in your mind, you were silently jamming along their song. It was odd, to think one of your favourite idol groups, would be performing on your school. On the other hand, you didn’t know how you skipped out on this kind of information. The boys killed the girls with their hand hearts and smirks, while some made cute facial expressions.

It was not a lie, that you wished you could live the idol life. Singing, rapping and composing songs like them. Ruling the world, with your music. They were your inspiration and seeing them perform live, was magnificent. You were only three seats away from the stage, you could almost smell their cologne if it wasn’t for the sweaty students in front of you. The loud music and screams, were not helping upon the headache you had. Finishing off the song, the principal and everyone else gave them a round of applause, while thanking them for coming to your school, even though they had a busy schedule. Warming up their bodies from the dance, you blessed their stylist for giving them perfect fitting jeans so you could see their muscles through the fabric.

“Seriously Y/N? Strong thighs really makes you speechless” You thought, chuckling over yourself.

Hoseok’s smile blinding the world, being the sun of wonder. While Jungkook killed girls with his bunny smile and glare on the girls who couldn’t keep themselves from calling out ‘oppa’, teasing him a bit more than usual. Namjoon’s dimples were like diamonds, as Jin’s brunette hair and hand kisses killed not only girls, but boys too. Taehyung’s boxy smile and dabbing towards the end, had most cheers while Jimin tried to control the meme boy. Jimin’s jawline almost cut your eyes, as his eyebrows wiggled along some cheers. You noticed he tried to keep his cool-side for the crowd, but failed miserably when Yoongi teased him about Blood, sweat and tears, making him smile his significant smile that you loved so much.

They boys stood in a line, getting ready to answer questions from various people. Your hand raising without your knowledge, not even thinking of a question to ask them. Their faces always made you forget a good question, but it didn’t matter anyways. The students around you were like wild animals, going crazy to let them be picked. If you ever got picked, you would be grateful. Your hand was constantly raised, even though the amount of times it was never picked. You heard their stories of starting from a small company, to working together becoming to where they are now. It was a blessing hearing what they fought and believed in, giving hope to you and others.

“What in world do I want to ask them…” You wondered and pondered on. The fever giving you a hard time to think, making you feel dazed and even to the point, where you were unsure how your legs worked.

“Yea? The girl with the mask on” A voice interrupting and attention pointed towards you. Looking up on the scene, Jimin looked your way with a microphone in his hand. He picked you, to let you ask a question.

Clutching to your chest, you felt heat rise inside of you as your heart beat slower. This was your chance, to finally interact with them. What would be a good question? Ask about their songs? Their success? Their comeback? Every possible question popped in your head, as the surgical mask gave you a hard time to breathe. If it was like an anime, there would be a steam coming out of your mouth.

“Come on Y/N… don’t be such a wuss. They are RIGHT THERE. SAY SOMETHING…” You thought, seeing Jimin’s face falter over not getting a question from you. His face turning towards Namjoon, who mirrored his face. Unsure what to do, the principal took the microphone out of Jimin’s hand.

“Right, is there anyone else?” He spoke

“WAIT!” You yelled, feeling the tension rise again. You swore you heard people commenting on your lack of compassion, to other students, keeping them away from asking another question. But right now, at this moment, you didn’t care.

“I hope you’re healthy and….” You trailed off, seeing the student’s eyebrows knit upon your words. Sighing loudly, you continued what you wanted to say.

“I mean, despite your comeback and stuffed schedule. I hope that you all are healthy, how are you?” You finished, hearing a chuckle from the back of the crowd. Even though they were idols and a lot of people admired them and some only saw them as entertainment monkeys making money. You saw them as human beings, like anyone else. Knowing yourself, working your ass off to get good grades. You knew, hard work was harsh on your body. Seeing yourself as having a cold, you still went to school and that wasn’t so different from being an idol. Having work, you were assigned to do what you were told. It pained you, knowing they maybe still attended work, still feeling sick or having horrible feelings, but putting up an act to not worry anyone. They had a role, they needed to keep it. You just wanted to know, if they were okay. They were just a normal person and they should be treated like one.

Jimin’s half-moon eyes and a smile so adorable, it shot an arrow at your heart. He giggled and so did the rest of the group. Namjoon took the microphone out of the principal’s hand, with a smile flashing his dimples, he answered;

“We are all healthy and well, thank you. We are working hard and doing what we love, but we always take a break to look out for our health. If we don’t, we wouldn’t be here today. Taking care of your health is important and this isn’t only for us, but everyone.” He spoke, getting different nods from the group. While the students cheered upon his answer, but before Namjoon could give the microphone to Yoongi, Jimin snaked around the boys to take it back.

“I’m feeling great! Thank you very much, for asking” He spoke into the microphone, letting his smile brighten the room. His eyes pointed in your direction and locked eyes, it was like it was just the two of you. Knowing they were healthy and doing well, was everything you needed to know. Nodding at his answer, you felt sad he couldn’t see your smile under the black surgical mask. The principal took the microphone back, speaking yet again;

“The time has run out and we need to say goodbye to BTS. Thank you for coming and…”

Losing concentration on the principal, your dazed form turned to the worst, feeling your legs disappear. A painful headache and dizziness took over, while you tried to stabilize against the chair. The sound of students cheering and yelling, turned to muffles, while everything turned black. You vanished from your body and the last thing you felt was the harsh ground, against your head.

*Jimin’s point of view*

“Damn it, I forgot my phone…” Jimin whispered, looking through his bag. Jungkook who was sitting beside him, was noticing the distress upon his hyung.

“Do anyone know what we are going to do now?” The maknae questioned, making Taehyung take his one earbud out to ponder on the question.

“We’re going to some performance school” He finally answered, making Jungkook look oblivious.

“But what’s the name of the school?” The youngest questioned again, making Taehyung shrug on his shoulders as an answer. The maknae sighed loudly, but continued to look at his other hyung who was cursing under his breath.

“What are you stressing about?” He asked the blonde distressed person. Jimin gave up and sighed loudly, leaning against the car seat. “I forgot my phone” He muttered, feeling a slight discomfort.

“We’re going back to the dorm in a few hours, you can live without it until then” Yoongi spoke in the back, taking his headphones off to lean forward. Jimin’s distress of not having his phone, made him feel naked but also annoyed.

“I know but…” Jimin trailed off, making Yoongi furrow his brows. Shrugging his shoulders, he put his headphones back on to let Jimin deal with it himself.

“Wait” Jungkook blurted out, pointing his finger towards his hyung with his eyes big like teacups.

“This is not only about not having you phone. You’re annoyed because you can’t text Y/N!” He finished, making Jimin shush him.

“SH! It’s not because I can’t text her, or… it kind of is. But I promised her I would be there when she was going to approach Wonho…. She relies on me and now I can’t help her if she texts me” Jimin defended, feeling something tug on his heart.

“Yeah right. She is old enough to take care of herself.” Jungkook spoke again, leaning against the car seat. Making Jimin frown at his answer, since he was right.

Jimin knew you could easily take care of yourself, but something told him that he needed to be there. It was a promise and the same like you, he disliked breaking promises. More of all, you were sick and it was his fault you went to school. He didn’t know how you were doing, or hear what your plan was. It saddened him, but was it really only because of the promise? Something made him feel nervous, because what if you succeeded in speaking to Wonho and get to Mina. That way, he might come back to messages from an unknown number and your last message saying ‘Deal done, bye.’

He wasn’t ready to lose you, not yet. You were there to accompany when he felt down, or when he needed some comfort. It was always you. The feeling of his heart race faster of the thought of your name, the screams of people interrupted his mind. Looking out of the car window, students were piling at the front gate. Students have made huge signs with multiple messages and love. Getting inside would be a struggle, but he felt relieved knowing their manager requested body guards.

Soon enough the boys were behind the stage, to hear the students call out their names in a beautiful chant. It made everyone feel pumped and before they went on stage, they made a group cheer. Walking on the stage, they were amazed over the number of students that were crowded in the council hall. It varied between boys and girls, but they didn’t get much time to adjust before their comeback song got played. Jimin and the others found their spot, getting into character of charisma that overflew the stage.

Everything happened so quickly and Jimin got lost in how many questions got asked. It was to no one’s surprise, that there were questions about their career and relationships. Requests were also made, but they had to refuse since they didn’t have a lot of time. He hasn’t been lucky to get the microphone yet, but when he finally did. He scanned the room, to pick out a person for the next question. The wild students who jumped I hopefulness, in getting picked. He saw this specific girl, who was wearing a mask. She looked down a lot and seemed to be the most calm out of everyone in the room, neither did she seem that interested. Not knowing her name, he called out ‘the girl in the mask’.

His eyes met hers and he felt some aura, he couldn’t read. She didn’t say anything, but seemed out of place. It was like he caught her red-handed in taking someone’s stuff and it confused him, maybe he picked the wrong person? She didn’t seem to say anything, so the principal took over. It saddened Jimin, not hearing from her.

But she did. Her voice that sounded soft and delicate, he swore her vocals tugged on his heart. She seemed nervous upon her first words, making everyone wonder. But when she finished her question, Jimin felt warm. His body’s heat raised hearing her words, tickling his eardrums. It wasn’t a question about his career or relationships, but it was about him. About him as a human, a question he rarely hears. It made him smile, so bright that he maybe killed a girl in the back. Even though her words were so sincere, Namjoon was the one to answer. But it didn’t stop Jimin from answering too, because it was originally his question. His eyes finding hers again, they were locked together. He swore under his breath, that he knew her. There was something about her words, or aura, that he had been around before. He just couldn’t put his finger on where, or who. The principal snapped Jimin out of his thoughts, finishing off the event. But a crowd of surprised voices, made Jimin’s attention point towards the sound of distress. Students panicking and body guards rushing towards the scene. The girl he just answered a question to, had fainted. Was his charisma that powerful?

“She has a high fever”

“No wonder she was so slow on her question”

“She should have stayed home”

“She must be a big fan”

Jimin overheard the crowd of students, saying the same phrase repeatedly. A bodyguard lifted the girl to the infirmary, to get some rest. Jimin felt sad, now he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Neither, will he get the chance to ask what her name was. It was a Mina-situation, over again. The principal didn’t seem distressed over the situation, when he needed to finish off the event like the deal. Jimin pouted, wishing he could just ask her what her name was. The last bow and waves, told him it was too late.

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