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marchioness-caprina · 4 years

Text

Love Scandal

Pairings : Reader x Hawks

Writing Style : 3rd Person

Warning : Slight Yandere! Hawks ( If you squint Really Hard) , Cursing

Word Count : 2754

3rd Person's POV

" You have GOT to be kidding me! " Y/n yelled in frustration as Momo gave her a concerned Look.

" So.... Is what the Tabloids saying True--"

" Of course it's not! I just work under His Agency! And what happened Yesterday was Purely out of Defense and Nothing else! " Y/n cut off Jiro immediately venting out her frustrations.

Y/n along with the girl's of the Former Class 1-A were hanging in a small Cafe to catch up since things had been pretty hectic since they became Pro Heroes a year ago.

" So.... What are you gonna Do about it? " Uraraka asked as she read even further through the article and she gasped.

" Oh no.... Don't tell me it's something terrible? " Y/n muttered already seeing what's to come judging by the look her Friend gave her.

" Uhh... You could say... You two were caught in the... Umm.. Act? " Uraraka tried finding the right words so she wouldn't annoy her friend even further before showing her phone towards y/n who's eyes widened like flying saucers.

On the screen was a picture of Her and Hawks in the Alleyway. Hawks was turning away from the camera but he clearly had his hands on y/n's hips and from this angle it looked like they were kissing.

" Ugh! For crying out loud who took this picture !? Fucking Son of a Bit--- ugh! " Y/n fumed in utter irritation her red turning extremely red not because of embarrassment but because of anger and irritation.

" Y/n calm down, I think it's best if you talk to Hawks about this... Maybe he'll clear it up Kero " Tsu suggested and y/n had already bolted out the cafe in full speed.

It was silent inside the cafe before one of the girls began talking.

" Wouldn't they make a good pair though? " Mina muttered and the girls all gave a small giggle before agreeing.

____________ Meanwhile

Y/n was stomping through The Building and her hero co-workers could clearly see the growing irritation of her aura and they were genuinely scared to approach the fuming lady.

Once y/n was outside Hawk's Office she slammed the door open revealing a resting hawks with his feet on his desk. His face was covered with an old newspaper and y/n could hear audible and soft snores coming from him.

The man was clearly unaware of her presence when she literally slammed her way inside while stomping a aloud as she could... He was unaware or so she thought .

" Hawks! Fucking wake up! " She growled her to me seeping off irritation.

Hawks stirred in his sleep and with a groan he pulled the newspaper away from his face and opened one eye to see the figure of y/n who was menacingly glaring at him.

" Hey Kid what brings you to my Nest mphf-- Ahh shoving it to my face now aren't you?... Let me guess My fault? " Hawks smirked when Y/n had forcefully shoved her phone containing the article of their so called ' Love Scandal ' .

" No shit Sherlock! You Think!? Why the fuck did you have to shove me to the alleyway like that!? I told you I could handle it!" Y/n barked as Hawks's eyes trailed down to her phone lazily reading through the article chuckling to himself.

" Ohoho~ Looks like the headlines got the best of us Kid. Just look at all these Juicy details---"

" Which are False" Y/n immediately cut in glaring at the man who gave her a Bemused expression.

" Well you did decide to get involved with a scoundrel like me---"

" Only because you keep blocking other Agencies from Hiring me because you wanted me in yours" Y/n cut him off once again to which Hawks only gave a chuckle as a reply.

" You know Kid, you gotta let me finish my sentences. Now stop being angry you'll get wrinkles " That comment made y/n furious her hand immediately came clashing on Hawks's cheek with a loud slap.

" Ohoho~ ok I guess I deserve that one for not taking it seriously " Hawks Grinned eyeing the girl infront of him.

" You've really turned Feisty Baby Bird, it feels like Yesterday you were a polite and obedient Sidekick and now here you are slapping your boss like that. You know I really gotta give you credit for not taking my bullshit like that " Hawks yawned sitting down in a more comfortable position.

" Oh come on Hawks, we know I take all of your bullshit Every fucking Day and This Time it's Kinda frustrating... Oh wait let me rephrase that. It's Extremely Frustrating! " Y/n hissed crossing her arms over her chest as her glare became ice cold and the man before her only growing Amused by her reaction.

" So what do you expect me to do? Bullshit Rumors will be Bullshit Rumors and I don't give a damn about every single one of them... So let me guess. You want me to make a public appearance and Deny everything they claim here on this Article? " Hawks questioned and Y/n who seemed to be a bit more calm now gave him a firm nod.

" Yes, that is exactly what I am expecting you To do Hawks. I want this Rumor to Vanish immediately. You deny it and I Deny it too, let's explain why we were in that position " Y/n stated her tone was calm and collected , the opposite of the tone she used before.

Hawks nodded his head continuously in a slow and lazy manner his eyes never leaving the girl as his expression seemingly showing as if he was in deep thought.

" Yeah.... I could do that but" Hawks paused a playful glint displaying through his orbs, his eyes meeting hers that smirk on his face never seemed to falter.

" But what? " Y/n questioned clearly growing irritated again.

" But I won't " His answer set y/n off ten folds and she was so close to flipping his desk . She almost did but Hawks stopped her before she could wreck the whole place.

" Just Kidding. I will " He laughed and y/n was too pissed off to deal with her antics she just turned around and left.

" I'll call the press. You better clear this mess Hawks " She spat out before leaving.

Oh y/n, she has no Idea Hawks had cunningly planned all of this from the very beginning so he could slowly have his way around her. Hawks had been patient with her ever since the first year she had interned in his agency as a student. The moment he met this strange epitome of beauty named y/n he became a love struck desperate man who craved nothing but the affection of his most prized position. Y/n.

He Even went out of his way to reason or more like threaten other agencies who were more than willing to take her in as a new pro hero. He was so so selfish to let her go and he was desperate to have her by his side.

He even purposely pairs himself with her during missions so he could protect and watch over her. He had given subtle clues that he likes her but apparently his little baby bird wasn't smart in the love department . But he was patient. But the moment people started making rumors about her and That other New Hero Named Deku claiming that they would become a really ' cute ' hero couple if they ended up dating. He was more than furious. Dammit he wanted everyone to Know that His baby bird is Exclusively His. Only His.

So he devised a plan and even hired a photographer to take a picture of them ' in the act' and hired an editor to write something about it and spread it everywhere on the internet to cause a media wild fire that y/n and hawks are dating.

And everything was going according to plan. He knew y/n would come to his office to complain about this and convince him to deny it, he knew she'd be fuming in anger , he knew she was here the moment she stepped inside the building and all that's left is to face the press with his 'announcement' that is sure to surprise everyone including y/n.

________________ The Press Meeting.

" So is it true that you and Pro Hero Hawks are dating H/n? " A reported asked y/n to which she shook her head to.

" What is Taking Hawks so long? " She grumbled , the room was flooded with cameramen and reported and the flashes of camera light was starting to get to her.

And on Cue the winged Hero arrived in the room looking as smig as ever.

" It's Hawks! Make sure to catch this on Camera! " The reporter yelled and so on the area was Flooded with questions left and right and Hawks seemed to be unbothered by it.

" Hawks! End this already " Y/n yelled at Hawks who grinned at her playfully.

" You're so Impatient Baby bird " He muttered making the girl glare at him.

" Don't call me that " She grumbled but Hawks ignored her. Instead he picked up the Microphone and started tapping on it.

" Testing, Testing ok it's working. Can you all please be quiet and I'll answer your question" Hawks announced and slowly the room faded into silence and once everything has quieted down Hawks cleared his throat the microphone still in his hand.

" Ok, I know it caused a Dramatic Mishap to Ensue the Moment everyone saw the article and I would like to clear some things out regarding that Love Scandal... Me and H/n are Not dating! I repeat NOT Dating! " Hawks stated loud and clear through the microphone.

Y/n sighed thinking that it was finally the end but No. Hawks had other plans.

" We're not Dating Cause She's My Fucking Wife! " Hawks announced and everyone was silent.

Y/n was frozen in place unable to think clearly and her expression showed it all. Hawks had a victorious grin on his face, the whole crowd of reporters and camera men were quiet and it took them 5 seconds to actually let that information Sink in.

" WHAT!? " Y/n exploded and she rose up from her seat and soon the reporters started shooting different questions their way .

" Hawks what the actual fuck!? Is this a Prank!? ---" Y/n was caught off guard when Hawks scooped her off her feet and smashed his lips against hers silencing her in a short yet passionate kiss.

" How's that for a Picture show?! " Hawks yelled to the reporters before finally flying away from the commotion holding his baby bird in his hands who was now by the way. Fuming with anger once again.

________________

Y/n was furious and when she's furious she gets violent and she started thrashing around forcing Hawks to land on the rooftop on a random building.

" Hawks! What the fuck was that!? Ugh! Why'd you do that!? Was that some sick Joke!?" She growled as she shot Hawks one of her menacing glares to which he wasn't affected to.

" Maybe it is... Maybe it isn't " Hawks answered the smirk on his face seemed to be permanent when he's with her.

" Dammit! You Fucking Asshole!. Shit! How the Fuck am I gonna clear this up now!? I should have gone to Fatgum's agency instead! You know what!? I'm going to request a transfer! Fatgum is way nicer anyways---" She was cut off when Hawks had swept his feet under hers thus knocking her on the ground. With a Yelp her back was slammed on the ground with Hawks hovering above her.

" Say that to me again Baby Bird and I swear.... Even if I have to .... I'll Destroy Fat Gum's agency into a pile of debris... Don't Temp me... I will do it.... You have no idea how long I've been trying to get you to notice me and my feelings... Yet you always seemed to bullshit it away every Fucking time! " Hawks yelled letting all of his emotions get the best of him.

And for the first time. Y/n saw Hawks at his Most Vulnerable state. Not the calm and collected Hawks who never seemed to break. Right now was a man who experienced hundreds of rejections from one girl... Y/n.

How could she be so blind? Now that she thinks back to the past she did remember every sweet and romantic thing Hawks did for her and how he asked her out on daily basis to which she thought was just a flirtatious joke. She was both dense and stupid when it came to love and she didn't notice that the man whom she had fallen for actually loved her back.

Hawks always kept his composure but today she's seeing none of it... Just Hawks. Not the Pro Hero Hawks... Just Hawks.

He was always joking when he's around her that she brushes off every flirtatious comment from him to be a joke too. But now that everything had come to light. It was undeniably obvious.

"... You really hate me that much? " Hawks voice was so soft and timid, it almost didn't sound like him at all.

Y/n was surprised at his sudden comment that she was pulled back to reality her eyes meeting with his but to her shock. She saw the eyes of a hurt and broken man .

Guilt overtook her . She loved him but she always pushed her feelings aside having the fear of being rejected because Hawks is incredible in every way and y/n...is y/n.

Her eyes widened when a single teardrop fell on her cheek and that tear came from Hawks who was trying his hardest to keep his shit together. How can you have this powerful affect on him? It's driving him Nuts. Does he have to kidnap her so she'd stay with him? Does he have to fake her death and keep her all to himself? He was close to that breaking point but that psychotic thought was immediately thrown to the side and forgotten when y/n had reached over to cup his cheeks and brought his face down inches from hers only to scoop his lips in her own for a long, passionate and loving kiss.

Hawks was unable to respond at first because. It was surreal. Y/n was finally accepting him! He felt her slowly pull back but he was having none of it! He waited so long for this moment!.

Pushing his lips down to hers he indulged himself in the sweet taste of y/n's lips, opening her mouth slightly she granted him entrance inside her wet cavern where his tongue explored every inch and claiming it as his own. Their lips danced in sync in a steady and passionate movement.

Once the two pulled away his eyes pierced hers as if asking if she meant it to which y/n replied with a laugh.

" Hawks you dumbass you didn't have to make a scene like that... I love you too honestly... From the start... I was scared to tell you... I didn't want to get rejected " She answered honestly making the man frown.

" Chickadee I'd be the biggest fool alive if I'd reject you.. And that show earlier was necessary.... Everyone needs to know that the beautiful pro hero h/n is Mine... My Baby Bird " Hawks muttered kissing her cheek.

" I love you, you annoying bird man " She chuckled attempting to push him off.

" Whatever you little brat... I love you too and don't push me away... I'm touch starved by you, It's your fault so take responsibility" Hawks grumbled making the girl laugh.

" But we're on a rooftop! " She protested but Hawks only rolled his eyes cuddling right next to his y/n.

" Don't be so picky. If you keep this up we might end up in my bedroom--"

" Hawks! "

#bnha x reader #Keigo Takami #Keigo Takami x Reader #Hawks x Reader #Takami Keigo Imagine #Hawks Imagine #Bnha #Y/n #Reader #Hawks x Y/n #Boku no Hero Academia #Mha

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randomnameless · 3 years

Note

what annoys you the most with 3H? The fandom or the missed opportunities from the game?

Oh.

The fandom takes the first place, because while it was funny to craugh seeing those bad takes, 2 years after the release of the game those takes are still endorsed and built upon and it’s just impossible to discuss about FE16 without being sure that the person you’re talking to is talking about the game, or the redshit takes.

Still, I firmly believe fandom wouldn’t be that cesspool of incessant drama if the localised version (especially NoA?) didn’t take wild directions with the game. It’s incomprehensible how a game in its OG version can be saying green but the localised version everyone talks about “corrected” it to “blue”.

Scripts are more or less the same, but the directions given to the VAs?

rant under the cut about directions, voice acting and people arbitrarly pushing an agenda despite the media they’re supposed to translate/bring to non-jp crowds.

I pointed it in an earlier post (or earlier posts?) but as a french person I grew up with the 4Kids dub, which was infamous for, uh, “translating” things for western audiences, even at the cost of coherency and let’s not even talk about the source material this thing doesn’t exist. Remember the Shadow Realm from YGO? .

I watched a short anime a few years ago about the anime industry (Shirobako?) and I remember a character trying to become hired as a voice actor/seiyuu - she had to learn and to feel the character - she has to know the character as much as the author who created them.

A few years ago, I didn’t feel as if the dubbing cast worked on their characters as much as the OG!voice actors. For a recet exemples I was rewatching a certain anime with the fr dub - basically a former underling fights against his superior who became a traitor, and even if his superior doesn’t regret turning into a traitor and ultimately became a giant fly, the underling always respected his superior and treated him with proper forms of adress. In the “early 2010 dub” I watched yesterday? Yeah no, guy’s talking to him as if he is talking to his friend in a pub.

Even now, while the quality of the voice acting has improved (and I feel like people take their jobs way more seriously for the dubbing industry) - i was the first surprised with SoV’s VA - we have now directions. Because the manga/anime/game isn’t, uh, good enough or whatever, the dubbing team decides to go off and do its own thing, regardless of coherence or, worse, what was the intent/core of the og game.

I am playing MH:Rise, the game is set up in a more or less traditional “ninja” village, with a lot of old japanese (? feudal? idk) aesthetics. The devs said they wanted to return to the roots of the saga and based new monsters on Yokais, mythological monsters from the japanese folklore. When you meet a new giant monster to hunt, you have small cutscenes to introduce said monster sung with a Noh theater aesthetic (i just looked up on wikipedia i thought it was kabuki but kabuki isn’t the only form of theater whatever the more you know).

NPCs in the MH series speak their own language, often called the MHese (a bit like the sim language). IDK if it is because this opus has a japanese aesthetic, but you can pick a jp voice acting instead of the MHese (same voice actors but talking in a different language). Or you can pick the US/ENG dub, with, I suppose, US VAs. I’m not complaing about the lack of FR dub, I’m rather happy with it tbf. But, for some reason, despite the aesthetic, the yokais, the pagodas in the background, the samurai flagship cat, the katanas and whatever, I thought the Noh style cutscenes weren’t going to change, or maybe someone would try to sing in English. But it isn’t the case, the US/ENG version of those cutscenes aren’t Noh style sung, they were completely revamped, so no traditionnal songs and instruments in the background, instead have a dude describing the monster you’re about to face in a cheap National Geographic imitation.

Why remove this? Was it because US!Capcom thought the western world wouldn’t understand the Noh references (but could still understand the general “aesthetic”, just, ban on the songs?) or some shit? They couldn’t remove the flagship cat’s samurai armor to swap it for a GI uniform, so they banned the Noh cutscenes? Why?

It is the same shit NoA pulled out with the Fates localisation, Suzukaze became Kaze because... reasons?

Maybe I’m biased because I’m french, and apparently Wonder France is one of the biggest consumer of anime/manga outside japan, but the mere idea that something can be changed because it’s not “western enough so the audience wouldn’t get it” pisses me to no end, and this is why, in the beginnings of Internet (YT videos with 4 parts, megaupload etc etc) everyone I knew who watched anime ditched everything dubbed to watch the very same episode but subbed (one of my friends even worked on her english with subs!).

Back to FE16 because this is your question and I ranted enough, I cannot stress it enough regarding Rhea, but while I do not doubt Cherami Leigh made a great effort and worked her best with the tools given to her (to this day I still cannot fathom how she managed to dub Mae and Rhea, they’re so different or not seiros is genki!rhea if only leigh was given that script) Leigh!Rhea isn’t Inoue!Rhea. NoA (I harp on NoA but I suppose NoA oversaw the dubbint process/effort, NoE is inexistent) had an agenda and a reading of Rhea that isn’t the same as NoJ.

“You worthless piece of garbage” doesn’t exist in the og!script - but more importantly, delivering this, Inoue!Rhea isn’t furious, she is upset and desperate. Leigh!Rhea is furious, Cherami Leigh does an admirable job at conveying NoA!Rhea’s fury - but this is not the same character NoJ wrote. If NoA gave the same directions NoJ gave Kikuko Inoue to Cherami Leigh, I’m pretty sure the “Rhea BaD” crowd, the eating babies takes and whatever shit redshit comes up everyday would be way reduced.

Maybe @nilsh13 has redshit take saved talking about this, but if we’re not talking about the same character, what kind of discussion can even happen? (I’m sure someone someday pulled the “well i played the localised game so i’m not talking about the og script with you but with the localised script” to defend some smelly take)

Missed opportunities can be fuel for fanfics.

Discourse based on fandom drama (at this point NoA itself is part of the fandom with their “religious extremis/zealot” take)? Nothing can salvage it. I genuinely like to talk about FE16 (especially lizards), but since every topic became a landmind because of the fandom drama, even making posts in good faith can be used as a fuel for drama, or completely diverted from their original goal to suit, again, some faction war between lizards and a certain someone.

Tl; dr : Fandom.

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softbiker · 4 years

Text

Steve Rogers One Shot

Warnings: language, no editing

Word count: 5.1k (I have no excuses for this, I don’t know what happened)

Summary: Things get a little warm on a mission downtown.

A/N: Another piece in the Agent 14 series! If you’re not familiar, I suggest checking out the masterlist first so you’ve got a background on my girl’s prior association to a particular star-spangled man ;) As always, let me know what you think!

There are certain hours of the morning that Bucky would happily never see.

4:30 a.m. he could absolutely do without.

Bleary-eyed, stiff, tasting his own stale breath, he rubs at his prickled cheeks as he yawns. Why the hell did he agree to do this? He should be back in bed - he’d give his bottom dollar to be in his cozy little blanket nest right about now…he’d had to leave 28’s apartment so damn early to get back to the tower in time to grab his running clothes. To his own nose, he still smelled of sex and her bedsheets; but with a change of clothes and his hair tucked under his vintage Dodgers cap, he hoped no one would notice. Just to be safe he had splashed a few drops of cologne on his shirt and his pulse - he knew Steve’s nose was sensitive enough to pick up on the scent. Too much of a risk.

The elevator chimes brightly and opens to reveal the man of the hour - the man of this hour, who loves that pre-dawn dewy sweetness that even city air can have, before the whole machine of it hums to life. Even Steve seems a little sleepy, ruddy flush in his pale cheeks, his normally neat beard looking unkempt. The length of his hair is swept beneath his own hat, a red one bearing the NASA logo, and he’s managed to fit all of his muscled mass into the straining seams of a Nike running shirt. Jesus but he looked like some kind of ad for protein powders, one that would have gym rats scrambling - or better yet, a poster to get elementary school kids to drink their milk.

“Mornin’ Buck,” Steve smiles, rolling his shoulders and stretching a little. “You ready?”

Bucky merely grunts in assent and shuffles into the elevator, little box stuffed to capacity with the width of their shoulders.

“Down a floor, please, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Steve requests. He is unfailingly courteous to the AI, even when Tony’s not around. Bucky can relate. Their old-fashioned manners are hard to shake, even with both feet firm in the 21st century. “We’re picking up Sam, too.”

“Ugh,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I thought we were going for a run this morning; bring Sam and we might as well just power-walk around the mall like old people.”

“Buck, we are old people.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bucky yawns again, his breath leaving a puff of fog on his metal hand as he half-heartedly covers his mouth. “Took a quiz on WebMD - my biological age is only 28.”

Steve doesn’t respond - he refuses to dignify Bucky’s weird internet expeditions. Too curious for his own good, he often falls down these virtual rabbit holes, only resurfacing hours later, red-eyed and chap-lipped, uncharacteristically babbling in a twitchy-fingered frenzy about moon-landing conspiracies or the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. It always takes him a little while, a few good-natured jabs from the team, before he comes back to his normal self. The only person who’s ever been really interested in his crackpot ravings is the Parker kid - but Peter doesn’t come around too often, prioritizing his schoolwork, and even then, Steve is almost certain he’s enabling Bucky’s bad habits more than anything.

Like Bucky, Sam is waiting in front of the elevator, dressed in his running shorts and favorite purple t-shirt. He squints, puffy-eyed and pouting, at the offensively harsh light coming from the open elevator doors, hitting him full in the face.

“You old farts really like to get up early, huh?” he grumbles, shuffling between them in the already cramped elevator. “Some of us still need our beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, it looks like you haven’t been getting any,” Bucky says drily, leaning one hip against the wall.

“Mm, cause I’m too busy gettin’ some-”

“Sam,” Steve interrupts, sounding every inch the exasperated father. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Sam raises his hands in defense. “All I’m saying is, Tin Man can talk about his beauty rest while he goes to bed alone - that’s fine with me. Only way he’s getting dates is under threat of force.”

It’s fleeting, almost shy, that quirk in the corner of Bucky’s lips; he tucks it away just as quickly, turning his face towards the floor and tugging his cap down a little further. The shadow of the bill covers his eyes from Steve’s gaze, but he still aims a frown at Sam over Bucky’s head.

“Can you two at least try to get along?” he sighs, fighting to keep his own face neutral, stern, in spite of the hours of entertainment he gets watching his friends pretend they wouldn’t take a bullet for each other.

“Hey, he started it,” Sam protests on his way out of the elevator, skipping his feet to stay ahead of Bucky’s last ditch attempt to trip him.

Oy vey, Steve thinks, but he just rolls his eyes and follows them, a half-beat behind and listening to their muttered jabs traded back and forth as they make their way down the front steps and out of the building into the crisp New York morning.

A blanket of humidity holds the air close, promising a beautiful morning and a sweltering afternoon. In the pre-dawn hush, they stretch and warm up their muscles, Sam a little more intensely than the other two, as the only one in any real danger of hurting himself. He props one hand against a bench and swings one leg a few times, then the other, loosening his hamstrings. They’re a little quieter now, the close, quiet dark dampening their voices, though New York would protest their reverence for its show of sleep - even now, the headlights streak past them along the streets, buildings twinkling high into the skyline, crowding out the stars. Some jumping jacks, high knees - Sam is more careful of his tight hip these days - and then they’re off.

Despite some historical evidence to the contrary, most of which Bucky holds hostage, Steve Rogers isn’t a complete asshole. Which is why he always lets Sam set the pace when they run together - otherwise they wouldn’t be running together. Bucky complains, but Steve knows it’s just for show; Buck doesn’t really care about running (“Why do I need to run when no one’s shooting at me, Steve?”), so he’s not too pressed about going slow.

Falling into step, filling the width of the sidewalk, they make their way up to Central Park. If asked, Steve would say that he hates living in Manhattan - that his suite at the tower was opulent to the point of being oppressive, that he’d take his old one-room place in the Heights with Bucky over this near-embarrassing level of excess. But there is something to it, the glitter and chrome, the thrumming pulse of the city right at his fingertips, right there in the middle of it all, that he could never quite give up.

They take their time, keeping pace with Sam, on their first lap around the park; there are a few other runners out in the park at this hour, taking advantage of the lack of traffic and milling tourists to get in a few good miles. Some nod or lift their fingers as they pass, certainly recognizing their local celebrities, but no one stops, no one stares. Avengers are a common enough sight in this part of town; Steve can only speak for himself, but he certainly doesn’t mind the lack of attention.

On their second lap, the first hint of a glowing gradient lighting up the sky, Steve glances over at Bucky; neither of them are sweating - not even breathing hard. Sam on the other hand, while still managing a conversation, has beads of sweat forming on his forehead, a dark stain forming on the front of his shirt. Both Steve and Bucky can hear the extra beats of his heart, pounding a more fragile rhythm than their own steady beat; his lungs strain a little harder. Looking at Steve, Bucky cocks a silent eyebrow, darts his eyes to Sam and back again. Steve shrugs back, willing to let him make the call.

Suddenly, with practiced precision, they dart around Sam on either side and pull ahead, gaining ground and speed with every stride. With a final cry of “Assholes!” fading behind them, they leave Sam in the dust, stretching out their enhanced legs - wild horses set loose, they gallop in a blinding and furious pace, the bill of Steve’s cap flying up and nearly leaving his head before he grips it and tugs it down tighter against his skull. The trees streak past, glimpses of city lights blurred between, as they top out their speed, dodging bewildered joggers and dog walkers perilously found in their path.

It takes a moment for Steve to recognize the sound, to realize that Bucky is laughing; another moment later, he’s joining in - hardly knowing why and refusing to ask. With a pang, he remembers how often that laugh filled his life, echoed in his home, followed his shuffling footsteps on the sidewalk. It comes with the same underwhelming force as the sunrise, quiet and brilliant and inevitable, streaking joy across the horizon - they are here, they are alive, they found their way home. Steve remembers being 17 and 90 pounds and choking on his first drop of whiskey but still winding up drunk on his own youth, knees knocking Bucky’s where they dangled from the fire escape, feeling as though he could eat the world raw. He could take a bite from it this morning - him and Buck, they could devour it.

It’s useless to try to count the miles when they move this fast; no running app has yet managed to track them accurately, and besides, they could both easily run a marathon with no training. Their runs are mostly for fun - well, Steve finds it fun, the way he finds jumping out of airplanes fun, or leaping over moving cars, or throwing objects he didn’t know he could lift. There’s something about his recklessness being rewarded, through the sheer steel strength of his enhanced body, matched only by the pure-bred stubbornness of his character, that bubbles endorphins in his brain like nothing else.

Almost nothing else.

Up ahead, he notices the back of Sam’s shirt; they’ve lapped the park again, coming up on him from behind. Next to him, Steve watches the swing of a familiar ponytail, half-mesmerized by the way it sways in the sun. Then she’s turning halfway to laugh at something Sam has said, and it’s-

He stumbles over his own toes but recovers before actually falling, Bucky throwing out a hand to steady him at the elbow, and they slow their pace, settling into a jog as they catch up to Sam and his companion.

“You alright, pal?” Bucky asks, chewing his lip as he considers Steve.

“Yeah, fine,” Steve shrugs him off. They’re right behind them now, steps alerting the other two of their presence; she turns, Sam too, to see who’s coming.

Along her forehead, the sweet little baby hairs cling to her skin, wetted down with sweat. Sunlight gleams on her cheekbones, and he wonders if that’s sweat, too. She settles her hands on her hips as she turns towards him, the corner of her mouth lifted in a breathless smile.

“Morning, Cap,” she says, flicking a loose strand of hair back from her face. The weather is beautiful, sun bright and strong, and she’s wearing a red crop top and running shorts, wireless headphones tucked in her ears. Music must be paused though, because he can’t hear anything coming through them.

“Morning,” he smiles back, lifting his cap to sweep a hand through his sweaty hair before settling it back on his head. A faint, self-conscious note sounds in his brain, and he tries to remember if he brushed his teeth this morning before leaving his room.

At his shoulder, Bucky clears his throat conspicuously.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” Bucky sticks out his hand, armed with a boyishly charming smile. “I’m Bucky.”

She shakes his hand, smiling back and offering a name, pretending not to notice Steve’s blink of surprise. Was that - surely she wouldn’t offer her real name? He didn’t even know so much as her favorite color. He zones out of the small talk bouncing between the other three, Sam sharing how they’d joined up on their respective runs, lamenting the way his so-called friends left him behind. All Steve has is a number, that and-

“Would anyone be up for some coffee?” he asks when there’s a break in the conversation.

She lifts one brow, her eyes following his as he looks to his friends.

“Oh, you know I was just thinking the same thing,” Sam nods, rubbing his hands together. “Great minds, Steve.” He taps his temple, the same way Peter does sometimes when the kid is feeling sarcastic. Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Can’t believe you two are what qualifies as great minds these days,” he grumbles, combing an errant hair behind his ear. Sam takes a swing at his shoulder but misses, and they fall in together, walking towards the coffee shop, hardly noticing if the other two are following.

With a little skip, she smiles at Steve and starts after them, his strides a little shorter to match hers. Birds chirp overhead, fading in and out of the hum of the now-busy streets and park lanes. Steve steals furtive glances, trying to decide whether or not she has freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“So.” He starts, then stops himself.

“So?”

He tilts his chin up, repeating the name she’d given to Sam and Bucky.

“Yes?” 14 smirks, tugging up the waistband of her shorts.

“I mean, that isn’t…” he flounders. “It’s not…you, is it? Your real name?”

“Hmm,” she purses her lips, squinting at the men ahead of them. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

**********

He’s in his office, draining the dregs of his americano - blonde shots, a sprinkle of cinnamon - when F.R.I.D.A.Y. pages him.

“Captain Rogers, you’re needed in the briefing room - there’s a situation,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says over the intercom, soft Irish brogue managing to sound coolly concerned. Steve stands from his desk, coffee left behind.

“On my way.”

Another day, another bomb - Avenging is never dull, and why should it be? Sometimes Steve wonders if a strange law of attraction is at work in their violently non-traditional career; if it’s the insanity of every crisis they’re called to answer that has made them what they are - or, as he often suspects, is it actually the reverse?

Tony is at the head of the conference table, flicking through projected images with quick fingers, the rest of the team already seated. No one looks up when he slips into the room.

“If these preliminary scans are accurate, it looks like we’ve got explosives - sophisticated ones, I might add; really, even I’m a little impressed, which as we all know, is a pretty-”

“Tony,” Steve says, taking his own seat at the front of the table. Righteous brow lowering. “Focus.”

Tony makes a face, but impressively withholds whatever comment rises to the tip of his tongue; blowing a harsh sigh past his lips, he goes on with the briefing.

“Right, as I was saying,” he says. “We’ve got some idea of the type of devices we’re dealing with-”

“Devices? Plural?” Nat clarifies. Her pen taps a quick beat against her notepad.

“Yes,” Bruce speaks up, standing a few feet away from Tony, cracking the knuckles of his left hand. “Based on the energy signatures coming from the building, we have three distinct focal points of radiation - so I’d put my money on three devices.”

A beat of silence in the room; gravity pulling harder at their legs and stomachs, the weight of this job, this calling, sits heavy like lead. Clint stretches his arm across the back of 41’s chair. Sam leans forward, elbows on the table, meeting Steve’s eyes for a moment. They carry that weight differently, each one. It takes a moment, a thought, as each of them readjusts it, gets used to it, rolls their shoulders to feel it settle.

And then, they get up.

“Alright - all hands on deck for this one,” Steve nods, eyes circling the table. “We’ll divide into assault, evacuation, and extraction teams. Wheels up in 15.” He looks at Tony once more, now rolling up the sleeves of his well-cut silk shirt.

“Let’s suit up.”

**********

He’s first to the jet, his apartment being closest to the hangar, and he sits in the cockpit going over blueprints for the high-rise business complex they were about to save. A tech conglomerate operates in the upper half of the building, taking nearly half the available square footage; the lower floors are occupied by a couple of smaller companies, start-ups enjoying their first windfall of success. Absentmindedly rubbing his beard, Steve wonders why here, why this target. A personal score to settle, underhanded business deals padding the margins of their accounts? Nothing rings true; even F.R.I.D.A.Y.’S analysis suggested this building was a random target.

Whatever the case, his team is going in there, and he’s not letting them walk in unprepared. So he reads the schematics, twice, three times. Scans Banner’s notes on the radiation readings, what type of bombs they would be dealing with. Mentally, he begins sorting his team into smaller units; he knows 28 has some experience with bombs, Nat, too. They’d pair well for an extraction team, with instructions from Stark and Banner on the jet. Sam and 41 could handle evac, if emergency services hadn’t already emptied the building - probably he’d take Bucky and Wanda in for a strike team; the three of them could handle any lingering thugs who were stupid enough to stick around after planting heavy explosives.

His fingers tap quickly, unconsciously, against his thigh as he hears the team piling into the jet, jostling each other and trading playful insults; pre-mission nerves manifesting in their tight smiles and compulsive weapons-checking - tightening and re-tightening holsters, checking harness straps, dropping to their seats still poised and upright, muscles unwilling to relax. Stalking up the center aisle, Tony joins him in the cockpit. He claps Steve on the shoulder with a (thankfully, unsuited) hand.

“Ready to roll, Cap?” he says, rolling a piece of peppermint from one side of his mouth to the other.

Steve nods, stoic jaw set firm. He watches the control panel of the jet light up under Tony’s hands.

“Born ready.”

“Oh - we got an extra pair of hands, by the way,” Tony comments, nonchalant. He gestures over his shoulder with his chin. “She’s back there - I’m starting to think Fury only recruits beautiful women; wonder what his secret is.”

The comment makes him stop, makes him hope, and then hope not- Steve swivels in his seat and rises, taking a step to look back towards the body of the jet.

She’s smiling at something Clint just said, buckling into her seat on his other side, one down from Agent 41. Once again wearing her white catsuit, hair held back in a sleek braid, 14 pulls down a little on the harness of her seat, making sure it’s well-secured. There’s a beat before she notices, realizes that he’s noticed; she lifts her hand in a little wave when she sees him standing there.

“Hi, Cap,” she says. Her head tilts to one side, braid falling down over one shoulder. “Long time no see.”

Sam’s mouth opens and closes, making a little noise as he looks between the two of them.

“Wait,” he says, holding up a hand. “Wait. Hold up -” He repeats the name she gave them this morning, eyebrows knotting close together. “Am I missing something? Y’all know each other?”

Steve props an arm against the frame of the jet arcing above his head, feeling his cheeks heat under the new scrutiny the team directs his way. His shoulders curl in a little, his other hand reaching for his beard. In the moment, he’s not sure what to say - what to call her, what they are (friends, colleagues, certainly not partners) - and he chews his lip for a long and uncomfortable moment while the others examine his increasingly embarrassed face.

It’s Agent 41 who finally takes pity on him, huffing a sigh around the sour gummy worm hanging from the corner of her mouth.

“There’s a lot of secret agents you haven’t met yet, Sam,” she says. The limp, sugar-coated worm inches its way into her mouth as she works her lips, tucking it into her cheek. “Cause, you know, we’re secret.”

“Boom, roasted.” Clint makes a little mic drop motion with one hand, his other one working its way into the crinkling bag of gummies on 41’s lap.

Sam, attention diverted, scowls at the two of them. Now forgotten, Steve watches as Clint throws tiny pieces of sour worms at Sam’s head, never missing despite his attempts at dodging them. With a soft smile, 14 throws a wink in Steve’s direction.

Shaking his head, he turns back to the cockpit and reaches for his notes, ready to break down the plan.

**********

“Rogers, get the others out of the building.” It’s Nat’s voice, tight and panicked over the com lines.

“Romanoff?” He’s jogging up the stairwell, finger pressed to the device in his ear.

“Now, Steve.” Her characteristic sarcasm, dry and vivid in her husky voice, is gone. This is Nat, and he knows she wouldn’t sound the alarm for no reason.

“Understood.” They’re two floors above him, and he pushes his legs harder, faster. “Sam, Wanda, Tony - get the team out. The rest of the building is empty.” One more flight. “Romanoff, 28, I’m on my way up to you.”

Voices crackle over the line, confirming his orders, the team falling out one by one. Confirmation when they rendezvous on the jet, hovering a safe distance above the the skyline. Steve kicks through the bolted stairwell door and takes two left turns down glass-walled hallways, the map in his head guiding him through the frustrating maze of identical conference rooms and offices, dodging and leaping the sparse and sleek modern furniture crowding an abandoned reception room.

He finds them hunched over the harmless-looking black box, left in an unused cleaning closet - but it’s Agent 14, not 28, with her hands fluttering over an exposed circuit board while Nat looks on, curled white knuckles pressed against her mouth.

“Where’s Agent 28?”

“With the second device, lower half of the building,” 14 mutters, not looking up.

“Status?”

Natasha scowls, but she doesn’t look at him either.

“Not good.”

“The devices are all linked,” 14 says. She licks her lips, using a pair of tweezers to carefully reverse the position of a set of wires connected directly to the battery terminals. “Every time we disarm one, it receives a signal from one of the others that re-arms it.”

Steve watches her concentrate on the circuit board, a few frazzled hairs escaping her braid.

“How much time do we have?” he asks, feeling the muscles in the back of his neck tighten. Natasha finally turns, the grave line of her mouth answering him before she even speaks.

“Minutes - maybe less.” She shakes her head. “Is everyone out?”

“Building’s empty,” Steve confirms, fingers going to the comm device in his ear. “Stark - what’s our blast radius look like? This building’s gonna blow.”

Tony’s voice appears in his ear, only a second later.

“Of course it is,” he says, voice bright and resigned. “How did I not see that one coming?” Over the line, Steve hears a harsh sigh, and then Tony’s voice reappears. “We’re looking at the whole block, Steve, maybe more - emergency services already evacuated the surrounding buildings and they’ve created a perimeter, but we can’t be certain of the damage till they, you know, explode.”

“Any ideas on containment?”

“Gimme a minute,” Tony huffs. “In the meantime, you guys better start hauling ass.”

Steve turns to Nat and 14; they both already have their eyes on him. He nods, quick and commanding, authority drawing up his posture.

“You heard him,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Nat and 14 are already on their feet, and he brings up the rear as they dart out of the room and back the way they came, weaving around towards the stairs and tearing down the staircase at a breakneck pace.

They’re 2 flights from the ground floor when 14 stops, wild-eyed and panting, braid half-loose, and seizes Steve’s arm.

“28,” she says, fingernails digging into the thick fabric of his uniform. “28 never confirmed, is she -?”

Steve tugs her along after Nat, still sprinting down the stairs, and taps his comm device.

“28? Status, 28 - are you out of the building?”

The line stays quiet, heartbeats and harsh breaths in their ears.

“28? Come in, 28.”

Radio silence.

14 stops short, whirling around and away from Steve and back towards the door to the second level - 28’s last known location. Clenching his jaw, he shouts down the stairs to a waiting Natasha, who stands a flight below, tensed to spring back up the stairs after them.

“Natasha - you go, meet the others at the jet and help coordinate evac,” he says, feet already following 14. “We’ll get 28 and rendezvous with the team.”

“But-”

“Go, Nat!”

It takes him 3 seconds to catch up to her, pushing through the door and taking one look at the open floor-plan office before turning right and hustling through the neatly arranged desks towards the utility closet at the other end of the suite.

“She was here the last time she checked in,” 14 breathes, wiping her brow. Two steps ahead of her, Steve wrenches the door open.

The device lays dismantled in the center of the room, mechanical guts exposed to the drafty air - but the closet is otherwise empty, with exception of a few cleaning supplies shoved into a corner. An overturned yellow mop bucket, spray bottles with faded labels, a pair of rubber gloves.

He can hear 14’s heart rate escalate, tapping furiously at her own comm device.

“28 where are you? Come in, 28?” Her voice is thin, breath harsh from their sprint. She licks her lips as she waits for a response. Each second that passes, her eyes flit around the room again, glassy and unfocused, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

A voice that neither of them expects appears in their ears.

“28’s fine,” Bucky says, voice rough but clear. “Signal from the bomb made her line cut out. We’re outside the building, en route to the rendezvous point.”

Their eyes meet and the shared relief washes over them, soothing for the space of a heartbeat - before the device, innocuous and waiting, begins beeping with a menacing frenzy.

Without a word, Steve grips 14’s wrist and makes a mad dash for the other end of the floor. They pass the stairwell door, still swinging open, and head straight for the floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the bright afternoon sunlight outside.

Between 1943 and 1945, the number of burning buildings Steve jumped out of could be conservatively estimated at around a dozen. Bucky would argue for more, but considering the lack of other eyewitnesses, it was really anyone’s guess at this point. Regardless, it’s not the first time he’s found himself trying to outrun the laws of physics, hell quite literally at his heels - his fingers close tighter around 14’s and he glances at her face as he tucks her under one arm.

“Ready?” he breathes. Her eyes are on the window. She licks her lips, opens them to respond.

Then the building blows up.

**********

When he saw the flames blow out the windows, glass tinkling downward in a delicate deadly rain, Tony’s heart remembered the feeling of shrapnel.

“Shit.” He enhances the camera view on the explosion, scanning the surrounding street. “Steve? Come in, Rogers.” Smoke billows up, reaching ever higher towards the skyline. “Rogers? Steve?”

On the ground, Sam turns towards the police perimeter, pushing his way through the rubberneckers and uniforms. Already people are gawking at the scene, cell phones poised to record the disaster, worth at least a few likes and retweets. His feet pick up into a jog and he ducks between the roadblocks, no one even attempting to stop him.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters. The smoke starts to sting his eyes and he lowers his goggles, coughing a little. Even from this distance, still a couple hundred feet, he can feel the greedy heat of the flames, already licking their way up more than half of the enormous high rise. He keeps going until the heat is just too oppressive, the force of it too harsh and blistering; but he stands his ground, squinting through the smoke and ash, one arm pressed to his mouth and nose.

The glint of red is the first thing he sees.

“I’ve got ‘em!” he yells over the line, followed by a harsh coughing fit. “I’ve got eyes on ‘em!”

Shield first, streaked with ash but bright as a beacon, they stagger out of the smoke. Both their faces are covered in soot, 14’s uniform scorched in places, Steve’s blond head turned an ashy gray; her arm is slung around Steve’s shoulder and she leans into him as they limp towards their teammate, their friend. 14 coughs as a harsh wind, stirred by the flames, whips fresh smoke into her face. Steve’s grip around her waist tightens by a fraction, even as Sam approaches, grips his shoulder and hauls him into a rough embrace.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Sam points a finger in his face when he pulls back a moment later. “You’re a goddamn lunatic. Jesus, man.” He babbles in his relief, and they let him, following quietly towards the waiting paramedics, the line of spectators already cheering at the sight of the familiar patriotic uniform. Police and citizens alike crowd against the barricades, hoping for a glimpse of their national hero. Steve lifts the shield in a tired salute, rousing another chorus of excited whoops and cheers.

He feels different eyes on him, and he looks down to find 14, face upturned and sooty, her eyes red from the smoke. Her own fingers slip between his where his hand still rests at her waist, and she squeezes his hand twice. Like a heartbeat. Then her head drops to his shoulder.

Nearing the edge of the perimeter, Steve hears the roar of applause above the ringing in his ears, and tries to feel victorious.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x agent 14 #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers oneshot

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mistflyer1102 · 3 years

Text

Silver Bells (18/25)

Read on AO3 here.

Summary: Wandering about town, doing things M would not approve of.

---------------------

Q sometimes missed doing the little things with Bond.

Today involved just wandering aimlessly through the more touristy areas of London just for the hell of it. Their arms were linked, shoulders bumping gently with each step as they moved past tourists and semi-panicking holiday shoppers. Bond was silent, undoubtedly selecting his next victim for the game the the two had been playing all afternoon. Q meanwhile was keeping an eye out for what he considered to be real trouble, the most threatening of which should have been pickpockets, but one never knew what would happen with James Bond around. Q suspected this was more of a practice really, for Bond, for the company party that was scheduled for tomorrow night.

M was not going to be happy if he ever caught wind of this.

“All right, got him. See the man in the red jacket?” Bond murmured, lowering his head so his mouth was near Q’s ear.

Q glanced over to his right past Bond to see a harried-looking man in a puffy red jacket face red as he yelled into his phone. “The one that looks like he’s traveling to the Arctic instead of London?” he asked, grimacing as the man waved his arms around while still yelling into the phone. Several people near him were forced to duck to avoid getting hit.

“Yeah, him. Late thirties, early forties, works in a financial-based job, either here for work or cavorting with a mistress,” Bond said as he gently steered the two of them away from the enraged man. Q had to fight a smile though as the crowds still buffeted them back to the man anyway. Bond then tilted his head again. “American, from the sound of the accent,” he said, glancing in the man’s direction. “Ten quid.”

Q snorted as he let Bond’s arm go so he could readjust his coat. “Feeling ambitious? You only bet five on the last one,” he said, brow furrowing as he fumbled with the zipper despite gloved hands. It was colder today, then usual for this time of year, and Q wondered that perhaps he should have dug deeper into his closet for a better coat.

“Well, we weren’t close enough to the last one for me to get a good read on the accent,” Bond said as he pulled his scarf off. He draped it around Q, tucking it within Q’s jacket collar before Q could react. “O’Reilly will get mad at me if you get sick on my watch, we both know you don’t plan ahead as well as you like to think you do,” he said before Q could speak.

“And you just recovered from being sick,” Q hissed as they walked past the still-irate American. He started to pull the admittedly still warm-and-nice scarf from his neck.

Bond smirked as he pulled a second, balled-up scarf from a coat pocket. “Planned ahead, I hate dealing with O’Reilly,” he said as he put the scarf on around his own neck. “Now, let’s see how close I was with our friend back there,” he said, producing an unfamiliar leather wallet from his coat sleeve.

Q huffed, unsuccessfully trying to keep the smile off his lips. “Remember, points aren’t awarded until we see how close you were,” he said, glancing over his shoulder back at the man. The man still seemed unaware of the theft, yelling again into his phone as one of his wild gestures nearly connected with a woman standing nearby as she waited for the walk-light. “But you’re still getting ten for lifting the wallet without him noticing,” he conceded as he turned to face forward again.

Bond hummed as he opened the wallet. “Five bonus for lifting his passport too,” he said, tucking the familiar blue passport into an inner coat pocket. “And he’s an American from North Carolina,” he added, and Q looked up at him in time to see Bond holding the driver’s license up for inspection. Then he handed the license to Q, who then used his other hand to pull his mobile out to look the man’s name up on the Internet. “Cute kids…this must be the wife…no mistress that I can tell,” Bond said as he rifled through the bills.

Q meanwhile studied the webpage that had come up first in the search engine. “Not bad, he’s an insurance broker,” he said, handing the license back to Bond, who put it back in the wallet before handing the wallet and passport to Q. Q meanwhile then placed both items into an interior coat pocket so he would remember to drop them off at the nearest police station at the end of the day.

Anonymously, of course. M was going to be furious if he found out that Bond was using an unsuspecting populace for Double-O practice.

“Five points for guessing the nationality, and an extra five for the passport. You can’t confirm the purpose of his trip. But good job otherwise,” Q said, adjusting the scarf around his neck.

He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when he heard Bond mutter, “Hoarding points again?” under his breath as he linked arms with Q again.

#00q #james bond #mistflyer fanfiction #christmas otp challenge

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chessdaze · 4 years

Photo

YEAR TWO OF BEING LATE TO KH OC WEEK!!! but I had the energy today and my internet is out so I can’t work (using my phone’s hotspot rn with my laptop) - might as well be productive. Plus I’ve loved all the stuff @khoc-week has been reblogging from artists and writers alike so I really just wanted to participate even though I said earlier I wasn’t going to this year.

Day 1 (August 2nd): Introductions – Whether you are returning or this is your first time, introduce us to the OC(s) you’ll be focusing on for the week! Show us a picture or a one shot that explains who they are. What do they like? Dislike? Give us the run down!

Last year I talked about Atlas, one of my (many) KHX OCs, this year I’m going to talk about Sid! One of my OCs from one of my original worlds. Him and Atlas are loosely (very loosely) connected, so I thought it would be a good idea.

His real name is Siegfried Jasper Gate - but he insists everyone call him Sid and will not be happy if you say his real name. He started out as my attempt to give KH their own ‘Cid’ character. Yes we have the Cid in Radiant Garden and I love that old man but I wanted one more connected to the overall KH plot. And then it spiraled out of control and I ended up making an entirely new wold so there’s that.

The left design is considered a ‘before’ look and the right ones are his current look. He was exiled from the main hub city of his world (both called Cindergate) with his two best friends (because trios), and end up living in the wild with his friends and a handful of other people who were also exiled from the city. He has a bit of an attitude problem, overall distrusting of strangers and can even be a bit of an ass - but he means well. He pushes himself to his limits to make sure those under his care are safe and sound - he gives up his own resources to those younger than him so they can be a little stronger and healthier, even if he becomes weaker. He’ll complain about anything except about the people around him, because they mean too much to him.

Under the cut is what I’ve written about his world and then a short biography that I’ve had written up for ages. Have fun.

the world trapped in a desert

The Basics

Cindergate is a city that has seemingly seen disasters, parts of the city are being rebuilt and other parts completely abandoned and falling apart. It’s cut off from the vast desert around it by a large, also crumbling, gate. The city has a mix of technology, though seems to shun anything too ‘high tech’.

The city has a population of tough individuals who know how to survive in harsh conditions. Most of the population in this world are human, with occasional animals who can also survive the harsh sun and heat. These people are ruled over by one family - who govern and help make and enforce laws. Because of this the head of the family is often referred to as ‘sheriff’. The family keeps laws strict in the town. There is one law in particular that the sheriff is always eager to punish those for breaking-

The Keyblade Wielder Ban

The people of Cindergate are aware of the keyblade, heartless, the worlds, etc - however they consider Keyblade wielders evil, no matter who they are or what their motivations may be. They believe that the wielders are dragging darkness into the world and are the reason so many heartless live in the desert that surrounds the city. The city has to constantly beat the heartless back, and are the reason why a good portion of the city has been abandoned or is always needing to be rebuilt.

It has been the tradition of the world for a while that if a wielder is found, they are to be branded as a traitor to the city - both metaphorically and literally. After a trial to determine if someone is a wielder or not - they are branded with a mark in the shape of a keyhole. Then they are dragged through the city and out to the gates that surround it. The wielders are then exiled, pushed out to the near lifeless desert. The people of the city will often attack them with weapons or throw objects at them to make sure they don’t try to run back into the city. They consider the wielders ‘sacrifices’ to the heartless to keep them at bay.

At times the heartless in the desert will get the better of the wielders with no training. Those who manage to survive their first day and night have the chance to come across a safehaven made by wielders in the reaches of the desert and on the edges of a canyon.

Landscape.

The city is the mix of a steampunk and wild west setting. There are some technology around the city but it’s big, clunky, and steam or coal powered. The part of the city that has been abandoned has a chance of heartless sneaking in, and so there are people here who patrol at night on occasion but besides that at times kids sneak into the area to play - but it’s strictly forbidden to do so and they will be punished if they do.

The desert surrounding the city is vast and nearly lifeless. Aside from the heartless, there are few plants and animals that live there.

Past the nearly lifeless desert is an area of plateaus and canyons. Within this area those who have been exiled from the city attempt to make a living. They find items that the people of cindergate ‘sacrifice’ to the heartless, (pieces of machinery, cloth, food, etc) and try to repurpose it for their own needs. There’s a bit more life in this area, but not much in terms of subsistence.

The Survivors

The wielders and those who were exiled with them (family members who hid them, other accomplices, and even people who were falsely convicted of being a wielder) have been managing to survive so far, though it’s a constant struggle. They’ve made houses out of spare pieces of wood, tarp, scrap metal, and hide themselves in as much shade as they possibly can.

Some practice with their keyblades in order to get a handle on their abilities and fight off heartless that come near the safe haven. Others completely shun the fact that they can use a keyblade and refuse to wield it. Those who are not wielders try to contribute by making food or volunteering for other odd jobs. There are also wielders dedicated to finding a way off world.

AND NOW THAT THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY -

Sid’s about:

Born to the ruling family of Cindergate, Sid had everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he hated it. He couldn’t wrap his head around the strict rules of the town or the terrible court system. Any time he would try to speak up on this though was met with punishment from his parents. So he decided to bide his time, becoming their perfect ‘puppet’ so that he could become the leader one day and change things for the better.

While still considered a bit of a rebel, his parents at least ‘admired his change of heart’ and let him walk around Cindergate freely. While growing up he made two friends - a girl name Mari and a boy named Helio. The three of them were practically inseparable, they were some of the only ones that didn’t care who Sid was related to. He could be himself around them, and so he vowed to keep them safe most out of everyone in the town.

Mari revealed to the boys one day that she was a keyblade wielder - which was a terrible discovery. Keyblade Wielders were banned from Cindergate and it she was found to be a wielder she would be arrested, branded, and exiled to the harsh desert that surrounded the town. The desert that was filled with heartless. At the same time Helio revealed himself to be a wielder as well - having been one of the longest out of all of them, since he was a child. He knew better than anyone what would happen to wielders who got caught as his mother had been cast out when he was a child. Sid promised that he wouldn’t let them get caught and that he would lift the ban, they just needed to keep their keyblades hidden until he became the leader of the town.

This was easier said than done, especially since Sid would come to be a wielder as well. An old friend of his family invited Sid to his deathbed. This old man revealed how close Sid’s father and him used to be, and how they had a dream to make Cindergate a thriving place. But Sid’s father had done nothing more than oppress the people and make the ban more strict than it needed to be. So the old man had a solution - to pass on the power of the keyblade to Sid. He had kept it hidden all of his life, hoping that one day Sid’s father would change his mind on the ban - but he never did. In his last moments he forced Sid to take the power of the keyblade from him, saying it was Sid’s responsibility now, before passing.

Sid was terrified and furious with the power he had been given. Yes, he had been wanting to make CinderGate a better place for wielders and non wielders alike but - he didn’t want it to be like this. Still, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. He told his friends of his new found gift and worked to become even more like the 'perfect’ leader his parents wanted him to be, just so he could take over quicker and get the stupid ban taken down.

Not long after this, Helio and Mari were caught for being keyblade wielders. Sid stood up to his parents to try and get them to see reason. When they still wouldn’t listen he revealed himself as a wielder in front of the whole town - saying if they were going to throw out his friends they would have to throw out him as well.

And they did, but not before branding him as a traitor - literally. They burned the keyhole shaped brand onto the side of his face before exiling him,Helio, and Mari out of the town. The three ran until they couldn’t anymore, fought off heartless, then collapsed with laughter - surprised but grateful they were still alive.

A while longer of traveling lead them to a survivor camp. Other people like them who had been exiled from Cindergate. It wasn’t much, but it became home for the three wielders. Sid took it upon himself to improve the day to day lives of the survivors by building various machines and other contraptions to make life easier for them.But still, it wasn’t enough. Thanks to his parents hoard of keyblade wielder knowledge (because how else were they supposed to fight off such a 'threat’ without an entire library full of knowledge?), he knew of other worlds and he knew that the keyblade could get them there. He just wasn’t sure how to unlock the power. None of the survivors were masters by any means, some of them didn’t even have a keyblade - and were friends or family of wielders exiled or falsely accused and wanted nothing to do with the keyblade.

Sid, taking another burden onto his shoulders, did the only thing he could think he could accomplish - he made himself and his two friends keyblade armor. He hoped that with the armor they could brave the passages in between worlds and find a way to get all the survivors to a new home.

Images of where sid’s scar is, he uses the braids to cover it up as best he can.

#khoc week #khocweek2020 #kingdom hearts oc #original character #kingdom hearts original character #kingdom hearts original world #kh original world #my art #Siegfried Jasper Gate

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sirene312 · 4 years

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oh GOD guys…. You have no idea the crusade i had to went through just to be sitting here, with my dear computer working again, and enjoying the joy of 1.9 Mbps internet connection speed. First thing on the front page of my dash was three shitposts on a row, new niche memes, and good ‘ol fandom drama. god how I missed this hell site.

In case anyone wants to know what happened, I will put behind a ‘read more’ the story of a missing computer part that quickly become a detective mission, that dragged me unwillingly into the wild ride I didn’t signed for when pressing ‘buy’ on an online store.

TL;DR at the end bc this is very long. English is not my first language so please bear with me!

Okay, some of you may know a bit about me since apparently i don’t have a “dude shut up! Stop oversharing your woes!!!” button on me but hey here are some things to know about me in case you are curious: I live in Venezuela and not having internet is my personality trait, living in my country is very hard, hard like trying to play the Rainbow Road of Mario Kart but you have butter on your hands, your eyes are closed and you are running on the rain while there is a 8.0 earthquake happening. That hard. I work as a freelance graphic designer and make art commissions so me and my family can survive the economic crisis on my country, having internet and a working computer is a really big deal, like literally we eat thanks to it. Now you see how that would led me to spend a whole month chasing and stressing over a stupid part my computer needed.

Back in December, remember last season of “what’s troubling Sirene now?” where i spend almost a month without internet and then yay internet is back! for like two days? well, after Christmas there was a sudden power cut one night and i was on my computer working on a commission but since this is now a common occurrence i didn't think anything of it …until next day when i tried to switch my computer ON it didn't. I tried everything to revive it, grabbing anxiously my hair, walking on circles, and pressing continuously the power button, you know everything, but it was in vain. It’s dead, Jim. As you can imagine i had a breakdown when i realized i won’t be able to work anymore and needed to buy a new power supply since this one was toast…and was without internet friggin again. AGAIN. I survived till now using my crappy phone data but heavy apps hardly load, tumblr/ao3/twitter sometimes loaded if i refreshed them like a madman.

My computer is a tiny model and has a power supply that apparently is made by beavers in Narnia, because is so uncommon that the only stores that sell them are on my Capital city two states away from where i live. Knowing this, there is not other alternative for me but to use a online store and shipping the package here, in theory sounds simple right? a reminder that this is a third world country, where everything is falling apart and barely holding it together with chewing gum and prayers, what are the odds of something going wrong hmm….

Okay, this happened in the week after Christmas and before New Year's Eve, so of course all stores in my country decided to go on vacation and return on January. I impatiently waited for two online stores to be back on business that have the power supply i need, they were physical stores too so i thought i would be safe. i liked one more than the other and, as i told my friends, i felt like a telenovela protagonist that was on a love triangle with two galanes but the hotter one was in coma and the other just had 3 episodes in, meaning that the better rated store was still offline and the other was online but only had like 3 products sold …not very reassuring but i desperately needed to start working again so i went with that one. Big mistake.

Everything started on Tuesday, January 14.

Mercado Libre is a page where people sell things like Amazon, this is where the seller of the power supply was, after you click on buy, you can see the seller info and a chat to talk to them, i wrote but there was not immediate response so i called, i spoke to a woman and she told me to text her on WhatsApp, that should have been my first red flag, if the app had a perfect chat option there why text outside of it??

whatever, i went and text her, asked when would she send the package and she told me “tomorrow” the shipping company she was going to use is called “Zoom” (remember that name bc it will be mentioned a lot) when you send something they give the sender (the store) a tracking number the sender should give YOU in order for the shipping office (Zoom) in your city to give you the package. (this number is important)

this was my first time buying anything online so i didn’t know any of that just vaguely knew how it worked, so i asked her if she the next day would give me the tracking number or the shipping company would call me when my package was on the shipping center? and she told me “both, i will give you the number and they are going to call you” I said perfect, thank you very much and thought ‘hey that went well!’

Unknown to me, for the next 10 days i was going suffer a weird and painful skin reaction on both hands, and man…it was bad (tw graphic description of a skin condition ahead) the skin on the palm of my hands completely fell off, and it burned like i had scraped my hands on the sidewalk and someone was pouring lemon juice on them. Ouch. as you can imagine all my attention was on what was going on with my hands. I still don’t know what could have caused that severe reaction.

With difficulty texted the woman on Monday 20 i asked again for the tracking number but she said “i’m waiting for the bike delivery guy to give me the number but your package was sent” so she -the store seller- dont go personally to Zoom to send the packages and some else does, i tell the woman again to give me the number as soon as she has it, bc Zoom has an app you can check your package rute and status with that number, she said “okey amiga”.

That week, i could barely lift a fork i was suffering from whatever it was that happened to my hands until my mom found an Aloe Vera plant and i started to rub that gooey, viscose gel thingy on my hands and was slowly getting better, (seriously guys, Aloe Vera plants are a godsend keep one or 10 at home) by the time i suddenly remembered about the package it was Friday 24 the woman didn’t text me anything like she said would do and i didn’t receive any calls either all week, so friday i text her asking again for the tracking number and oh yes finally she has it! My happiness was short lived because……THE PACKAGE WAS RETURNED.

Something occurred and there was an error on the address or something (I triple checked all my personal info was in order before i gave it to her -thanks anxiety!- so i know it was not on me) i was so furious if only the woman had given me the friggin number sooner that week, i would have realized there was something wrong and would have gone to the Zoom on my city where the package was being held before it was returned to the capital. She told me she would send again my package that Friday BUT Zoom only works mon-fri not weekends. Now I need to wait till monday to receive my thing. great.

Monday 27 rolls in and that week i proceeded to text the woman EVERY SINGLE DAY asking if she had sent my package, i hated being a nuisance texting so much but it was necessary, money is getting short and we need food.

On Wed 29 I even texted her a desperate plea, i told her please i need my power supply to start working again! and you know how she responded? BY LEAVING ME ON SEEN. i called her until she answered and she told me “oh i sent it today” she assured me, in the most unsure voice she could muster, that she totally did it.

So I went the next day to the Zoom office and surprise! it was a lie, she didn’t send anything, nada! again asked her for the new track.num. and she told me “amiga the thing is that …the package has not arrived here. is still in your State.“ [*record scratch*] hmm whAT?

I immediately called Zoom and asked them to tell me where my package is? Where is it!?, it’s still in my city or in the Capital?? So they gave me a number for the returned package to check on the app and…said it arrived at the Capital Fri. 24. Not only that but it was marked as "given to the client” aka the sender.

Now I realize this woman has been lying to me. For a whole week. I text her screenshots of where the package was and she tells me that supposedly the package is not on Zoom there and insists it is here in my State. A friend knows someone that works on Zoom that checks their database and confirms that no, is not here anywhere and that definitely arrived in the Capital. even shows that a man named A. Rodriguez was the one that picked up the package. Who is this man?? what's going on?

here's a meme i sent my friends in the group chat while i was trying not to freak out about all this.

This has become a "she-said, he-said" situation because the woman keeps insisting Zoom is the one at fault about the whereabouts of my missing package but Zoom says Hold it! And slaps continuous evidence that shows the places where the package has been at all times.

Meanwhile I’m like “where the hell is my power supply??? All I want is to work. Why is this happening to me?” ;_;

So far what we know:

Package arrived in my city but was returned to the city of origin (the Capital) on Friday 24.

The following week the store seller lied to me and would everyday promise to send the package again to me. and never did.

On Thursday 30 the woman tells me that the package never arrived from my city and she’s waiting for it to “arrive” but the shipping office tells me the package was returned a week ago on Fri. 24 so it’s impossible that it has not arrived. not for nothing they are called ZOOM they deliver fast.

the app even says “given to the client”, and one thing I know for a fact, is that it is near impossible to pick up a package from there without the friggin tracking number, they won’t even give you info about it without it. so it’s very unlikely that a random person just walked away with it.

so we have two possibilities:

1. Someone from Zoom stole it. Ok, feasible. Corrupt people working on this kind of service in my country steal things of value all the time. still i doubt this was the case, the company seemed really concerned and would try their best to help me find my package giving me all the info i requested, even the name of the person who took it.

2. the store seller lied again and the man who took the package is the same bike delivery guy that transported it there in the first place. That's how they were able to take it from there so easily. She denied knowing anyone named A. Rodriguez but she has lied before so i don’t trust her word. To me, this is the more likely scenario for what happened to the package.

February comes and still I have no idea where is my package and the woman keeps making excuses as to why she “hasn’t found it” she again leaves me on seen after I asked for information, next day I called her non stop because now I’m pissed and i want answers, she finally text me that she will send another power supply since she “couldn’t find the first one” no further explanation whatsoever, and tells me will send it on Friday, but remember that Zoom don’t work on weekends so the new package will be staying on the Zoom office until Monday, my friend tells me that is not good what if the thief works there and steals it again? so I asked the woman to send it on Monday and she tells me that only Tuesdays they send all their stuff to be delivered….now she tells me the store have a specific delivery day? Now?

I’m not happy about waiting for more days but there is nothing i can do about it so February 11 is here and I send the woman a text telling her to take a photo of the receipt with the tracking number so the story of the first package won’t repeat, and guess what? The woman left me on seen!! you don’t know how that blue seen mark got me shook. that stressed me so bad that finally I had enough, my friends encouraged me to cancel the order and ask for a refund, I stopped texting her on WhatsApp and left a ultimatum on the Mercado Libre chat, that way I had proof on that page of the fraud this woman was pulling on me and could get her banned there. I should have done that before but the need to repair my computer blinded me and was what kept me trying so hard to get my power supply. Desperation can drive you to make foolish decisions.

After my ultimatum, the woman changed her tune and was very solicitous, and replied super fast, even said on the chat “let it be noted we are a serious company and always answered all your messages” yes, she said THAT, can you believe the audacity, the nerve? I immediately reply “since you didn’t answer any of my texts yesterday, can’t fault me for expressing here my concern about my purchase.” Then I said very politely but with finality that if she did not send me the photo of the receipt with the tracking number the next day I would not hesitate bitch to ask for a refund. And what do you know? Worked like a charm. The next day the first thing in the morning on my phone was a photo of the receipt.

SO yes this unnecessary long story has an anticlimactic but happy end after all! Next morning I happily went to the Zoom office and after a whole month of countless lies, unanswered texts, blood, sweat, and tears, I picked up mypower supply. Reunited at long last! This happened on February 14. Valentine’s Day. Love -and being persistent af- always wins!

TL;DR I bought online a new power supply, the seller tried to scam me or something bc lied about how my purchase was “lost” saying the shipping company was the culprit. Sending me on a wild goose chase trying to find my package. i had to threaten her with a refund to get her to send me finally my power supply.

#this is why i disappeared for a while #can't believe this drama lasted for a whole month #but im glad its finally over

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thekrazykeke · 4 years

Text

You’re Perfect

Fandom(s): Attack on Titan, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Batman: the Animated series, Bleach, Black Butler, DragonFable, Dragon Ball Z, Fruits Basket, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hellsing, John Wick, Naruto, Ouran Highschool, Persona 5, SkipBeat!, Suicide Squad, Telltale the Walking Dead, Tokyo Ghoul, Vampire Knight, and more!

Relationship(s): TBD.

Rating: K+ through MA.

Summary: What would you do if had the ability to ignore the boundary between reality and fiction? To be with your ideal person who only exists in anime, manga, movies, and games, etc.? With the power to go wherever you want to, would you stay in a fantastical world or return to reality?

Warning(s): Will be tagged appropriately per chapter and fandom, etc. etc.

Taglist: Click here to be added.

Tagging: @misspooh @ginghampearlsnsweettea @naomithenerdgirl @wojtud-widvut-fecret @indigorose049 @queenofhearts579 @fallinoutoforbit @ashthebootyholetickler @one-twisted-bee @stichpatched

Those with the strikethrough in their name, I’ll be sending the link through to your DMs, so please leave it open. I’d like to say that the listed fandoms is a cursory overview, and is prone to change. If you have something you’d like me to write about, a fandom and anime you want me to watch, don’t hesitate to tell me. I intend this to be a long running thing for all of us nerds to enjoy together. With that said, this is only the prologue and I hope to improve the chapter length and such from here onwards.

Stay so stay tuned, hit that like button, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer. Ciao~

Prologue

A Normal Day Turned...?

December 11, 20XX RealityLux, Inc. 5:36 P.M.

It never stopped being so jarring.

Being outside, or even, just surrounded by people, no, by strangers, all hustling and bustling, either on their way to some type of appointment, or work, or a friend/family member’s house, or, or something... Everyone always seemed to have a set destination in mind, and they were determined to get there.

Sometimes you found yourself unwillingly swept up in the crowd, with the vibe, the urge, to actually go along with the flow, curious to see where that feeling would take you.

The outcome for occasionally submitting to these whimsical flights of fancy led to awesome destinations, such as a brand new internet cafe that you’d never heard of but quickly fell in love with because of the decor and ambiance, or the park that boasted some of the best up-and-coming local urban artists, and even the black owned businesses which sold your prefered clothing style at a reasonable price.

During days like those, it felt as if you truly had the best of luck.

Well, honestly, the past several years felt like that.

Unluckily for you, you’d grown up into and been around long enough to witness the travesty and endless tragedies that plagued this crooked nation due to warmonger presidents like Bush. Cried with overwhelming joy when President Obama was elected, and cried again when his final term ended.

You’d wept furious tears over the fact that Hilary had not been elected, even though she was really just more of the same, and could not sleep peacefully during the four years that President Orange was in the White House. You’d lived through terror and injustice and bigotry. Or, well, correction, people stopped pretending to care whether or not they were labeled as racists and Neo Nazis. You learned to keep your head down even more during that time, to watch out for people not just at night time, but also during the day.

America has always been a terrible country instilled with hypocrites to the extreme but those four years had aged you well beyond your years. After Trump’s impeachment, although his Vice President tried to step up to the plate, it would seem that a higher power decided to have mercy.

Michelle Obama decided to run for President, and she won.

During her time in the White House, many things, both gradually and quickly, came to pass. Things that were long overdue, such as the rich and elitist members of society paying more on taxes, minimum wage being increased, pedophiles and rapists getting the maximum sentences, college tuition was lowered to an affordable price or free altogether, increased salary for women, etc. There just isn’t any possible way that Michelle would be able to undo the ugliness and rot that infected America for so many years. You still hated this country, but with her in charge, you learned to hate it just a little less.

Pop!

With a blink, you found yourself smiling on autopilot. Two of your coworkers, Jessica and Kate, were laughing and giggling as they poured themselves some bubbly champagne before going around the room.

“Aaaand youuu,” The bubbles are floating to the top, the scent of the champagne wafting upwards to your nose, “Get the rest because you clinched that deal with Bandai.” Kate praised, flashing her bleached white toothed smile in your direction. “Go, [Your Last Name]! Woo!”

“Ohh, we’re cheering now! Woo-wooo!!” Jessica joined in, raising her free hand in an enthusiastic wave.

Raising the glass in a faint salute, “Mm, c’mon, guys.” You took a sip of your drink. “This was a team effort.” Actually it wasn’t, but it sounded better to say it that way.

“Don’t be so modest, [Your Last Name].” One of the few random guys at the party piped up. “C’mon, give us a speech!”

Before you knew it, several more people had took up the call.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Closing your eyes briefly, you inhale and then exhale. Raising your glass, you smiled a bit wider, and waited until they settled down. “It’s been an honor to work with you all for so many years. I hope to be working with you for many more years to come.Thank you.”

Short, sweet and to the point.

It gained a few good natured groans and people wanting to hear more, but they were quickly distracted by the caterers who brought in food and more wine and champagne. That was the perfect opportunity for you to sneak off, claiming that you were going to use the bathroom, placing the flute of half drunk alcohol on the nearest table while on the way out the door.

As soon as you were in the hallway, away from your colleagues, the (fake) smile that’s been plastered on your face all day fell off. You walked as quickly as possible with the four inch heels you’re wearing, reaching a flight of stairs and held onto the railing as hustled down them.

There’s a smile is on your face again as you take that last step, and this time, it’s genuine, because of the man holding his hand out to you so gallantly. You took his hand with a little laugh, accepting the small bouquet that he offered with his free hand.

“Cinderella rushing off from her ball before it’s even midnight. Classic, I love it.” He winked. You rolled your eyes and whacked him on the arm lightly. “Oh! Ow.” Feigning injury, he clutched at the ‘hurting’ part. “Violent. I guess you’re not Cinderella but that kick ass girl from Ella Enchanted.”

“Shut up. You’re so ridiculous, Mr. Hunt.” Shaking your head, you pretended to be upset, looking away with a huff. Only to really huff with annoyance when your ear is flicked. “Eli, stop~”

“That’s right, you better call me by my first name. ‘Mr. Hunt’ is my father, as you well know, little girl.” Eli grabbed you by both your hands, tugging you ever closer.

And closer.

Close enough that you catch a whiff of his cologne that he’s wearing and it smells expensive, woodsy.

Perfect.

“Eli, you found her!”

The moment is broken.

You jerked your hands free and smile automatically as another woman came running up to you and Eli, holding onto a wrapped, square box. “Kymbrea, hey!” You open your arms and laugh slightly as she handed off the package to Eli before wrapping her arms around you in a hug. After a few minutes, you patted her on the back to signal her to let go and she did, accepting the package back again, before holding it out to you.

“Congrats on getting that deal with Bandai. Knew you could do it. So proud of you, best friend!” Kymbrea happily proclaimed. “C’mon, open it, open it, open it.” With a needling voice, she gently cajoled you.

“Kym, hey, baby, that’s enough.” With a slight laugh, Eli tugged her out of your space. A pang went through your heart and the smile on your face felt a little brittle. Neither of them seemed to notice, thank god. “I’ll take this wild woman off your hands.” As he glanced at you, smiling as if nothing was amiss, as if he hadn’t been... Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Maybe it’s all in your head? With an awkward nod and smile, that he accepted without issue, he wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her up the stairs, “We’ll see you later, [Your Name].”

You watched them go upstairs for a minute or two, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed and dismissed. Swallowing the lump in your throat, hands still full with the gifts, you instead push those unnecessary feelings to the side.

Walking out the lobby to the front entrance, where the valet already has your car pulled up and ready for you, key dangling from his hand. You ignore his curious, slightly concerned stare, tossing the bouquet inside and on the backseat, the wrapped package getting only slightly better treatment.

Snagging the car key, you hand him a tip and then go around to the driver’s side, climbed in and then closed the door after you. Adjusting the heat in the car and the mirrors, you put the key in the ignition, made sure no one was behind you before taking off.

The further and further away you get from the rented out hotel, the less the feeling in your chest aches. It’s something you don’t take much stock in, you can’t afford to. For awhile, you drive around, only to eventually come to your favorite market.

It was getting dark, so you decided to do a quick in ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself’ and out run. So chocolate, poptarts, bottles of Lipton tea, the usual. All in all, less than fifteen minutes and then you were driving to your apartment. Seeing it from a distance still took your breath away.

You’d done this, this was your life, after all this time, you’d achieved that which seemed unachievable.

Living at the top, finally. It didn’t matter that it felt a little like a hollow victory.

After having a small conversation with the doorman, politely declining his help with your groceries and the two gifts you’d received. Your neighbor, some white guy you didn’t know the name of, didn’t allow you to refuse, citing reasons for why it wouldn’t be decent to let you suffer this alone, and eventually you agreed if only to get to him to stop; together, you and he caught the elevator for the top floor where your apartment is. Letting yourself in first, you told him thanks for the help, and he smiled, lingering. You handed him whatever was left in your wallet, a generous amount and still he lingered. It was starting to be uncomfortable so you slammed the door in his face, locking it shut quickly. quickly kicking off your heels and slipping on your flip flops.

Tossing the flowers into the trash, you began to put away most of the groceries, leaving only a couple boxes of poptarts and a case of tea out. The sound of running water is loud in the apartment, but familiar. Cleaning out a mug, you pour the bottled tea inside, along with a few ice cubes, grabbing the matching saucer.

Walking into the living room, you turned on the TV, placing the mug of tea on the coffee table side the couch. Reaching into your back pocket of your pants, you pull out your cell phone, also putting it on the coffee table after putting it on ‘read’.

Much more comfortable.

Sitting on the couch with your feet tucked neatly in criss-cross applesauce style, leaning back against the pillow, you grabbed the PS4 controller, pressing the power button and quickly choosing the game that you’d digitally downloaded. Thankfully, it’s fully downloaded and updated, ready to play.

For hours, you lose yourself in the combat, grunting with dissatisfaction when your on screen character is overwhelmed, or cheering with triumph when you finally beat a mini boss or passed a quest.

Only once your fingers started to cramp and you couldn’t ignore the urge to drink the tea, did you press pause. Sipping at your tea, you flexed your fingers, pressing the button on your cellphone and it lit up, showing off your message from Kymbrea which read simply ‘U play it yet?’ and inadvertently, you gaze drifted to the package sitting by your front door, which you’d dropped carelessly.

Feeling guilty, you huff out a sigh.

Getting up again, lightly tossing the controller back onto the couch, you walk over the package, picking it up and returning to your original spot. Carefully peeling off the wrapper, you reveal a totally pitch black box except for the bright red logo XR on it.

Raising an eyebrow, you opened the box and pull out a VR headset, a tiny controller, and instructions. Shaking the box, wondering if that’s it, out fluttered a piece of paper in pretty, delicate cursive, ‘I’ve already uploaded everything I knew you’d like. Happy early Christmas! xo, K.’

Shrugging, you sighed and completely decided to let what happened earlier go. Kymbrea had done nothing wrong, she is your best friend. If anything, you’re the problem. With that little (depressing) pep talk finished, you fired off a text, telling her thanks and that you were checking out her gift now. Once that’s finished, you set up the VR headset, all the cables and cords, and then put the headset on after making sure everything is up to date.

After some labels and companies that you didn’t know about and you assumed were associated with the game popped up in front of your vision, after that, that’s when things got a bit weird. There’s a black woman, who looks terribly, terribly familiar, walking straight towards you. Before she gets too close, she stops and tilts her head in that same weird mannerism that you know, but--

/Welcome to HTC Vive, the virtual reality which caters to all your needs. Before we can move on to the first chapter of the game, we’ll have to go through the registration to make sure everything is in order. Is that okay?/

Resisting the urge to groan out loud by Kymbrea’s utter cheesiness, yet also grudgingly appreciating the gesture, you decide to fight through the embarrassment because the AI looks so familiar to you because she was created, designed, whatever the term, to look exactly like you.

Once you finish up registration, verifying that yes, you’re over 18, and yes, you’re over 21, you don’t mind violence or gore, you know to take breaks and be careful of flashing lights, etc.

/So, the initial set up is complete. Some chapters will be better established with voice recognition, but can be played without. Do you wish to install this software?/

Literally going to kill Kymbrea, just shove a pillow over her face and smother her to death. Unwittingly, you groaned in sheer torture, before saying yes, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment.

/Understood. Voice recognition approved./

The AI’s voice changed to suit yours and whoa, that was kind of freaky but also pretty awesome?

Whatever, you’d think seriously about it later.

/We’re about to start your journey. Please make sure that you’ve done everything you needed to do beforehand because this chapter will be shorter or longer to suit your needs./

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, come on. Once you answered the last minute questions, such as what you wanted to be called, your preference for your partners (male/female or otherwise), and other 18+ questions that you refused to admit got you hot under the collar, as soon as you hit the ‘Accept’ button, that’s when things really, truly honestly got weird.

Technicolors burst across your vision. The AI lady took steps towards you and she wasn’t stopping. You were freaked the fuck out something terrible, cussing up a storm and as you reached up, about to pull the headset off, figuring this had to be some kind of mcfucking joke or jumpscare or something, and then her hand is touching yours and that shouldn’t be possible at all.You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, or you don’t think it does?

You hear static and your vision turns black.

»»————-　　————-««

Stay tuned for the next update of You’re Perfect! You wake up in the bed of........?

#fic #miscellaneous #fics #black reader #awkward reader #misc fics #multifandom #black gamer #multifandom fic #thekrazykeke

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sunsetviolets · 4 years

Text

I swear I’m living the plot of a bad conspiracy movie.

I am beyond words. There is no justice for us.

We all knew that the summer of COVID would require adaptation. Well, everyone except my state’s Bar examiners. They insisted that we would hold a traditional in-person exam on the same annual July date. In the face of fear for our lives, the Bar shrugged their shoulders and said temperature checks, masks, and 6 feet distancing would make it safe for thousands of people to be indoors together in the same space for hours. They maintained this position as we studied full-time every day for weeks.

Then, with 3 weeks til the planned test day, a miracle! We were going to be spared from an in person exam, we would only have to take our state’s portion of the test (about half the content of a typical exam) and it would all be done in one day online at a later date. We needed to take more time in this hell, but keep trucking lads! We could still make it through.

And this is where it gets wild: the Bar Examiners hired one of three software vendors on the market. Our state wasn’t the only one to choose this product. But something strange started happening: one by one each state working with this vendor dropped the product because it “couldn’t meet requirements.” All these states were smaller than ours. What was happening? Why was this software failing?

We would soon find out. Examinees in my state reported the software overheated their computers until they couldn’t type or the machine shut down. Some pages wouldn’t load. Some computers remained locked or webcams stayed on after closing the app. Lots experienced lag on the software. Weirdest was one who reported being able to hear a stranger’s voice through their speakers that they couldn’t account for. But the worst part were the people able to access their notes/listen to lectures despite the fact that their computers should have been locked.

And then the kicker: many of us experienced data breaches after downloading the software. Bank accounts accessed, online shopping passwords changed, phishing emails, spam calls, all compromised.

We told the Bar. They stubbornly insisted only “nine″ complaints were registered despite hundreds of people voicing complaints all over the internet and emailing both vendor and board. This is when we began to realize: the board wasn’t simply stubborn. We were being gaslit.

Then it got scarier for us. Someone realized the EVP of the software vendor used to serve on our board of Bar Examiners. Worse, he had served on another state’s board of Bar Examiners before becoming head of this software company. And in that other state a couple of years ago, an ethics complaint was brought against this man for...making backhand deals on behalf of his new software company with this former employer: the board of Bar Examiners. The complaint was dismissed...for lack of jurisdiction. Not because it didn’t happen.

Now we were scared, but some of us tried to tell ourselves that we were living in tinfoil hat land. Surely this kind of stubborn corruption, with thousands of futures on the line, could not stand? Surely the highest court in the state would step in and stop it.

No. Despite all the evidence we laid at their feet, the court turned away from us, refusing to intervene and “relying on the board’s recommendation.” We were on our own.

In the meantime, the board told us “an independent cyber security company” was investigating the security breach claims. “Which one?” We asked. They refused to tell us. This mysterious company came back with a report that there was no malware (we never said there was, just that there were bugs and vulnerabilities) and placed the blame on us for practicing “bad cyber hygiene” (an appalling and condescending phrase I hope to never hear again). They further promised an updated version of the software, with bugs fixed, was coming.

The new download arrived...and it was old software. The same version a smaller jurisdiction rejected not a week prior. Furious, students began posting videos online evidencing the software’s inconsistency and failures.

Incredibly, the CEO of the software vendor reached out personally to these examinees and attempted to bully them into taking down the evidence. He pointed the finger of blame at the Bar Examiners while the Bar Examiners pointed the finger right back. In the end, egregiously, the CEO of the software company accused examinees of breaking his precious software and lamented how it was such a shame that some students were creating opportunities for people to cheat!

As if any of this weren’t bad enough, with three days before the exam, at 10:45pm on a SUNDAY, the Board of Bar Examiners dropped the final blow: the exam was cancelled altogether. Details would be forthcoming as to a new exam in OCTOBER.

It is a farce. A story of corruption up to the highest court in our state. They have sacrificed our livelihoods, our mental and physical health, and our futures for the sake of a shady deal with a shadier organization.

I may never become a lawyer after this, not only because they will not let me but because I have lost my faith in justice.

The only good news is that now we all have nothing better to do than to officially put ourselves on the docket and file the inevitable lawsuit. We may lose again, but we will have our day.

“You better lawyer up, asshole. Because I’m...coming for EVERYTHING.”

#personal #I would never believe it if I didn't live it #barpocalypse

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inyournightmares97 · 6 years

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GOT7 AS: Managers in a Company

Just a few thoughts about what GOT7 would be like if they were managers/Head of Department in a company. Totally inspired by the fact that I’ve been watching the kdrama Chief Kim lately and corporate politics fascinates me.

Mark

Mr. Tuan is the head of the IT Department.

He works with computers and is the acknowledged technological genius of the company. It takes Mark Tuan exactly two minutes to scan a software and he can suddenly use it as though he designed it himself.

At the insistence of the employees from other departments, he regularly conducts tutorials and FAQ sessions to help employees better utilize the office software but nobody ever attends those. Instead, they just summon the IT Department to their desks whenever they can’t figure out something.

It makes Mark furious.

Sometimes there isn’t even any problem with the software. It’s just the female employees who have nothing better to do and want the chance to flirt with the cute guy from IT.

He was even slipped a man’s number once.

Mark finally ended up going to the CEO and making his tutorial sessions mandatory for all employees, So now on the first Tuesday of every month, all the employees have to gather in the auditorium for an hour and listen to Mr. Tuan give a lecture on the latest updates to the office Intranet and explain how to use the software.

He knows it’s a waste of his time since people will keep calling the IT Department for help anyway, but Mark figures the least he can do is waste some of their time in exchange. It gives him a small sense of achievement to look at all their bored and miserable faces.

Mark is a silent genius when it comes to IT, but his managerial skills are... non-existent.

The IT Department essentially does whatever they feel like because Mark has never scolded his employees or even told them to get back to work.

His only strategy is non-interference. He doesn’t care if the employees are playing games during office hours (he often does so himself, with the door to his office locked and his secretary warned to send all visitors away) and even if he catches them in the act he never says a word.

But the employees know better than to completely neglect their work, because if they do, somebody from another department might file a complaint about them and that complaint would get forwarded to Mr. Tuan.

Complaints = Paperwork

There is nothing Mr. Tuan hates more than paperwork. The only time his smiling and handsome face turns dangerous is when somebody comes up to him with paperwork. He would rather install the intranet software into a hundred office computers than file a single report.

Mark doesn’t even remember the names of all the people who work underneath him in the department. So during performance reviews, everyone just gets a good/decent review because who knows how much work is being done by each employee? Certainly not Mark Tuan. He couldn’t care less.

Mr. Tuan has never worked a minute of overtime in his life.

He leaves the office at 5 pm sharp, every single day and he does not come in on weekends under any circumstances. I’m sorry, the company is about to fall to pieces and you need someone to fix the software? Sure, remind me first thing on Monday morning.

Orders pizza and coke for the entire Department whenever it’s somebody’s birthday (his secretary slides him a note to remind him whenever that is the case).

He’s a little absent-minded and clueless at times, but the entire IT department agrees that they pretty much lucked out getting Mark Tuan as a manager. They wouldn’t exchange him for the world.

Jaebum

Mr. Im Jaebum manages the Production Department

Production and manufacturing isn’t easy work. There are deadlines to meet and quality standards to maintain. Production is the lifeblood of the corporation.

The quality of the products is extremely important to the company’s reputation and Im Jaebum does not compromise on anything. Everything has to be done perfectly and he expects his employees to come up with flawless results. He comes up with numbers and his employees have to bring them into existence.

But his expectations come with a responsibility of his own.

Jaebum takes excellent care of his employees. Even though the production goals he sets seem a little high at times, he also makes sure that every single employee, right down to the lowest factory worker is well-taken care of.

The company hasn’t faced a single worker’s strike since Mr. Im took over the Production Department. He can often be found arguing with the Directors and higher-ups to ensure better working conditions and benefits for his employees. A healthy workforce makes for a healthy company. He genuinely believes that his workers need to be happy for the department to function efficiently.

Mr. Im is both feared and respected.

He sometimes goes down the factories himself and conducts surprise inspections, so the warehouses and production facilities are always on high alert. But if the inspection goes well, then he treats all the workers to drinks after working hours end.

Jaebum sometimes gets a little drunk himself and does a really good impression of the CEO which gets everyone cracking up. But if anyone tries to take a video of him doing it, they’re going to be treated to a death glare.

Jaebum also secretly really adores kids, even though he doesn’t have any of his own. So he organizes a ‘bring-your-kids-to-work’ day twice a year. All the employees of his department can bring their kids to work to see what their parents do. Jaebum places a huge jar of candy on his desk and blushes whenever the kids come up to him. He’s too awkward to actually entertain them but he thinks they’re really cute.

He even let a particularly adorable five-year-old girl sit in his large, swirly leather office chair and wheeled her around like a rocket until he noticed the other employees were looking at him weirdly.

Even though Jaebum works them hard and enforces a lot of strict rules, everyone in the Production Department agrees that you can never find a manager more fair or just than Mr. Im Jaebum.

Jackson

Mr. Jackson Wang is head of the PR Department: Public Relations is his natural calling.

Jackson is that guy who constantly has a little Bluetooth mic in his ear; it’s really hard to tell whether he’s addressing you in front of him or he’s just talking to somebody through the Bluetooth. He likes to pace up and down the main office while taking calls in a loud voice. It makes him feel important.

Jackson takes a lot of phone calls. Most of them aren’t even work related, he’s just chatting with people in high positions but he claims that “maintaining contacts” is what he’s getting paid for.

Mr. Wang also uses the company card a lot. He submits receipts for various clubs and restaurants that he took some big politician or journalist to. Jackson can often be found in the Finance Manager, Park Jinyoung’s office towards the end of the month, begging him to clear all sorts of absurd expenses made in the company’s name. They usually have an hour-long meeting in Mr. Park’s office and Jackson ends up paying for the events by himself.

He’s not the best problem-solver. Jackson’s solution to just about any problem is “let’s call for a press conference.”

- “Mr. Wang, it’s actually very important that we keep this information away from the press for the time being-”

- “Yeah, yeah, I get that. But don’t you think we should hold a press conference? I’ll set one up right away!”

Somehow, he’s extremely hurt and surprised whenever he finds out that he’s been kept in the dark about confidential company matters.

Whenever there is a press conference though, Jackson makes it the most flashy and extravagant event possible. He hands out imported care packages to all the journalists and gives them free hampers with company products.

Every minuscule charitable contribution the company makes is on international headlines the next day. Pictures of the CEO visiting orphanages and making donations to starving children in poor countries can be found all over the internet. Jackson put them there.

He has a special team of people dedicated to leaving nice comments about the company on all sorts of internet fora. Sometimes he logs on himself and responds to haters just for the hell of it. He also manages the company’s social media presence; they have an Instagram page, a Twitter page, a Facebook page and exist on pretty much every social media platform ever.

Jackson has an excellent employee incentive scheme. Friday mornings are brainstorming sessions and anybody who comes up with a good idea to boost the company’s image gets a special gift; usually an expensive bottle of wine Jackson scored from a guy he knows, or a little bonus. The Finance Department severely disapproves of this scheme, so the funds come directly from Jackson’s own pocket.

He also likes a comfortable and bright environment. The PR Department’s office spaces are all painted in colorful shades, with beanbags and funny-looking chairs and fluffy rugs. He tried to get a cafe installed but the Finance Department put an end to that nonsense very quickly.

Although Jackson can be a little wild and loud at times, everyone agrees that the PR Department is undoubtedly the most fun department to work in.

Jinyoung

Mr. Park Jinyoung manages the Finance Department.

Before he turned up, the department was a corrupt mess. There were accounting scams everywhere, people at all levels of the corporate structure were siphoning off money whenever they pleased. Jinyoung personally tracked every single one of these people down and found proof that they’d been embezzling company funds.

Let’s just say that a lot of employees got arrested during the first two months of Mr. Park’s appointment. The PR Department was in panic (the only time Jackson Wang was forced to actually work overtime to ensure the entire company wasn’t labelled as corrupt by the media), but it worked out in the long run. Now the company is clean and Mr. Park does not compromise on integrity.

Jinyoung has one golden rule, which is written in bold letters and pasted on his office for everyone to see as they arrive. The sign reads ‘No Wasteful Expenditure’. There is nothing Jinyoung hates more than useless expenditure. Every penny spent must bring in some solid, traceable returns and that is how he runs the finances of the company.

He can regularly be seen arguing with Mr. Wang of the PR Department in his office. “Taking the journalists to a strip club is NOT a business expense! I refuse to sanction your reimbursements! Pay for your own entertainment!”

Jinyoung is also extremely stingy about allocating budgets to the Research and Development team. Kim Yugyeom can often be found in Mr. Park’s office as well, pleading for more funds while Jinyoung ignores him completely. “When is the last time your Department ever designed anything worth selling? All the money we’ve allocated you in the past is a sunk cost. Do you know what that means, Mr. Kim? It means it’s sunk to the bottom of the fucking ocean and we’re never getting that money back!”

Mr. Kim Yugyeom doesn’t ask for money anymore. R&D make do with what they have.

Jinyoung is extremely anal about his office space. The entire Finance Department is stuck with posters like “Reuse and Recycle” and there are reminders to turn off the lights when not in use. Jinyoung also insists that the air-conditioning be switched off for at least two hours every day. Even in summer. Sweating is good for your body.

The prevailing system is tough love. Jinyoung is harsh with employee performance reviews and getting a bonus is not easy if you work for the Finance Department. He’s also a micro-manager, requiring that every small thing be passed through him for approval.

Delegation is not a term well-respected in Mr. Park’s vocabulary. He doesn’t trust people to do things themselves. Sometimes he wanders around the employee’s desks for no reason, hovering over them like a schoolteacher trying to make sure the students aren’t cheating on an exam.

Whenever the auditing season is over, though, Jinyoung makes sure to throw a huge party for the accounting branch and invites the entire Finance Department. Work outings aren’t often but when they do take place, they get wild.

Overall, the employees of the Finance Department work hard and long hours, but they can’t really complain because Mr. Park works just as hard as them and he never sets any standards that he doesn’t follow himself.

Youngjae

Mr. Choi Youngjae is the friendly Human Resources manager.

The HR Department is a very calm and peaceful place. Youngjae has strategically placed potpourri all over the Department office to disseminate calming fragrances and he keeps scented candles in his own office. It’s his way of relieving stress after a long day of dealing with people screaming at him.

“Yes, sir, I understand that you booked the conference room in advance and that the PR Department should not be allowed to play loud music and disturb your meeting. Yes, I’ll have a talk with Mr. Wang about this.”

“It does make sense that an executive of your level should be allowed to travel in business class, but it’s up to the Finance Department to allocate budget and sanction your... yes, I understand. I’ll talk to Mr. Park.”

The HR Department is essentially the anger management center for all the other employees. Many of the managers like to come and walk into Mr. Choi’s office at all times of the day to vent their problems to him. He’s often dealing with noise complaints filed against the PR Department and the Marketing Department.

His only friend in the office is Jaebum, who often comes to talk to him about employee benefits and payroll issues. Youngjae admires how passionate Jaebum is about worker’s rights and he generally backs him when trying to beg the Board to allow for an increase in wages or additional holiday bonuses for the employees. It’s the only time Youngjae’s job feels worthwhile.

Youngjae is also required to hold seminars and training courses on conflict resolution and workplace ethics every quarter. The sessions are largely pointless because they usually just end in Jinyoung making snarky remarks about how all of the other departments waste the company’s money and Jackson’s cellphone goes off every five minutes because he refuses to keep it on silent. Bambam and Yugyeom are usually entirely absent from the seminars completely; they translate seminar day to mean holiday.

Youngjae is extremely grateful to Mark and Jaebum for being the only two people who actually pay attention to his seminars, but they’re never involved in any conflict anyway so it makes no sense.

Youngjae also regularly has to talk to Bambam about taking too many vacations days. Somehow, the man turns up with perfectly valid medical certificates stating that he was ill even though everyone knows he went on a trip to Bangkok with his new girlfriend. Youngjae doesn’t really know how to deal with the problem. He chooses to ignore it.

On slow days, Youngjae brings his dog into work and spends the afternoon playing with Coco.

Overall, he’s an extremely sweet HR manager who secretly hates his job but puts up with it because he doesn’t know what else he would do. Also leaves work at exactly 5 pm sharp and sometimes runs into Mark in the parking lot.

Bambam

Bambam runs the Marketing Department.

The Department is largely a mess. It’s meant to be a hub of creativity, and the office is filled with drawing boards and sticky notes and all sorts of scribbles all over the place.

A clean environment does not get one’s creative juices flowing.

Bambam also has dartboards with pictures of their major competitors set up all over the office. Employees are encouraged to use them often.

The job of marketing is to get products to sell and Bambam firmly believes that there is one foolproof way to do that; glamour.

He makes the company sign endorsement deals with almost every single famous celebrity in town; actresses, sports-persons, singers... Bambam knows them all and they’re all endorsing his products. If his team can’t come up with a good enough marketing strategy then they can just take their pick of all the celebrities Bambam has signed deals with and use one of them to endorse the product.

It’s not easy convincing Jinyoung to part with millions so that he can pay some famous actress to advertise their cosmetics line, but Bambam is better at wearing Jinyoung down than the other managers. Also, sales figures have been skyrocketing ever since Bambam took over so Jinyoung has a soft spot for him. At least he brings in results, unlike the R&D team.

Bambam maintains a very casual work environment with his employees. The moment their workload decreases, he’s usually off visiting some exotic foreign country. It’s surprising how he manages to get work done despite almost never being in his office; but Bambam parties hard and works harder.

He probably would have been fired by now if he hadn’t been bringing in so many sales, and if Youngjae hadn’t been too soft to bring up the matter of him overstepping his allocated vacation days.

All the same, all his employees love him.

Yugyeom

Mr. Kim Yugyeom manages the Research and Development team

The R&D team was one of the biggest spenders in the company until Mr. Park Jinyoung was hired and slashed their budget in half. They’ve been struggling to operate since then, but their productivity hasn’t increased much. They still produce next to nothing.

Yugyeom always encourages his employees to share their wild and insane product ideas. Since the R&D department don’t actually have to show any concrete results, they can often be seen slacking off. Most of their ideas are insane from the start and could never have been implemented anyway.

The only productive research that was taking place through the R&D Department was in the cosmetics line, but Yugyeom had that research shut down after he found out that they were testing the cosmetics on little bunnies and mice. He spent the rest of the day locked up in his office watching PETA videos on the horrors of animal testing and crying himself to sleep.

It took the combined efforts of Youngjae and Bambam to reassure Yugyeom that he wasn’t responsible for the deaths of hundreds of animals and that he should just shift his focus to products which didn’t need to be tested on living things.

The biggest achievement of Mr. Kim’s career was convincing the company to start a line of chocolate milk-based products. It was a line of research that Jinyoung firmly refused to fund but that didn’t matter because Yugyeom and his employees were fully willing to test the product on themselves. They drank nothing but chocolate milk for an entire month before the product was finally approved for sale.

Nobody complained because Yugyeom looked so hopeful.

Bambam was so proud of his friend for having finally developed a successful product that he hired one of the most popular actresses to endorse it and the chocolate milk sold like hotcakes. It’s still one of the most popular milk brands.

On days when they don’t need to work because Youngjae is holding one of his workplace ethics seminars, he and Bambam go to the amusement park or the bowling alley and have the time of their lives.

Most of the employees in the R&D team love Yugyeom because, well, nobody every really does any work there and he doesn’t care either. Who wouldn’t love a manager like that?

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neshabeingchildish · 5 years

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07. Feeding the Monster

Well, I’ma be real with y’all. I haven’t made any new white friends in ages, lost many of the associates that I once had in recent years and honestly have like 2-4 in my life that I’m comfortable with on a genuine friendship level. But. a lot of young people tell me about how disappointed they wind up when they first recognize that their friends don’t get their identities. Growing up in SETX, in a city surrounded by hick towns with active Klan my entire lifetime, none of the “racial climate” of America is new to me or mine. But, I do realize that in some places, people somehow never witness or experience a racially motivated situation early in life. I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. To be honest, it’s so normal where I’m from, I don’t know what the attitude might be for people who have only managed to get dosages of it in “Trump’s America.” Regardless... I wanted to do this sort of Charlotte-centric racial piece and ultimately decided that A Chasper Fic was where I would put it. Though, it could easily be a standalone with Chasper shipping. Anywho, TW for racial discrimination, harassment and racial isolation. I know that affects a lot of folk and don’t want too much heartache.

Feeding the Monster

Most people don't know Charlotte. That's one of the world's greatest gags, in her opinion. She was always straightforward. She's never been dishonest or fake. She may not always speak her mind, as she didn't always find that necessary and some people simply weren't worth her energy. But, even being as genuine and authentic as she had always been… people didn't really know her. People thought that they knew her. She was often a subject of conversation. Whether she was thought of as a booksmart nerd with no friends, or a pretty girl who probably was stuck up and that's why she had no friends.. Charlotte was aware of the mystery surrounding her.

Even her two best friends didn't get all of what there was there. They knew her habits and hobbies, but neither of them ever really knew her hardships. They never noticed and they never asked. It didn't surprise her. Neither was observant and that wound up being her role in their lives a lot of the time. But, she strongly believed that if she sometimes shared her issues, they would most likely have her back. Why trouble anybody with anything they'd never really have to deal with, though?

That gave her hardships too much power. She didn't ignore her problems. But, she liked to handle them in her own way and time, if it was worth either. Sometimes… things didn't go as planned, though.

Her parents didn't discuss it, unless of course it couldn't be avoided, but Charlotte knew early on that there was a difference between herself and most of the Swellview kids.

They didn't seem to have the haircare concerns that she did. Their skincare routines seemed vastly different. Whenever they watched TV and movies - they saw themselves in the characters and in public personas. Whenever she watched the same programs, she saw her surroundings, not her reflection.

It wasn't an issue that she was necessarily conscious of. She simply knew. She knew that different spaces held different volumes of viewable types. For instance, at a family gathering she knew she'd see perhaps sixty similar viewable types. But, at a school gathering she knew that she would probably only see six. That was simply a thing that she knew, like the sky is blue and 2+2.

As she got older, more tech savvy and reliant on the Internet; the differences became clearer. Not in the way that she felt some type of way about being different and her reflection being a minority… but she noticed that many of those souls in her surroundings felt a way about it.

Now, her two friends - they didn't really see it. She had been friends with both of them long enough to gather that much. They couldn't hear the dog whistle terminology or feel the aura when some bias was directed towards her. She would be annoyed by it at times, but mostly, she tried not to let the ignorance of others interfere with her day.

Whenever the ignorance triggered hatred, she'd sometimes gain an enemy. They might start a battle and she would feel like the one with the power to pick and choose those. She wasn't used to anyone else joining her, especially when she wasn't choosing to battle…

"It was dangerous. For all you know, the man is a psychopath and capable of killing you!" She fussed at Jasper, pulling him into the Man Cave by the elbow and carrying both of their bags. Henry looked up at the sound of her fussing, expecting to see Jasper with egg on his face or something. Instead, he saw blood.

"Whoa! What is happening? Who did that to Jasper? Tell me it was a wild animal!" He said, with his hand at the ready to grab his tube of gumballs.

"He fought like a wild animal, but trust me - the other guys were in way worse shape." She sat Jasper down, dropped their things and went to the auto snacker, "Three bags of ice." Henry fished for more details as she retrieved the first aid kit.

"Okay. I know I made you mad once and you socked me with a slab of meat, but THIS is way different. What the butt happened?"

"Some dude attacked Charlotte!" Jasper said while she was putting ice on his busted fists.

"WHAT?" Henry did have his tube of gum now and was pouring one into his hand.

Charlotte offered, "Trust me, for now the crisis has come to a halt."

Jasper went on, "He was following her and screaming obscenities when I walked up, and I heard him call her the worst thing that I've ever actually heard in my entire life."

"What did he say?" Henry asked, with the gumball at his lips.

Charlotte snatched it away from him and resumed tending to a cut above Jasper's left eye, "I don't need two of you busted up. That fight could have easily been avoided. The guy was probably not gonna touch me and I was recording him with my phone, in case it escalated beyond the yelling and I would have just pressed charges. But Jasper comes along and immediately takes a swing at the guy, and nearly got murked by he and his friend!” She addressed his jaw next, with trembling hands. "Somebody like that is just looking for a fight. You don't GIVE it to them. You let them do their thing, then you either make them famous on the Internet, or if you’re me, you show them they're irrelevant by not feeding the monster." She was shaken up as she placed a bag of ice on his jaw. "What if they had weapons? You could have been seriously hurt. I could've seen my friend killed over a few slurs."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't think about that when I heard him. That's revolting. Who says things like that to someone?"

She stroked his hair and shrugged her shoulders. "It happens."

He leaned into her touch, "I know, but it shouldn't and you shouldn't have had to have it happen to you. Weren't you upset or angry or something?" Henry felt like he was witnessing some intimate moment, but was too concerned to dismiss himself.

Charlotte admitted, "I was furious and terrified. I usually am. But, I pick my battles and some bulky guy with a friend is not someone I felt like I should engage. You should’ve followed my lead."

Jasper pulled the ice from his face and said, "You usually are? How often has this happened to you?" He was horrified by the thought of it happening even once!

She shrugged her shoulders, but tears were trying to come out of her face. "You know, the first time I heard that word , I was 7, and by the time I stopped counting the times, I was 14 and had been referred to as something like that about a dozen times. The past few years, it's increased and people are more vicious about it. Like that guy… That's the 3rd time something like that happened this year."

"WHAT???" Jasper cried out.

She shook her head and said, "Google it or something. I don't want to talk about it." She left to go pull herself together and Jasper put the ice back on his face.

"She's not upset that you fought him. She's embarrassed that you saw her go through something that sounds terrible. She doesn't like to look weak and stuff." Henry said and sat down. "So.. that dude. He said.. you know THE word. N word?"

"An N one followed by a B one," Jasper said, clenching his fist.

"Anybody would have punched him in the face."

"No. Not if it happens a lot and we didn't even know. We would have heard that someone punched somebody in the face for that, right?"

"Maybe. We're just now hearing how often it happens to her."

"I feel sick. How does this happen and she just… I don't know… Deals with it?"

"Same way you deal with your personal things," she said, coming back and forcing him to put the ice back on his jaw. "Speaking of.. your mom is gonna lose it when she sees this." She sighed, dreading the thought of what she might say to him about it. "Tell her you were defending Henry. She likes him."

Jasper put the ice aside and pulled her to himself to give her a hug. "I'm sorry that this is… frequent for you. And I'm sorry in advance… because if I'm ever there and that happens, I'm always gonna fight for you."

"I also will be fighting over this," Henry said, lifting a finger in the air.

She pulled away from Jasper's hug with an escaped tear and a chuckle. "Well, you're both idiots," she said and walked off. But, there was something soothing about their declaration. It was almost like they finally got everything that there was there with her.

"Dude. I don't want to be the guy who flip flops on issues, but I'm relatively sure that you just bagged your girl," Henry said.

"You're joking. She's furious with me."

"She's furious that you got hurt over something that she's (sadly) gotten used to living with. I don't know anybody alive that's not turned on by someone else jumping in front of danger for them. I say this from experience of being a hero. You are in there, Jasp."

Jasper fought off a smile. It hurt his jaw. "I didn't do it for that. It was just a reflex. I'm not gonna use this as my plot to get her. That seems gauche. I just… really want her to feel like we're here for her when she gets treated like that." Jasper was thinking about what she'd said earlier. Him dealing with his mom was vastly different from having strangers accost you on the sidewalk just for existing.

Ray came in and shook his head, "Who'd you tick off this time, Jasper?"

"Char says he won the fight," Henry told him.

Ray smiled, "Oh yeah? Against who? Some kid?"

"Dude was trying to hurt Charlotte…"

Ray reached for his gumball tube, "Oh, really? She get a piece of him too?"

Henry shook his head. "She seemed really scared, Dude. Apparently people say racist stuff to her a lot?"

"WHAT?" Ray said, throwing gum into his mouth.

"She doesn't want us to go after him… But, Jasper, if we happen to see him or his friend somewhere, just signal and it's on."

"If I see him, I'm actually going to dropkick him in the chest, both feet, on sight." Jasper said.

"That'll be the signal then," Henry said and fist bumped him.

Jasper winced, shook his fist and put it back into the ice. "You… really think this will make Charlotte see me differently?"

Henry quickly said, "Dude, you got your jaw rocked. We all see you differently right now."

Ray followed up with, "I see you differently, Jasper. Respect." He raised his fist and Jasper bumped it and powered through the pain. It was worth it.

Charlotte returned and changed Jasper ice out, then looked at all of them suspiciously. "What are you three up to?"

"Male bonding."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Well, take it easy on this one. He's had enough adventure for a while." Then, she strummed Jasper's hair again and gave him a smile before heading back to the store. All three of them waited until she was on the elevator to respond happily to that little gesture.

#A Chasper Fic #chasper #henry danger #Nesha HD Fics #hd fanfic #I know I said that Family Danger was next but this one wrote itself and I just had to find it a home #I'm really working on FD and some AU Glee tho #This Means War is on hold #August is hectic

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beheadingofmakai · 6 years

Text

“Baller”

Lance “The Monster God” @tainbocuailnge hit me with:

for writing prompts, how about someone drunk bidding on a sword (or other weapon you're the one who knows shit about weapons) on ebay only to find out when it arrives that it is a magic and/or possessed sword that /desperately/ wants to belong to some mythical ancient hero despite it being the good old year of 2018 and if it has to whip its new owner into shape then so be it

So sit back, grab your pop corn, and let Uncle Drimo Beheading tell you the story of an unemployed man who drank a little bit too much and got in a scuffle with a mysterious man with an anime avatar, an event that changed his life.

———

“...And who the shit has an anime avatar on ePay?! You mean this freaking nerd outbid me? Get the hell out, let’s see what other deals he’s in, you’ve crossed the wrong unemployed drunk, shithead.”

The dark room’s sole source of light was the monitor’s light blue hue, reflected on a man’s glasses that sat in front of two tired, drunken, furious eyes.

2:38 AM, three bottles of schrobbeler, twelve cans of stout and a small army of discarded potato chip bags. It was a particularly bitter Friday, now Saturday, for Jan, and what better remedy for the sorrows of modern life than senseless spending? Like syrup finding is way down one’s throat, vigilantly hunting for a cold, the act of burning money seems oddly cathartic. It’s very much just pretending one’s current problems aren’t there by simply creating more trouble for oneself in the future. And sometimes, this future trouble is worth it if one’s splurging involves spiting someone with an anime avatar and a lot of booze. Not really, but it sure as hell seems so during the heat of a bid war.

“You think you’re hot shit, xX_KimikoKisser937_Xx? That I’m gonna let you flaunt your weight around just because you got some disposable income? I’m gonna shit on your sofa!”

Bills are a pain in the ass, aren’t they? Water, light, real estate, food expenses, cab fare... We’re lucky these brutes haven’t found a way to pipe oxygen and charge us for it yet, but it is what it is. And for bills, you need a job, for you kill those with your paycheck. Things were rocky, but stable enough the last few months for Jan Wildemors, but just yesterday, Fate decided to be that unlikable bitch we all hate and that hates us back, and he was laid off. No feedback or reason given, either. He was handed his stuff in a box that was missing a flap, and told to go, thank you for your hard work the last eight months, which is a very polite and corporate way of saying “go choke on a cat-o-nine-tails composed entirely of dildos”.

“Hah! Really regret on screwing me over with that keyboard now, don’t you, jackass?” Jan adjusted his glasses as he proudly asserted his dominance, victory his, not really sure what he just bought, but satisfied with the knowledge that he did. Hooray, unhealthy coping mechanisms! With his objective complete and his body at its limit, Jan went down like a glorious baboon that just missed a branch during its jump, his face smacking his desk as he lost consciousness like an ape plummets down a tree: With a lot of drool and a dull thud.

———

“Now, hold on just a second, let me check one more time with my bank, and--”

“Hey, you bought it, I just deliver it, now please just sign up already, and with all due disrespect, wear some pants next time. The day’s not even begun, and your hairy legs already ruined it. And yesterday too, retroactively.”

As the confused, unemployed man signed the paper on the clipboard (with a lent pen, of course), he was left one on one with the fruit of his idiocy: An ornate box, long and purple, the most expensive thing in the small apartment by far without even accounting for whatever it contained. “Oh man, oh man, I really messed up last night...”. Well! Whatever! It’s here already, so might as well open it! The best part of messing up is when you finally realize there’s no use in crying over spilled! Hooray, unhealthy coping mechanisms!

Inside the long and purple box was nothing other than a longsword, ornate and majestic. It was at this point that our dearest Jan propped a chair close to the window and prepared himself to just fucking throw himself out of it headfirst into the speeding traffic from the fourth floor.

“Welp, that’s that. I went and bought a sword. A sword. I can’t buy anything fancier than instant ramen or soggy lettuce leaves, not even the whole thing, I just got laid off from my job, and the first thing my drunk ass does is buy a sword. No wonder I had no cash when I checked in the morning. Well, alright, I’d like to thank my father for my ethics, my mother for my sense of humor, and neither of them for my savvy with finances, now let’s check out heaven, alley oop!”

“A moment, if you would.”

“Oh, sweet, the delirium is starting to kick in, I can hear voices! I love nervous breakdowns!”

“Face me when I speak to you, boy.”

Jan froze in place. This was the first time the panic voices ever were so untoward. He considered, for just a second, that maybe he truly wasn’t alone in this room, that perhaps, against all odds, that which was inside the box was the one...

“...Yes, it is I that speaks to you, now turn around and face me already, you unruly child.”

In the words of Oscar Wilde himself: “Holy shite”.

“Hold on, what, no one told me swords could speak.”

“And they normally don’t, but I am not a normal sword.”

On top of the chair, wearing only a sleeveless white t-shirt and coffee stained boxers, Jan Wildemors faced the sword in the purple box, a faint silver aura blanketing it, the two staring at each other while Jan comprehended, little by little, that his mundane life was about to end. The faint glow of the morning sun that filtered in through the closed blinds accentuated this scene, the young man’s face stained with lines of bewilderment and amazement.

He then faced the window and tried to throw himself out again.

“H-hey, stop trying to kill yourself for a second and hear me out, will you not!? What kind of reaction is this to the honor of being addressed to by Moonflare itself!”

“Yeah, no thanks! I’m not only unemployed and in debt, now I am being plunged into some magic nonsense that I want no part of! This truly is the end for me!”

“Wait, you’ve no job and you owe money? That’s less than ideal, young one.”

“And now a sword is criticizing my life choices! This sucks!”

“Just hear me out, damn it!”

“Aaaaaa!”

“Baller”

———

“Coffee or juice?”

“I’m a sword.”

“Yeah.”

The young man sat in front of the sword, sipping his coffee, finally wearing pants, the weapon unmoved from the purple box, its faint silver flow still emanating like a candle at the end of a long, dark hallway. A resigned sigh is all the young man could muster, lifting his arms in very real surrender.

“Alright, let’s do this. What’s up?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s up’? First your purchase me and now you wonder what the dickens I am? Where is it that I came from? How could you possibly acquire a Resonant Arm without knowing? Is this some manner of jest?”

“Yeah, look, I’m not going to lie to you, Monsieur Sword, I--”

“Moonflare.”

“Hm?”

“I’m no Monsieur, nor am I a Madame, I am a sword with a name, and that name is Moonflare. Be sure to use it.”

“Yeah, sure. Anyways, so yesterday, I was laid off from my job, so I got real damn drunk, and decided, yeah, Imma buy a gaming keyboard! It’s a sound investment! It’ll improve my morale and help out with my job hunting!”

“Uh huh...”

Jan stretched and sipped from his coffee, making keyboard motions with his free hand. “No, for real, reward yourself, and then be responsible without a regret! It works! Sometimes! Unfortunately, the model I wanted was the last one in stock in ePay, this bidding website for online transactions--”

“You bought me online!?” Moonflare cut in.

“What, that weird?”

“I’m a Resonant Arm! It’s akin to saying someone bought a priceless relic on the internet!”

“Well, about that...” Jan produced his smartphone, tapped it a couple of times, and pointed the screen to the hilt, where he assumed the sword’s “eyes” were. Jan is no sword biologist, so we hope you’ll excuse his beginner’s mistake. “...People kinda buy really expensive things like the Mona Liz--”

“Someone bought the Mona Lizard!?”

“On the internet.”

“Curses!”

“Yeah, so I guess you ended up being sold off online, and whether your previous owner knew about you being a Restaurant Arm or not is anyone’s guess, but the fact is, the keyboard I wanted was ripped from my bloody, splintered fingers by some asshole with an anime avatar that outbid me at the last second. So I got mad and went to outbuy him in something else he was putting money in for.”

“...What for?”

“A foolish and short-lived sense of satisfaction and spite.”

“Marvelous, and that’s how you came to own me.”

“That’s the whole shebang, ya.”

If the sword had eyes, their revolutions per second would create a localized cyclone. It was clear this was a six piece McNobody who just obtained them as a consequence of bad impulse control and good taste in alcohol.

“...Well then,” Moonflare finally let out, as if forcing words out of its sword throat. “You know, at least you’re honest. Well, this might just be what you need.”

Jan’s eyebrow raised inquisitively. “...What do you mean?”

“This could be destiny at play, young man. No job, crippling debt, the end of the road, that’s what life is for you right now. And at the moment of most need, when you see the horizon as a guillotine encroaching on your throat with each passing day, cooped up in this cell that no doubt will be subjected to embargo, you come across me, Moonflare the Pilgrimbreaker, Resonant Arm... No doubt you see where this is going, right?”

“What are you suggesting...?” Jan inquired, his interest thoroughly piqued.

“You can be a Hero. I can make you a Hero. One worthy of wielding the real me. Look around you, you know you want this. Say, what’s that poster over there, above the couch?”

Jan looked to where the sword had verbally pointed and found his old Funny Fantasy VII poster, with its protagonist boldly wielding his weapon in an action pose.

“It’s my Funny Fantasy VII Collector’s Edition poster. It’s my favorite game ever.”

“And who is that brazen, courageous man showcased oh so prominently in the forefront?”

“That’s Clown Strife! A failed JESTER who didn’t have it in him to make it big in the ranks of the CIR.cus organization! After taking to wandering as a mercenary, his freelancing eventually landed him smack in the middle of a huge, world-class incident!”

“Poetic, is it not? You’ve just been released from your own job, you’re swamped in debt, and nothing seems to be going right... And that’s when we cross roads. It’s not only that you don’t really have a choice, this is the right choice. We’ll make it big.”

For the first time in years, Jan’s eyes shone with a fire they had long forgotten. Hopping from job after job, doing shit he didn’t wanna do, forcing smiles for nasty bosses who didn’t give a damn about him... It could all be over. It could all remain in the past, were he to become a Hero.

“I’ll do it.” he said, resolution dripping from his voice and fire emanating from his eyes like a faulty smelter. “Let’s do this!”

———

“Let’s not do this!”

“Quit whining and give me ten more laps!”

“Stop giving me more laps!”

“Then stop whining, cur!”

It’s been a week of this tragedy. Day after day, night after night, the sword and man duo engaged in this pitiful play. Moonflare, the sharpest drill sergeant in town, attacked the would-be Hero with arduous routine after routine, if one could call “20 hours straight of morbidly harsh training” a routine, by any stretch. When he was finally done doing suspended midair push-ups with a tire, Moonflare gave the signal (which is a disappointed sigh, by the way), and Jan finally came down.

“You’ve got the physical condition, Jan, you are fit and can move well, but you don’t take pressure well.” the sword chided. “How are we going to achieve fame like this?”

“...”

This silent reply didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is there something that’s bothering you, young one?”

“Yes, actually. You keep mentioning ‘fame’. We need to be the best to cause an impression this, we need to be at our peak condition that, you seem really obsessed with fame. Isn’t a Hero’s role to save people in the first place?”

But now, the silence came from the sword.

“...Hey, I’ve put up with this for a week, you could at least tell me what a Restaurant Arm is already in addition to answering to what I just said. I’m breaking my back, almost literally, here.”

“You make a good point.” the sword replied with what almost was a sigh. “A Resonant Arm, and please get ‘Resonant’ right already, is a weapon crafted with a fragment of a powerful weapon of legend. In this body, I am powerful sword with capabilities far beyond regular weapons, yet, I’m still a shade of my true potential. It’s because only a shard of my original body is in this shell.”

“Oh! So wait, you’re not just some delirium or haunted sword with delusions of grandeur?”

“I ought to pierce a lung of yours for that statement, hmph! Indeed, I am not a figment of your desperate psyche, I am indeed THE Moonflare, the Pilgrimbreaker, the Discipliner, the...”

Jan scratched his head as he drank some water as Moonflare went on and on with his titles before he interjected. “I’ve never heard of you.”

That window shattering in the distance? That’s Moonflare’s confidence you just heard. “...Yeah, that’s the problem.”

“Hm?”

“...I am a legendary weapon, but I am unsung, because my previous master didn’t care for fame in the slightest.”

Jan simply looked at the sword, as if telling it to go on.

“...Centuries ago, I belonged to The Pilgrimbreaker, a very unknown Hero. There’s no records of her real name, for she refused to announce it, there’s no records of her face, for she always wore a helmet that shrouded it, and there’s no records of where she went to after the Mana Turbulence, for she disappeared without saying a word after all was said and done. Just a few souls in this world know about her, hence why I’m an unsung legendary weapon.”

“Huh... I was thinking she was small time, but the Mana Turbulence was a big deal way back in the day, wasn’t it? Was she weak compared to the other Heroes or something?”

“Nonsense!” Moonflare suddenly raised its voice in stark contrast to its usual calm bearing. “Pilgrimbreaker was the real deal! I never could see eye to eye with her, but I will never tolerate illspeak of her!”

“W-woah!”

“Her form was perfect, her mind impenetrable, her defense unbreakable and her aggression irresistible! She struck fear in whoever was in the wrong side of her blade! Do you know where she got the moniker of Pilgrimbreaker, boy!?”

“Moonflare, calm down, I didn’t mean to--”

“She singlehandedly infiltrated the dread cavern where the Pilgrims Of Brozarok held the Ritual Of Turbulence, which would’ve torn the world’s apart thrice had it been completed, and killed every last one of the wicked dastards! Her arm swished left and right, which each move an impact responding, each swipe a life taking, over and over, dodging curses and enduring maladies! She fought for an entire two days, killing every single Pilgrim in the cavern. By the time four hours had passed, I had gone dull from the sheer and excessive amount of cleaving, and yet, she relented not! With myself as a blunt hunk of moonsteel, she kept going, going, and going! What once were slashes now were blunt strikes, but her sheer strength would break them apart all the same! By the forty eighth hour, when she had broken every Pilgrim and stopped the Ritual, her own sword arm lay shattered and her muscles swollen. She saved the world! She saved us all...”

“...But she’s not famous, not unlike the other Heroes whose names are now in history books, huh?”

Today, Jan learned that swords could indeed cry. “Indeed... The other Heroes actually acknowledged and respected her. Some admired her! They worked together many times, and they were all equally instrumental in stopping the Turbulence. However, she always insisted in others not singing her praises. She foolishly refused to reveal face or name, and eventually, history forgot her.”

“...I guess that explains why you were sold as an antique at best online. No one knows the true of your previous Master, and thus, of your deeds.”

“...Yes. I suppose that makes sense.”

“So I guess your true body, that is, the true Moonflare is elsewhere, if only a fragment is built in you?” Jan inquired, going back to that topic not only because of his genuine curiosity, but also to change the topic, as it clearly was a sensitive topic for Moonflare.

“Yes and no. The ‘true’ Moonflare would imply I’m a fake one. I am indeed Moonflare, just, not in my true body. This blade was forged with a fragment found in the cavern where the Pilgrims met their end. As thus, I have consciousness in this ‘body’. Resonant Arms are called a such because they resonate with their true bodies, and can thus direct their owners to the real legendary weapons. Since it’s my body, I know where it is -- where I am.”

Jan’s eyes shot wide open and he choked on water. “Pwaah! H-hold on, if we can go get your real body, then why haven’t we done that?! We’ve just been wasting time for a week!”

“It’s not that easy. I need to make sure you are worthy. Not anyone can handle a legendary weapon, and you need to show me your physical and mental aptitude. That’s why, today, we’ll have a little test.”

“What? What’s this test? If you make me run more laps, I swear to Aunt Jemima I’ll--”

“We’ll go and do heroic deeds! The streets are dangerous at night, no? We’ll go and stop a crime! Then, I shall judge you!”

“Oh!”

It was finally time. After a whole week of this tiresome nonsense, of pushing his body to the utter limit, of ragging his muscles to shreds, it was finally time to engage in the whole Heroing dealio! And Jan, our strapping would-be Hero, simply couldn’t wait.

———

The streets of the city aren’t exactly what you’d call safe. In fact, they are not what you’d call “oh they are alright as long as you stay in the main streets and by the light”, either. Every back alley you see is a brave new world of armed robbery and assault, with your neck and wallet ripe for the taking. The ideal place to truly thrive as the scum of society and get your doctorate in banditry. Why, just now, a helpless office worker, on her way back from overtime, has found herself tangled in an interesting business proposition between herself and a switchblade pressed against her neck. The switchblade’s companion, a rather forceful fellow with an iron grip and a neck covered in veins, currently yells at her politely, suggesting she voluntarily makes a generous donation to his wallet. How beautiful they are, the streets of this city, rife with opportunity and bankrupted in morals and safety.

Little did the streets know that a brand new market element was about to change their business dynamic.

“Hold it right there, fiend!”

The sudden voice blindsided the mugger not from behind, but from above. As his neck craned to see just who in the world would dare interrupt such an important business meeting, he soon found his answer: It was the man wielding a longsword that currently plummeted towards him.

“The fu--!” The mugger moved out of the way in time to avoid feasting on boots, finally finding himself face to face with the vigilante. The lady that was being mugged couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at the cloaked figure of justice, its silver blade glimmering under the moonlight with unnatural fervor. The billowing cape and the small domino mask made it abundantly clear that this was no mere civilian, this was a vigilante who meant business.

“R-repent now, wrongdoer! Surrender yourself peacefully, and you may yet know mercy!”

“Oi! What’s wrong! Don’t stutter your lines!” Moonflare whispered.

“H-how do you expect me not to!? These lines are so cheesy and stupid...! J-just let me handle the script, yeah?”

“Absolutely not! Who is the seasoned legendary weapon here? If I may be so bold, I believe I know more about this whole Hero business than you do! Just follow my lead and we’ll rake in the fame I de-- we deserve! Now shush!”

With a sigh, Jan simply surrendered and went along with it, dramatically pointing the sword towards his foe. “Hark! Release the dame or taste the righteous fury of the Pilgrimbreaker, miscreant! Know that I shan’t stay my hand a second longer!”

“...pfff...”

A small chuckle finally interrupted the monologue of the would-be Hero. It wasn’t the mugger that let it out, however, it was the victim.

“pppfff... I-I’m sorry, but wow, you are extremely lame. A domino mask? Cape? Really? What C-list telenovela did you jump out from? Shouldn’t you be looking for your missing baby? Maybe slashing ‘Z’s on walls like a loser? Please do me a favor and let me get robbed, it’d be far more dignified than letting you save me, Costume Party.” the lady mercilessly commented, performing Herculean efforts to contain her laughter.

“Shit, I know, right? Who goes, ppfppfffffff, who goes all ‘reepehnt villuns!’ anymore? Did your mom slam dunk you when you were a child, guy? Cloak and mask over sweatpants and a sleeveless wife beater with coffee stains? Really?” the robber added, shaking his head.

“A full outfit is expen--”

“Then don’t wear any at all, idiot! You only look like an overgrown manchild going out trick or treating! You really looked at yourself in the mirror and thought, ‘yeah, this is cool, I look like justice itself, I’ll drown in pussy!’?” the supposed victim harshly mocked, her laughter now out of control.

“Pffff, yeah right, this guy couldn’t score in brothel. His birth certificate is an apology note from the condom factory. Imagine being this asshole’s mom!”

“Oh, fuck off! Someone carried this thing for nine months! Imagine looking at this dude’s FateBook and seeing him posting pics of his outfit, like, ‘Yeah! Ready to fight crime! #Herointhemaking’, and then thinking, yeah, I did this, I made this, I was irritable and in pain for 9 months so I could bring this specimen to the world. At that point, I rip my ovaries out with my own hands and play ping pong with them.” she mercilessly chided.

“Bwaaahahahaha! Hey, you are really funny, and pretty cute, now that I look at you.” observed the criminal, apparently taken with her, now that he could see her better, out of the darkest reaches of the back alley.

“You are not bad yourself... I like a man that can handle a knife. Say, are you free right now? I’d like to unwind after work. We had a meeting today and my bitch of a supervisor, who happens to be why I drink, was on one of those moods today.”

“I’m down for that. I know a really good place here, they have craft beer really cheap, since they make it themselves, and the steak is to die for. Let’s leave Captain Virgin behind and get started!”

The mugger and the victim looked at each others’ eyes with just an inkling of passion for a few seconds before walking away, arm in arm, leaving behind our would-be Hero, the night young and ripe for their taking. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that would steer the young man towards rehabilitation and for him to abandon the ways of the petty street criminal, working long and hard for his doctorate in electrical engineering, a career he dropped out of, with the loving support of his girlfriend, whose own lifestyle greatly improved thanks to his good domestic skills and the encouraging fire of his pep talks. Together, they had three children (two of them twins) and lived a happy, humor filled life, growing old together, hand in hand.

Anyways, back to the present, where Jan’s self-esteem was shattered into so many pieces that you couldn’t even vacuum clean them.

“...What did just happen...?” Moonflare inquired, confused, no scratching his sword chin with the sword hand it didn’t have.

“C-crime successfully prevented! A-all part of the plan!”

“Are you crying?”

“Of joy!”

“Are you also trembling of joy?”

“Y-yup!”

“...In your parlance, this ‘sucked’, didn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“I really don’t know what to say, Jan. This is the first time I see an attempt at crimestopping end up in matchmaking. You might be cut out to be a Cupid more than a Hero, perhaps. Well, no matter, let’s try with the next--”

“Oh no no, look here, we’re not doing this again.” the would-be Hero vehemently declared, ripping his tiny domino mask off and throwing it in a nearby trash can. “No way. This sucks. Your way sucks. I’m absolutely not doing this your way. Look, we’re doing this my way, or it’s the highway for you.”

“Fool, I’ve got more experience, you must listen to me, and then we’ll be famous!” argued Moonflare, its silver glow intensifying as if to show irritation.

“You’ve no legs, so the highway means I’ll dunk you into the nearest river and call it a day. Now, you listen to me and you better listen well, Moonflare.” Jan’s voice finally hardened up, much like his grip on Moonflare’s hilt. “I’m neck-deep in debt, out of a job, stuck with a stupid sword that talks like a shitty Shakespearian secondary character, humiliated and ready to go and throw myself off that window, just like I should have. You either take me to your real body right now, or I’ll really make sure no one can find you. I’ll take a damn loan for a shovel and some scubba gear, dipshit. I’ll bury you at the bottom of a river or a lake, and no one will know.”

“Jan, please wait, you are clearly making a hasty decision here, your body and mind are not ready for the brunt of a legendary weapon, just follow my lead and--”

“And keep playing Cupid to victims and their would be assailants? Fuck off and fuck you. You’ve three seconds to start leading the way.”

Seeing as there was no convincing Jan, Moonflare finally complied, giving in to the demands of Captain Vir-- Jan.

———

Marble tiles, ivory pillars, and a massive sanctum lit only by mysterious floating gems that shone a dim blue. This was the Sanctum Of Moonflare, hidden deep within the underground, a place impossible to reach unless you know of it, as the path to it will capriciously twist and curve to kick you out if you don’t, leading you back to the entrance, no doubt all part of the arcane architecture that the gnomes who built this place are known for. Only Heroes, or those with the aptitude to become one, could reach this place.

“Well, it’s awfully convenient that this was located under the sewers of my city. What are the odds?”. Jan wore his trademark sleeveless white t-shirt and black sweatpants, without the silly cape and mask, of course. The majestic room clearly had gotten his attention, his eyes scanning the place thoroughly with child-like admiration, whistling at the intricate handiwork of the engravings in the ivory pillars that held the place together. “Sure looks like a place where you’d find a legend!”

“Odds had nothing to do with it.” curtly replied Moonflare. “We are no longer underneath your city. We are far, far away, in another country, actually.”

“Oh, quit it. We just went down a manhole, don’t try to embellish your shitty tale more than you need to.”

“I speak the truth, cur. This place is not subject to the physics and logic of the world. All Sanctums that hold a legendary weapon are hidden away in places that would be impossible to reach physically, and instead, one must know of the place and fulfill a certain number of rules in order to reach them. My Sanctum, as an unsung weapon, hasn’t difficult rules, as you can see.”

“I assume they are something like ‘knowing about the place’, ‘travelling underground while intending to reach it’, and ‘carrying a fragment of Moonflare’?”

The sword didn’t respond for a few seconds. “...That’s spot on, actually. Those are the three rules. How did you...?”

“Intuition. Places like this turn up in games and novels a lot. Perhaps they were inspired by the real tales of old Heroes in the first place, with no one knowing any better.”

“...The era of mass information is terrifying.” the sword lamented, still not used to the 21st century.

In the center of the massive Sanctum, a staircase led to an altar where a protrusion with a sword planted in it could be seen. As the duo approached the gorgeous marble staircase, the engravings of the ivory altar, which turned out to be runes, glowed with the same dim blue at the crystals that floated aimlessly, resonating with the fragment in the incomplete Moonflare, the structure making a noise that was simultaneously organic and mechanical.

“Well, it’s ready. Try and fail so we can get out of here.”

“...So, you are a sword in a stone that only the worthy can pull out, huh?”

“Good, seems you’re familiar with the concept. Saves me having to explain it to you. This is what I meant when I said you were not ready. Now, give it your futile go so we can go back and apply ourselves to accruing fame.”

As Jan’s hand approached the indigo hilt of the true Moonflare, just inches away before he could grip it, Jan and Moonflare were interrupted by a slow clap behind them.

“Bravo! You actually made it here. My compliments! Now, would you please turn around and face me, you thief? I’d so love to see your face.”

Surprised by the sudden personage, the duo turned around to see a man dressed in an exquisite purple suit, two long and curved blades hanging on his hips, one on each side. “What do you mean, ‘thief’? I ain’t taken a thing from you.”

“I disagree, you lout. That sword you insolently grip right now should have been mine to begin with.” he replied, his footsteps echoing in the ample hall as he approached Jan.

“Hold on... xX_KimikoFucker456_Xx!? Is that you!?”

“Kisser! xX_KimikoKisser937_Xx! Get it right!”

“So it is you, the weeb from ePay that outbid my keyboard! You asshole, I should’ve guessed only someone with an username like that would wear a tacky purple suit and carry two... Ppfff.... Two katanas! My goodness, you really are a disaster! Where’s your fedora? Shouldn’t you be at home complaining about the fairer sex?”

“These are tachi, you ignorant, insolent nobody! And the plural of ‘katana’ is ‘katana’, which you’d know if you knew anything about weaponry. You’ve got a lot of nerve to outbuy me for a Resonant Arm, but... I wager you had no clue it was one, am I wrong?”

“Oh, please, of course I kn--”

“He had no idea and everything you say is correct”

“Moonflare, shut up, the people with opposable thumbs are talking right now!”

“You’re telling me this is all because you were mad that I outbid you for a gaming keyboard? You went a got in a bidding war with me for a legendary weapon just because you couldn’t accept that someone took a blasted keyboard from you?”

“Ye.”

“Incredible.”

“Indeed, I said the same.”

xX_KimikoKisser937_Xx sighed and simply took a stance, his hand on the left tachi’s hilt. “...My name is Clement Marmaduke Solaris, and I challenge you to a duel for the Moonflare that you currently hold. In the impossible case that you defeat me, I shall gracefully relent and admit defeat, pursuing you nevermore.”

“Hey, quick question.” Jan shot at Clement as he readied his blade in a stance unlike anything Moonflare taught him during the hellish training week. “Does everyone involved with legendary weaponry and Heroes and all this jimjam talk like a loser nerd? Is it part of, like, a contract? Why do none of you speak like a fucking real person? Is it too hard to not be immediately unlikable as soon as you open your mouth?”

“...Do you accept my duel?”

“On one condition. If I win, you gotta give me the keyboard.”

“You’re still going on about that, Jan!?” the sword chastised, but Clement simply laughed.

“Very well. If I win, I get Moonflare, and if you win, you get the Palanquin Corsair K195 RGB Platinum Gaming Keyboard.”

With a nod, both men agreed to the terms of the duel, and not ten seconds passed before they were at it, the two clashing as the altar with the true Moonflare served as their judge. Eschewing all of the sword’s antiquated teachings, Jan’s fighting style was far more fluid and natural than the proper sword technique Moonflare would rather he used, involving tumbling on the ground and spinning, launching unpredictable slashes and thrusts from every direction and angle.

“Jan! What in the world is this!”

“Breakdancing! I do this a lot, hence why I was in shape before your training. Your formal style is too stiff and old, this suits me better!”

“We’ll never be famous with a silly style like this! Just use the proper style of Pilgrimbreaker, and--”

“Fame, fame, fame! It’s all you talk about! Put a sock on it, already! I don’t give a fuck!”

But just because he was doing much better didn’t mean he had the advantage. Clement’s technique was equally unorthodox, drawing his blade with lightning speed and re-sheathing it, shooting out attacks with immense force as he attacked and defended at the same time.

“Impressive, Jan. I didn’t think you’d last a second against my Iaijutsu.”

“Just like a weeb to use freakin’ Iai... But I hate to admit that you are really good at it.”

“Oh, you flatter me, but you’d seen nothing!”

Jan spun and flipped in the air to attack Clement with a smashing overhead, but the man in the suit, with practiced mastery and a cool head, blocked the attack using his tachi’s pommel, paralyzing Jan with the impact, and subsequently launching him across the room with a powerful sheath thrust to the gut, saliva and tears shooting from Jan’s face.

“Phwoo! Sh-shit... He’s really good...” Jan struggled to say as he cough and barely managed to get back on his wobbly feet, the air knocked out of him. “...He may be a loser, but he’s a strong one...!”

“Cease this child’s play and use the style I taught you already, Jan!”

“I’m afraid there’s no need to. I’m done playing.” Clement approached the duo, none the worse for wear, the pressure around him increasing tenfold compared to what it was before. He was clearly holding back, but playtime was over. “You are a disappointment, Jan. I held back to see if you truly had what it takes, but you don’t even clear the minimum requirement. That Moonflare and you are opposites, and thus, without ever agreeing on what your purpose should be, nay, in how you should even move, you’ll never unleash its true potential. Ready yourself.” Without letting go of the hilt on his left hip, Clement’s left hand now reached for the hilt on his right hip.

“...Wait, no way, are you really gonna--!”

“Hwaa!”

He was less a man and more a raging storm. With speed that defies comprehension, Clement’s attacks doubled in both velocity and quantity, employing iai strikes with both swords at the same time. If the flurry of one such blade was already difficult to keep up with, defending against this storm of steel was impossible. The sheer impact and velocity of the bladed tempest lifted Jan off the floor, silver and blood dancing around his helpless frame as his clothes were ragged to tatters, his mangled body landing square on the altar, next to Moonflare.

“H...Holy shit... I can’t fight that...”

The footsteps approached him. “Indeed, you can’t. Now, surrender the sword. You can’t keep going.”

There simply was no way for Jan to win. With a pained sigh and a bloody cough, he mustered the strength to extend Moonflare towards the Iai master. “Yeah, it makes sense for you to have it... You’ll make a better Hero than me in every way...”

“Hero...? What are you talking about?”

Jan twitched, confusion tinging his face. “Huh? Don’t you want Moonflare to become a Hero?” The statement was apparently a devastating joke, for Clement could barely contain his laughter.

“Of course not, silly. I just want Moonflare in my collection! I’m a collector of weapons who travels all across the world finding different antiques and relics, but alas, I’ve grown tired of simple mundane masterpieces. I’ve set my eyes, thus, on legendary weapons, and with Moonflare as my first, my collection will reach the next level.”

“Hark!” Moonflare interrupted, shining a furious silver. “I’m no ornament! I refuse to gather dust in your vault when there’s heroic deeds to be performed! You can simply commission a replica if you must! You have a fragment of me, as well, don’t you? You wouldn’t be able to come here otherwise.”

“Hah! Indeed, a fragment, albeit one too small to even house your consciousness. I’ve waited here for little over a week for you to show up. A weapon ought to obey, for without an owner, you are nothing. Simply sit tight in my basement as the crown jewel of my collection, O mighty Pilgrimbreaker, and cease your yapping?”

“...Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Blood oozing from his wounds, muscles tearing from the exertion and damage, Jan stood up, a new fire in his eyes. “You know, I was ok with losing to you. Moonflare’s a dick, but it’s a strong sword. If it was in the hands of a capable swordsman, no doubt it could mete out some ridiculous amounts of justice, enough to clean up the streets easily! I was ok with that Hero not being me! But you...”

“Jan...?” “Oh?”

Jan pointed at Clement. “You are no Hero! You’re just a selfish little cunt who wants to feel good by filling his basement with shiny things! I’ll never give Moonflare, the Pilgrimbreaker to you! Not such a storied blade with a bright future in front of it!”

“Hah!” Clement could only laugh. “And how, I wonder and ponder, do you expect to make good on that? You are no match for me. Will you seriously throw yourself to the grinder for these ideals? Heroes are a thing of the past, and should remain so! They have no place in the modern world!”

“Oh, fuck you. Moonflare! I finally understand Pilgrimbreaker.”

“What do you mean...?”

Jan simply took a deep breath and approached the sword stuck in the stone of the altar. “Pilgrimbreaker was a real Hero precisely because she didn’t give a damn about fame. You only held her back, but she still managed to save the world.”

“What!”

“You’re obsessed with fame. You just want the glory of other weapons and their Heroes, and I kinda do feel for you, but that’s not what Heroism is about. You know what my job was before I got fired? I was an insurance agent. I got fired because I kept giving people benefits. Insurance is supposed to be there for when tragedy strikes.”

“...” “Oh...?”

“When you have a car accident, when your parents die, when you get sick with a complex illness, insurance is supposed to cover for you. But my boss kept insisting that we find ways to screw our clients over, to bring up the small letter of a contract and fuck ‘em over! I ignored it, gave our clients our support, and that meant loses for the big wigs on top, loses they recouped by kicking me out. I thought I could make the world a better place, yet, it was another dumb pyramid scheme, the insurance game. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of all this shit!”

Jan grabbed the sword’s hilt. “Moonflare! Pilgrimbreaker was the same! Heroes are all about public image, but she kept fighting as silently and anonymously as she could! Fame didn’t cross her mind! She wanted to make a difference! I admire her, I didn’t know about her until this week, but I wholeheartedly admire her! You should be ashamed of disrespecting her style and respecting only her strength!”

“Jan, I...”

The silver glow of the blade turned gold, and strength seeped into Jan’s body. The golden glow of affinity, achieved only when user and weapon are one mind and one soul, shone brightly from both sword and man, Jan’s words striking chords Moonflare didn’t even know about.

“...Interesting. Still, you won’t be able to draw that sword. A little bit of determination isn’t enough to change the world, which is exactly the kind of power that Moonflare requires to be drawn.”

“Bite me, nerd. Moonflare! Your methods are old, but your power is real! What you need to become a Hero in the modern day is to be a baller!”

“A... A what?”

“Baller! One who can do, no, who does what needs to be done. One who can make a difference, and makes the difference! Not one with the potential, but one with the intent! If we are to change this cynic piece of shit world, you need more than tradition! You need innovation! And with this innovation, we’ll pull out your body!”

“Jan, that’s fine and all, but it’s not how it works! But...” The sword’s golden aura intensified. “Whatever! We’re doing this your way! Let’s do this!”

Jan gripped the true Moonflare with all of his might and pulled, pulled, and pulled. Even the massive power boost from synchronizing with Moonflare didn’t seem to be enough. “W-we can’t do it...! You don’t have the power to change the world just yet, it’s nothing one can achieve overnight! That’s why I didn’t want to bring you here!”

“I don’t have the power to change the world...”

The altar rumbled.

“I don’t have the wisdom, either... The tradition... The pedigree...”

Cracks began to form on the floor surrounding the altar.

“But I have the heart! And there’s no way I’m surrendering you to an egoist jackass like this! I don’t have the power to change the world, but I sure as hell have it to draw one stupid sword--!”

The floor quaked wildly.

“--And start with the small things, like the streets! I don’t have the power to change the world, but that won’t stop me from trying!”

With a sound as loud as an explosion, rocks flew everywhere and a wall of dust obscured Clement’s vision as Jan let out one final scream. When the dust finally settled some, Clement couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him, Jan stood boldly, the True Moonflare resting atop his shoulder... Still embedded to the rock and the altar, which he simply carried as if it was nothing.

“Y-you what!? You just ripped the altar off the ground?!”

“I got no time for these dumbass traditions and tests of worthiness you losers like so much! This sword is rotting away down here when it could be saving lives and making the world a better place! If I have to take it with stone and altar and all, so be it! I like clubs better than swords, anyways!”

“This is unprecedented...! No one ever ripped the whole altar along with the sword! You technically didn’t draw me, but at the same time, you practically did! Is this the modernity you speak of?”

“Damn right! I’ll drag the entirety of the Sanctum if I need to. A little altar stuck to the sword is nothing! Now, Clement... Clench your teeth.”

“You dastard...! Hand over Moonflare!”

“Take it from me, bitch!”

Clement once again turned into a cyclone of steel, his infinite slashes approaching Jan faster than a ballistic satellite could catch, but Jan stood calm, took a deep breath in, and swung the altar-sword forward, like a baseball bat, with all of his might. The holy altar clashed with the furious steel, and the steel shattered into pieces. Behind the steel was the arm that held it, and the arm, too, was shattered into pieces, mere bone unable to withstand the impact of a ton of ivory and righteous Heroism. Behind the arm that held the steel was a body, and the body was, too, shattered into pieces, the single deft swing enough to incapacitate Clement easily, his mangled body rolling away from the sheer force of the impact, a few lucky bones in his body unbroken.

“W...Wha...? H-how...?”

“The thing is, Clement, you ain’t a baller. You are simply a selfish rich boy who looked at people’s hope and saw an ornament for his wall. You could never swing this blade meant to serve the people. You ain’t shit, Clement.”

———

“Hey, we’re on the newspaper again!”

“...Is it another collateral damage report?”

“...Y-yup...”

The sword sighed.

“We sure are stopping crime and accruing fame, just, not the kind of fame I wanted...”

“Hey! We’re saving people! What if a few cars or buildings get smashed in the process? I-It stimulates the economy!”

“Maybe if you were more careful when swinging me! I have a whole boulder-like altar stuck to my body!”

“Ok, ok, mom, chill. Let’s just go home now. We keep at it like this, and crime’s a-gone in a few weeks. No one wants to risk being clobbered by an altar, after all.”

The duo jumped from rooftop to rooftop, Jan lugging the massive altar casually atop of his shoulder still, less sword and more comically oversized hammer.

“You just wanna keep gaming with that new keyboard, don’t you? I swear... You should be training to be able to draw me properly!”

“You can’t rush Heroism, Moonflare! As long as we keep being ballers, we’ll get there eventually!”

“...Heh, you’re right, Jan. Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

What is a Hero? A beacon of hope for the people? Or someone who acts for their safety in the shadows? Both are valid definitions, and many more kinds of Heroes exist, too. There’s some that are Heroes due to their lineage, while others are self-made, defying expectation and rising to greatness, all that truly matters is that you seek greatness for yourself and others, regardless of how you go about it. Some prefer the bombastic splendor of the spotlight, while others feel comfy in the shadows, but as long as you are excellent to one another and keep going and going, no doubt you’ll become a Hero in your own way, be that sticking to old tradition or carving your own path.

For Jan and Moonflare, the path to being a Hero is to be Ballers.

“...But really, stop causing collateral damage, your debt is only getting worse, you idiot.”

“Oh, shut the hell up.”

...Even if it’s expensive sometimes.

End.

#code:prompt #format:one off #length:short #tainbocuailnge #you sent me a real homerun lance

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daleisgreat · 5 years

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Slacker

Several movies in my backlog box belong to the ‘Criterion Edition’ line. For those unfamiliar it is a company that re-releases critically acclaimed films, mostly of the prestige and arthouse variety from all eras of film around the world. They get the creator’s and/or studio’s blessing and faithfully restore their video and audio as close as possible to modern standards and pack it with extras and have new case artwork in addition to bundling it with a art/production essay booklet. The only downside is these premium releases are almost double then regular physical media releases, but twice a year Criterion runs a 50% off their entire catalog sale which results in their inventory reaching tolerable pricing and why I have several Criterions in my backlog. I only covered one before with 12 Angry Men, and today I am knocking out another one with director Richard Linklater’s first major release in 1991’s Slacker (trailer). I think the best singular word to begin to break down Slacker is ‘experimental.’ There was nothing else like it before where the movie focuses on a single character for a small part of their day for usually a handful of minutes until they interact with another person and shortly thereafter the film transitions to that next character for the next few minutes as they go about their day with as minimal camera and scene cuts as possible. There are some sporadically inserted, but for the most part Linklater thrived to make this come off as one nonstop continuous cut almost similar to Birdman a few years ago.

Sometimes Slacker catches these characters in a major part of their day such as witnessing a hit-and-run or coming home in the midst of a robbery, to truly bizarre moments like encountering the strangest coffee house ever or sometimes as inconsequential as discussing recommendations at the bookstore. I love how it captures these brief ‘snapshots’ of people going about their day, especially now with a 2019 eye on a 1989/1990 setting before the Internet officially debuted and cell phone use was a blip to where it is today. I was among the last gen to come of age with remembering phone numbers, going over to a friend’s unannounced to see what was up, fanny packs, payphones and how the newspaper and local news were a major part of your day and seeing those elements in play in a handful of interactions in Slacker was eye-opening to a way of life I long forgot, for better or worse. Slacker was made on a $23,000 budget and one of the concessions with that budget and having an ensemble cast is that this cast consists largely of people who have had little to no acting experience. Watching some of the behind-the-scenes interviews on how Linklater accomplished wrangling in this large cast was by having his people in charge of casting go out in restaurants, bars and other establishments and observe individuals and ask the personalities that caught their eye if they would be interested in being in a movie. I can only imagine how bold of a risk this was because there are easily several characters throughout the film that leave a lot to be desired out of their performances, but in a way that is part of the gritty DIY charm of Slacker.

Speaking of extras, with this being a Criterion Edition it is jam-packed with them. There are three commentary tracks with Linklater doing one solo, a second one with several crew members and a third one consisting of interviews pasted together from a fair amount of the cast members to their appropriate scenes. I bounced between all three on my re-watch of the film and found Linklater’s to be naturally more insightful with a lot of production facts and a lot of personal tales on how he was going for broke on this project. The other two are interesting too, but the crew’s track has a fair amount of lulls between their crazy behind-the-scenes tales and some of the cast has entertaining bits, but with so many clips pasted together it naturally goes all over the place. There are an hour and a half of behind-the-scenes interviews and other extra features and if you found yourself wrapped up as much as I did in the nature of Slacker then nearly all of them are must-see! The following are the top highlights if you only have time for a few. The cast auditions popped me to how close they reflected their on-screen characters, there is nearly a half-hour of extended and deleted scenes worth diving into and about 20 minutes of clips and interviews from a 10th anniversary reception and panel worth checking out to see what this film has done for Linklater and his cast of mostly unknowns. There are two essays included, one is an on-disc feature where Linklater dissects ‘Slacker-culture’ and the aforementioned physical booklet is 32-pages of concept art and a couple of essays elaborating on its shoestring budget and how it took years of hustling to get noticed in the festival circuit before its success and cult hit status.

Finally there are two other completely unique Linklater projects included as extras. One is a seven minute docu-short on Linklater’s experience at a spinoff Woodstock festival called Woodshock that is a very nice homage to Heavy Metal Parking Lot. The other bonus is Linklater’s first feature film in 1988’s It’s Impossible to Learn to Plow by Reading Books. Linklater self-funded this film for $3000 and shot it entirely in Super 8 with solely himself doing the bulk of the acting as he travels across the country and the film taking in Linklater’s character doing a lot of mundane, everyday tasks. Another interesting experimental piece, but lacks the intrigue and spontaneity that Slacker brings to the table. This one also has a Linklater commentary track that I watched it with and I highly recommend you do so to help with the many non-dialogue scenes in Plow. Linklater is one of my favorite directors, and I say that with only seeing about half of his films. I have a few other Criterion Editions of his other films that I have not seen yet and hope to get to them sooner than later. If you are familiar with some of his other movies like Boyhood then you should know his films go against the grain of what usually hits theaters and not to go into his films with the standard three act expectation. I highly recommend Slacker with the asterisk that it is the ideal movie to sit down with the getting ready to relax with it on in the background before you gradually get reeled in to see which way this unpredictable ball of string unravels next.

Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hercules: Reborn Hitman Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

#random movie #richard linklater #slacker

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roidespd-blog · 5 years

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Chapter Eighteen : LE MARIAGE POUR TOUS

Part Two of the extensively-researched and exhausting journey through France and its Queer citizens through time. As we explored France’s Past with Queer History yesterday, Today is about that very special time of 2012–2013 with the passing of Same-Sex Marriage. Tomorrow, our present and future. In this article, we’ll explore how we came to same-sex marriage, the opposition, the climate of the time and how much of a cunt you are if you ever thought “yeah, now we have same sex marriage, we can chill”.

As most of you must know by now, Same-sex marriage has been legal in France since May 18, 2013. It became the thirteenth country worldwide to allow same-sex couples to marry (out of 28 as of 2019). Unfortunately, even in a country that promotes itself as gay-friendly, it wasn’t an easy fight. And here are the highlights.

With the implementation of the PACS in 1999, the country was somewhat at peace with LGBTQ+ rights. It didn’t last long though. On June 5, 2004, Mayor of Bègles and former Green Party Presidential Candidate Noël Mamère conducted a same-sex marriage ceremony for two men. The Minister of Justice later declared the union null and void. The case went up to the Court of Cassation and the European Court of Human Rights, to zero positive results and Mamère was suspended from his functions.

In 2006, as the PACS was getting more and more rights, a committee on the “Report of the Family and the Rights of Children” argued that marriage, adoption and medically assisted reproduction for same-sex couples were still out of the question.

Flashforward to 2011. While the government was no longer trying to give more rights to LGBTQ+ people (it should be noted that only the L and G were in the public’s mind. Maybe a little L but with even less consideration), LGBT organizations decided to go the Constitutional Council and ask a review of same-sex marriage as unconstitutional. The demand was rejected and the question was send to the Parliament. On June 14th, the Assembly voted 293–222 NO to same-sex marriage. Socialists deputies were “mostly” in favor of the law and just like that, as gay rights were a major player in the 1981 presidential election, the same happened with the 2012 legislative AND presidential campaigns.

2012 AND ITS PROMISES

Power-thirsty candidate François Hollande announced during his presidential campaign his support for same-sex marriage and adoption for same-sex couples. To be fair, Hollande was already a vocal supporter of those rights back in 2004, while his partner at the time, Ségolène Royal, was less into it. Queer people had their cheerleader and, no spoilers here, Hollande won the election on May 6th, 2012. With a absolute majority at the Assembly a few weeks later came a promise of a bill no later than spring of 2013. The first draft was submitted to Parliament on November 7, 2012. And that’s when…

BIGGOT’S SHIT HIT THE FAN

November 17th, 2012 saw the creation a collective called “La Manif’ Pour Tous” (or MPF) as a response to the new government’s plea for same-sex marriage. Made mostly of faith-based associations (37 to be exact), it was founded by Frigide Barjot, Ludivine de la Rochère and Albéric Dumont. Yep, if you feel the need to thank anyone for feeling like a piece of shit back in 2013, those three seem like the main recipients.

I was going to do a portrait of Frigide Bardot but on second thoughts, she’s so not worth it. The self-proclaimed “press manager of Jesus” also created the ‘Collectif de l’Humanité Durable” which campaigns against abortion and euthanasia rights. Her quotes are as intelligent as “Same-sex marriages are like weddings between animals” and she’s a ridiculous person.

So, back to MPF. Did you know that of those 37 organizations, Le Monde found out that 22 of them did not exist or were just “empty shells” associations ? Hmm. Funny, right ? Anyway, on November 17th, the first manifestation is organized. Around 70,000 people took to the street with slogans like “La Famille, Patrimoine de l’Humain”, “Un Papa, un Maman, on ne ment pas aux enfants” or “Le Gender, c’est pas mon Genre”. What a bunch of clever little Jesus Freaks.

A second manifestation is put together on January 13th, 2013. This time, sources talk to close to 340,000 people all around Paris. Marine LePen was there, all smiling and happy. CUNT. A month later, 700,000 signatures were on a petition sent to the Conseil Economique, Social et Environnemental (CESE). The demands of the Manif pour Tous were rejected by the Tribunal Administratif of Paris, which dimmed it invalid, the Cour d’Appel of Paris and finally the Conseil d’Etat.

Third manifestation on March 24th. 300,000 people attended while the Right Party (UMP) joined the march.

On the fourth manifestation on April 21st, only 45,000 people were present, showing a slowing down of the bigoted movement. The Manif Pour Tous was tearing itself apart from the inside, with Frigite Bardot becoming a too crazy-and-permanent presence in the media and a few important organizations leaving the show, like Printemps Français.

Did you know that the Manif pour Tous was still active and is now a political party ? More on that tomorrow.

Nothing about that was funny. More than dramatic, it was a scary time for Queer People as La Manif pour Tous instigated a new rule to the game of life.

THE RIGHT TO HATE

It became apparent in 2013 that parts of the country was liberating themselves from its political correctness that came with the Aids Epidemic et the arrival of the PACS. A report from May 2014 announced a 78% gain in homophobic slurs and attacks in 2013. In total, 3500 cases were reported to the police at some point during the year. A third of those cases were linked to the Manif pour Tous. The media saturation on the subject made it an everyday debate from Monday to Sunday, from the workplace to the dinner table. A Queer person was being attacked every two days, mostly in public places.

Quote from the report “victims consider that the exposure to aggressive rhetorics gave the attackers a sense of encouragement, a feeling of doing the right thing, and favorable impunity when it came to act”. Queer people were forced back in the closet in some way, as just holding your partner’s hand or kissing in public could land you in the hospital.

Example : A lesbian couple in Lyon cuddled on the subway. A young homophobe saw that, called them “disgusting lesbians, whores, sluts, bitches” and hit them both. Example : On April 7th, 2013, the very public bashing of Wildred de Brujin while he was walking with his boyfriend in the streets of Paris (see article “Queer Community vs Violence”). Example : I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY. I, myself, was punched in the face in my car while surrounded by a group of thugs who didn’t like the fact that two guys were in a car talking in their neighborhood. They asked us “What are you doing here?”. We’re talking, what does it look like ? They said “We don’t want people like you around here, fuck off”. What people ? People who talk ? My window was open just enough for one of them to put his fist in my face. I turned the engine on, open the door wild to push them away and ran away. My friend was living on that street and we had to wait at least half an hour before coming back and letting him go home. I was furious. I kept on driving, my hands were shaking. I stopped the car twice. The first time, to calm myself down as I was about to faint from anger. The second time, I leaned over to my friend — who was just a friend — and kissed him for a full minute, tongue and all, and said “At least now, we were attacked for a reason”.

Social Media was full of openly homophobic tweets and Facebook posts. Poetic phrases like “Beeeeeeeeeeurk dans mes amis sur Facebook y’a une gouine”, “#BrulonsLesPD”, “#LesGaysNeSontPasHumainsCar” or “#LaFranceSansGays”. And don’t think for one second that the anonymity of the internet was the main reason for those statements. They were, but it was so bad back then, you would still hear them out loud ON THE FUCKING STREET.

AND THEN IT HAPPENED

On February 2, 2013, The Assembly approved the first article of the bill, legalization of same-sex marriage, 249 to 97. Opponents then introduced more than 5,000 amendments to the bill in order to slow down its passage. By February 12, the bill as a whole won 329–229 and was sent to the Senate. Same story starting there starting April 4th. First article approved 179–157. By April 23rd, with minor amendments, the bill came on top with 331–225. François Hollande promulgated the bill, commonly known as “Loi Taubira” in reference to its main sponsor, as law on May 18th, 2013. The first same-sex marriage took place in Montpellier on May 29.

146 mayors challenged the law and refused to officiate marriages for same-sex couples. Just so you know, a refusal to implement is considered discrimination based on sexual orientation and is punishable with up to 5 years imprisonment and a 75,000 euros fine. Their cases were send to the European Court of Human Rights in vain, as their were dismissed in October 2018. As of 2018, 40,000 same-sex marriages have been celebrated in France, approximately 3.5% of all French marriages in the 5-year time frame.

THE FIGHT HAS JUST BEGUN. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT ?

We talked laws. We talked Homophobia. We talked Fear. I know want to share an impression of the Post-Mariage pour Tous situation that I’ve shared many times with friends, who mostly agree with me. It seemed that after the gigantic milestone was sealed and done, and the celebrations of the 2013 pride went according to plan, there was some sort of general drop of shoulders from Gays and Lesbians all around the country. The common attitude felt like an extension of the commonly heterosexual thought that now that we had marriage, we were all good and equal under the law. Well, absofuckinlutly not. While we have the right to marry and adopt as Queer couples, it didn’t come with IVF (In Vitro Fertilisation) for lesbian couples or any types of surrogacy for same-sex couples. Also, Gay men are still discriminated by the Law by not being able to give blood unless we’re a year abstinent. And for fuck’s sake, what about Trans rights ? Don’t you care about your Trans brothers and sisters ? That’s a story for tomorrow. Just know, dear Queer who is totally satisfied by the current situation, now that you have what you want, isn’t time to focus on those who don’t ? Wouldn’t be fair for this year’s pride to be all about parts of the community who is still search for their right to exist ?

See you then.

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neverisalongtime-ja-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 29: 90’s babe

I know I'm uploading super late today but the internet connection has been so bad the whole day. But here it is: chapter 29!

Thank you so much to everyone who write me here and on Instagram! It makes my heart so happy!

Remember to visit Anastasia’s IG profile:

Anastasia_Truman ❤️️

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥

Read chapter 28

Before the show in San Diego, Anastasia discovered a sweet surprise at her dressing room in the Valley View Casino Center. It was filled with red roses, at least five huge bouquets. She was thrilled, although she didn’t like roses. She walked to the flowers and spotted a small card, she read it was actually Peyton who sent them to Mandy. Anastasia couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, she was feeling so happy by the relationship her friend had until she heard a voice behind her that brought her back to earth.

- Wow, what’s all this? – Josh asked entering the room.

- Someone sent flowers – She said trying to ignore him and hiding part of the story.

- But… roses? You hate roses – He said making Anastasia remember how well he knew her – You only like wild flowers, you always say that roses are basic and…

- Yes, Josh, I know what I said before – She cut him off – But this is a nice thing.

- Are you seeing someone? – He went straight forward.

- Well… you could say so – She said lying and not knowing why.

- Well, this guy doesn’t know you at all. He didn’t investigate you like I did.

- What?! Investigate me? – She asked kind of annoyed.

- Yeah, and one of the first things I learned about you is that you hate roses – Josh said smiling and Anastasia was confused by the direction of this conversation – By the way I didn’t have the chance to ask you, but what did you think about Dot Hacker’s new record?

- I liked it so much I destroyed my turntable listening to it – She said even more confused by the question.

- How come?

- Because of the messages in the songs. I was angry – Maybe this was the moment for them to talk straight.

- Sorry to hear that – Was all that Josh managed to say – Your turntable was a historic piece.

- Josh, you wrote songs about feeling bad in our relationship, about how it wasn’t working, but you never talked to me about it! – There she was, giving her attention to the white elephant in the room.

- I know and I can’t apologize to you enough – Josh said looking to the floor like he always did when he was ashamed. - But of all the people in the world, you know how great it is to put your feelings in a song. I wrote about loving you too.

- I know and it made everything much more confusing – Anastasia said angry.

- I’m sorry… - Josh couldn’t finish his sentence because Mandy entered the room screaming.

- Oh my God! What is this? – She asked looking at the flowers and realizing Josh’s presence

- It wasn’t me – He said looking at Mandy.

- It’s obvious – She said taking the card from Anastasia’s hands. Now Josh would know the truth – They are from Peyton! – Mandy said overly excited – Oh my God! That little fucker! I love him so much! – She screamed.

Anastasia saw Josh smiling wide, almost laughing, and then leaving. She felt so stupid.

- Josh thought they were for me – Anastasia told Mandy.

- Sweetie! Oh God! Sorry! – Mandy said checking the roses – I would have followed the lead.

- Don’t worry, that would have been childish – Anastasia said laughing.

After the show that night everyone was ready for a long break. They’d be out for about three weeks. Anastasia was going to be busy for the next few days, her birthday was coming up and she was preparing a big party to turn 28. She followed Mandy’s advice and invited Alex but he respectfully declined saying that he needed to go back to Miami for work. She felt disappointed but totally understood; that’s a doctor’s lifestyle.

One Friday in Los Angeles, with the party a week away, Nick invited Anastasia to a bar where he, Eric and some friends were going to see a local band play. Mandy joined her as Peyton was extremely busy with the start of the baseball season. It was a nice bar in Pasadena and the band played a soft rock kind of music, they were good and Anastasia realized they could be a great add to her label. The night was being fun and she was chatting with Eric’s friends including Clint and Jonathan. Hannah was there too and suddenly all the happiness went to hell when she saw Josh entering the place holding hands with Lauren; she was wearing the tightest pony tail in history and a pair of black leather pants with a pink crop top and, again, she thought how despair the two looked together. She felt Mandy’s arms around her as they walked away to avoid them.

- How can she be so tacky? – Mandy said while ordering two mojitos at the bar.

- I don’t wanna make this sound like I’m jealous but they aren’t meant for each other! – Anastasia said.

- I know and you are jealous anyway – Mandy said giving Anastasia her glass.

- What?! – Anastasia asked.

- It’s normal – Mandy said – I know you are over it, but it’s normal to have those feelings.

- I’m not jealous! – Anastasia screamed as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Josh and Lauren standing there and that made her furious.

- Hi! – Josh said. How dare he flaunt Lauren in Anastasia’s face?

- How are you? – Anastasia asked without any emotion.

- We wanted to say hi! – Lauren said with her annoying voice – Because I’m a huge fan and I think I already told you that and I’m so happy you are friends with Josh – Anastasia could hear Mandy burst into laughter behind her.

- Oh well… hi! – Anastasia said.

- Do you want something to drink? – Mandy asked Lauren to be polite.

- Oh no. I’m on an alcohol-free diet – Lauren asked as Josh turned to talk with one of his friends leaving them in this awkward conversation.

- Is that the Pre-Euthanasia Diet? – Anastasia asked finding her sarcastic spot - ‘Cuz that would be the only way I’ll be alcohol free. If I was going to die.

- Be real, not even in that moment would you knock off alcohol – Mandy said to Anastasia laughing.

- Do you have any idea how many calories alcohol has? – Lauren asked really concerned, demonstrating she didn’t understand sarcasm.

- Lauren, my friend, you are funny – Anastasia put a hand on Lauren’s right shoulder - and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know what euthanasia is. Live life! Have fun! Drink the alcohol! Practice euthanasia! – She and Mandy laughed hard and Lauren tried to follow them laughing too but not knowing what about.

- Ok, we’ll see you around, girls – Josh said realizing the situation and taking Lauren far.

- That was so epic! – A voice said behind Anastasia and she saw Kelly.

- Your fucking hair! – Anastasia screamed touching Kelly’s hair which was lavender now.

- Welcome to the cool hair color club! – Mandy said hugging Kelly.

- I need one of those mojitos because I’m not on the Pre-Euthanasia Diet – The three friends burst into a hard and loud laugh.

The party was almost set and Anastasia’s birthday – April 1st – was a Saturday which made everything more perfect. The theme of the night was the 90’s and everyone should dress according to that decade. Mark prepared a bunch of amazing 90’s mixes and Barbara took care of the food and the drinks. The party was going to be held at Anastasia’s home in Beverly Hills, she hasn’t thrown a party there since she was in college. She and Mandy were really excited for their outfits: plaid miniskirts, tight sweaters, thigh-high socks and heeled ankle boots, combat style, an outfit that would had made Cher Horowitz burn with envy.

When Anastasia got downstairs a nice group of friends and family were already there: her dad, Mark and Stephanie (who was looking amazing with a long spaghetti-strap dress with a daisy print), Barbara and even Chad, his wife and Anthony made it to the party. Flea couldn’t go but Clara could make it, she brought her boyfriend with her; many high school friends were there too and some from college and in a corner of her backyard she saw a lavender head and next to her she spotted Josh, joined by Nick, Eric, Hannah and thankfully no Lauren to be seen. That would have been a slap in her face (seeing Lauren there), but Josh didn’t play that low.

Everyone greeted Anastasia and praised her outfit choice, especially Josh who couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. That made her feel powerful but she didn’t let it go to her head. She was having too much fun singing TLC songs with Mandy and Kelly while Josh recorded them with his phone. Everyone was having a nice time. But suddenly, she found herself alone with Josh in a corner of the backyard. She felt nervous so she started to talk about anything.

- I wanted to wear a cute Stones’ t-shirt I own but then I remember I left it at your house. I never went to pick up my stuff from your place, sorry about that – Anastasia said.

- Don’t worry, they’re still there for whenever you want to come by – Josh said – Do you have the stuff I left here?

- No. I threw it away – Anastasia said and Josh looked surprised – Joking, Mandy put it in a box in the basement and that’s how I knew I had a basement!

- What? – Josh laughed.

- I always knew there was one extra door in this house – She was barely sober by that moment.

- You’re crazy – Josh was laughing hard – Hey, come with me so I can give you your gifts.

And just like that, without any warning, Josh took her right hand and walked her out of the house to his car: He opened the trunk and two big boxes laid there, wrapped in black wrapping paper with a silver moon print and silver bows on top.

- You need to open them now – Josh said – I want you to do it here, with no one around.

- Really? – She looked at him.

He nodded as she proceeded to open the boxes. She chose the small one first, even though it was still big, tearing the paper like a small kid on Christmas, it was a new turntable, all crystal clear, perfect size.

- It was my fault you destroyed yours, so… - Josh said scratching his head with his free hand (he had his drink in the other) – It’s the same I have at home, it sounds like heaven.

She smiled and looked at the other box, it was larger and she destroyed the paper with little patience. It was a guitar case. Josh helped put it near her on the trunk so she could open it. It was dark outside but she could see that the case was made in dark blue synthetic leather and had a pattern of half-moons all over.

- I know you like moons – He said smiling.

Anastasia’s chin went straight to the floor when she opened the case. It was a custom made Fender Stratocaster guitar, with a mirror finish and a bird and a flower print. The scratch plate was made in mother-of-pearl. It was the most beautiful guitar she had ever seen.

- Look at this – Josh said pointing at the head were her name was engraved in gold.

- Josh, this is beautiful! – She picked the guitar, the strap had moons all over too – I have no words.

- Just say thanks and let’s go back to the party – Josh took the guitar and placed it on the case, but Anastasia couldn’t take it anymore and hugged him. She hugged him so tightly while tears started to run from her eyes – Don’t cry!

- It’s just that this is so beautiful! – She said – When did you have it made?

- Around October – He answered.

- Is this because I gave you a custom made guitar too?

- No! Not at all. I just thought that it was going to be something you would appreciate. I wanted it to be ready for Christmas, but the team couldn’t do it so I saved it for your birthday.

- This is so special! – She was feeling all kinds of things inside her brain by that moment and mixed with alcohol it made more tears run down her face.

- You are special – He said and took her by her chin to wipe her tears away.

They locked eyes and stared at each other for what it seemed an eternity. Anastasia wanted to kiss Josh but she knew it wasn’t the most intelligent thing to do. However, he surprised her coming closer and joining his lips with her. She missed him, she missed that. Josh gave her the most sweet, caring kiss she had had in a long time. Not even when they were a couple did he kiss her that way. It was slow but full of passion. Josh broke away and ran his thumb over Anastasia’s lips, looking into her eyes with desire.

- I think we should go back inside – He was the first to talk, breaking the spell.

- Yes – She agreed, breathing heavily. She attempted to grab her gifts but Josh stopped her.

- Don’t worry, I’ll carry them inside before I leave, later.

Anastasia smiled and walked back to the house without even noticing if Josh was following her. She was shocked, smiling like she hadn’t smiled in weeks. She decided to not say anything to anyone, to keep the surprise for later but she was the one about to be surprised again that night.

Later, when most of the guest had already left, she was inside the living room when her father approached her.

- Come with me – An’s dad said – I have a surprise for you.

He walked with her to the garden where she saw Mark, Stephanie, Nick, Eric, Hannah, Kelly, Josh, Barbara, Anthony, Mandy, Peyton, Clara and her boyfriend, Chad and his wife and a blond lady in the middle of them. Anastasia recognized her and stood still abruptly. She couldn’t believe it, it was Stevie Nicks, wearing the most gorgeous blue shawl she had ever seen, with fringes all over. Anastasia looked at his father who laughed because she must have the most stupid look on her face by now. Stevie walked towards her and gave the birthday girl a warm hug; it was just how she imagined it would be. Anastasia wasn’t a girl with idols and she wasn’t a fan of anything, but Stevie Nicks was in a whole other level. She touched Stevie’s face, then regretted it and said sorry, but the “White Witch,” as some called Nicks, just laughed.

- Mister Nick here told me it was your birthday – Stevie said – And I wanted to come and say hi since I heard you are a big fan.

- The biggest! – She said without thinking about it and everyone laughed. Anastasia could see Mandy was crying and smiling.

- I must admit that I’m your fan too – Stevie said – I love your music, it’s so pure and the way you sing it is magical.

- I can’t believe you are saying this – Anastasia said – Have you listened to us?

- All your records – Stevie answered smiling.

- Shut up! – Anastasia smiled wider.

- I think we should go inside and play some music – Anastasia’s dad said – Would you like that? – She didn’t answer; instead she jumped into his arms giving him a big hug.

Once everyone found a place in the living room, Nick handle a guitar to Stevie and Anastasia sat next to her in the big central couch. Stevie started to play the first notes of “Landslide” and the midnight-blue-haired girl looked at Josh instantly, he smiled tenderly at her. Both singers recited every word on that song. After that “Dreams” followed, then it was the turn for “Sara,” in “Gypsy” Stevie gave the guitar to An, she played and they finished with everyone singing along to “The Chain.”

That was the best birthday Anastasia could have had, without a doubt. She went to sleep that night with the biggest smile on her face and next morning when she walked downstairs and saw Josh’s gifts near her kitchen that smile became wider.

But, above all, she wasn’t going to get over that fact that Stevie “Dame” Nicks had been at her place the night before to serenade her on her birthday. That was the best gift of all without a doubt.

Read chapter 30

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