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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Wait you have Lilia listed as one of the interact-able family members. Do you intend to have Lilia show up as Silver’s father in disguise like wearing a mustache or perhaps being in a different form? I’ve seen people say something about a “true form”, but so far in-game (english server and im stuck at the sectors of book 6) I haven’t seen anything that suggests Lilia has altered his form to blend in? May I ask how you plan to do Silver’s father requests?

[Referencing this blog event!]

I believe "true form” Lilia is a popular fandom headcanon. It’s not explicitly said that he has a different form, it’s something fans have speculated about due to various lines dropped by Diasomnia (ie Malleus says in one of his chats that Lilia is in a history book yet no one recognizes him but Malleus, Sebek and Silver imply during one of the Halloween events that back in the Briar Valley Lilia was most terrifying for the holiday, etc). Some fans also think that Lilia has purposefully changed his appearance to “fit in” better as a high school student while at NRC, and/or due to a plot point brought up in episode 7 (no spoilers though).

Rather than outright say how I'm going to present Lilia for NRC Family Day, I think it'd be more fun to explain via creative writing ^^ so enjoy the pre-Family Day preparations in Diasomnia~

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Silver leaned against the door frame, his sight set on the cluttered bedroom of his vice dorm leader. Tonight, it was even messier than usual, with outfits, accessories, and bottles of nail polish strewn on the desk and floor. Instruments and antiques were knocked over, drawers and chests open and their contents splayed out. It looked as though a storm had torn through the area--but no, this was the calm before the storm.

Lilia practically had the entire upper half of his body shoved deep into the abyss that was his closet, fishing around with his hands to retrieve more lost treasures from within. He popped out with two hangers, one bearing a sharp suit and the other, a neon graphic T-shirt.

"What do you think, Silver? Do you prefer the formal look, or do you think casual wear will do?" Lilia's deep ruby eyes were absolutely effervescent, gleaming like starlight. "Or perhaps I could dust off the old battle armor for this occasion!”

Silver gathered his courage and started. "Father—”

“No, you’re right. It may be too much cuteness for their poor little hearts to take!” He set down both sets of clothing on his bed and paused. “Do you think security will at least let me bring in my cleaver? It could make for a good icebreaker with the other parents."

“I don’t think so. But more importantly, father—”

“Ah, how disappointing. There’s no help for it, I suppose.

"I know!” Lilia suddenly brought a fist down into an open palm. His teeth peeked out from behind his growing smile. “I could bake a little something to pass out to the others in attendance.”

He bounced over to Silver, clasping his hands in his own. The aura radiating from Lilia was like that of a coiled spring, packed with energy waiting to be let loose. “I'm so excited for Family Day, aren't you? There’s still so much left to do.”

Silver’s voice came firm, the strike of a blade against a shield.

“Father.”

“… Oh dear.” Lilia frowned, peering up into his son’s face. “Have I said something to upset you?”

Regret set in. Silver let the fierceness in his gaze fade. “No, not at all. I’m happy to see you so eager.”

“Then whatever is the matter?” Lilia playfully nudged him on the arm. “Come, you can confide in your old man.”

“I would like nothing more than for you to be at my side for Family Day. It’s just…” A hesitation. “It will be difficult for you to pass as my father without the other students also recognizing you as their classmate. That may put you in a compromising position—and I don't wish to trouble you for my own sake.

Before Lilia could respond, a thunderous shout cut in. A young man, broad-shouldered and hulking, muscled into the doorway.

"WHAT'S THIS NOW?!" Sebek bellowed. "I cannot believe you, Silver!! You have the gall to barr Lilia-sama from attending a school function?!"

"My, Sebek. How kind of you to join us," Lilia raised his brows in an exaggerated manner, "though I didn't take you for an eavesdropper."

The first year's expression fell. He sheepishly fumbled for the right words. "M-My sincerest apologies!! I was doing my usual round of evening patrols and happened to overhear... I-I could not help but cry out against such an injustice...!! I-It will not happen again, sir!!"

The ancient fae chuckled. "I kid. You're fine, Sebek. However, I believe that Silver is right to be concerned. It will make matters challenging to say the least if I have to play both the role of father and high school student.

"Even so, it is a guardian's job is to be there for his child. I shan't let another year pass where I sit on the sidelines twiddling my thumbs while Silver is left on his lonesome."

"Another year?" Sebek cast his fellow knight a curious look.

"You weren't enrolled at NRC yet, so you wouldn't know." Silver deadpanned, a sigh escaping him. "Father also insisted he would attend Family Day then. He attempted to sneak into the event while wearing a pair of gag glasses... and was promptly ejected from the premises. It was mistaken as an ill-mannered prank by staff and students alike."

"Why, the NERVE of them!! They should be honored that a decorated general and advisor to the queen would humble himself by attending their gathering!!"

"I don't think that was the issue."

"It won’t happen again. I must put together a cleverer disguise this time!" Lilia glanced at the items scattered around his room. "Hmm, maybe I should start by recoloring my hair to match Silver's. A trim may also be in order."

"Wh-What?! Grrr... What luck you have, Silver!! What I'd give to have a matching head of hair with Lilia-sama!!" Sebek clenched a fist to contain his frustration.

"Your family is also visiting Sage's Island for Family Day, aren't they?" Silver smiled softly, his tone reassuring. "You won't be left out of anything."

"Hnngh... That's exactly what I'm afraid of!!" Sebek cradled his head in his hands. "I'd be less inclined to protest were it only my mother and my grandfather in attendance, but I don't know how to act around that man!! Worse yet, when I think of that man making his presence known to the other humans...!!"

He shuddered, unable to complete his sentence.

Silver raised a brow. "... You mean your father?"

"STOP, DON'T SPEAK THE THOUGHT INTO EXISTENCE!!"

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s family.”

“WHO SAID I WAS EMBARRASSED?! I-I’M NOTHING OF THE SORT!! DON’T BE SO PRESUMPTUOUS, SILVER!!”

Lilia laughed, shaking his head. "Lighten up, boys! It'll be a fun time, you'll see. I'm looking forward to catching up with Baul and the others myself."

“Will you really be able to blend in so easily? You have a very distinctive appearance. It would be hard to change you into someone entirely new and then change you back before the next day.”

“Th-That’s right!!” Sebek quickly added relieved to change the topic. “Lilia-sama oozes charm from every pore in his body! It would take considerable effort to conceal his handsomeness!!”

“... I see. So that's what this is about."

A sudden chill descended upon the room. Even the green flames that lit up the space seemed to quiver and shrink in the oppressive cold.

"Malleus," Lilia said with ease.

"Lilia." Their liege nodded coolly as he slipped out of the darkness and into view. "Silver, Sebek. It seems I wasn't invited to this lively little discussion. Please, don't stop on my account. Continue."

The sarcasm of his words was tinged with the subtly bitter pang of jealousy. A half joke, and also a half truth.

The trio fell back and parted, granting space to him. Sebek looked positively mortified—the second time that night.

“Y-Young master!! We had no intention of leaving you out of… Th-This was completely impromptu!! I beg of you, please forgive this Sebek for his impudence!!!”

“Did we disturb your sleep, sir?” Silver asked. He was as steady and soft as a lullaby, a contrast to his partner.

Malleus raised a hand—a silent command to them to stand down, to be at ease. “I only sought to investigate the tumult coming from this area. Sound has a way of traveling in these halls, and it makes a fairy curious.”

“Don’t mind us, we’re all riled up for tomorrow. Scheming for it, you know.” Lilia beamed. “That reminds me! Maleficia herself will be in attendance this year. I made certain the message got to her. Can’t risk the invite getting lost in the mail again!

“It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon event—it’s not every day when the stars align and those stuffy advisors grant her leeway in her duties. You must be just as excited as we are.”

Malleus smiled with his eyes more than with his mouth. They shone with wonder and quiet reverence. “It will be a joy to host grandmother at Night Raven College.”

“It will be a most wonderful reunion!” Lilia agreed. “Oh, idea: what if I wore something dark and atmospheric in honor of the royal family? I know I have a spiked choker and boots lying somewhere around here…“

Malleus blinked. “Grandmother may appreciate that—but attire alone will not help you pass for Family Day to the others.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that.”

Beside Silver, Sebek stubbornly harrumphed. “Lilia-sama shouldn’t have to conform to the expectations of mere humans!!”

“There’s still time to sort out a solution,” Lilia pointed out cheerfully. “Come hell or high water, I want to be there for my family.”

“Yes, your resolve is crystal clear. It would be a shame if you could not attend.”

Malleus ran a hand along an open drawer. It was filled with knick-knacks, from beaded jewelry to talismans. Tucked between a sizable glass orb and a carving of a gingerbread man was a furry tuft. “Pray tell, what did you wear for entry last time?”

“It was a pair of those gag glasses! It had a big nose and these fluffy fake eyebrows and mustache. Why do you ask?”

Malleus hooked a finger on the furry tuft and lifted. With it came a bulbous blob of rubber attached to thick frames.

“This?”

Malleus produced thick frames from the drawer. They were every bit as ridiculous off of a face as it was on one. Strange—the glasses seemed to glow an eerie green, but when Silver rubbed his eyes and looked again, they were normal.

“Exactly those!!” Lilia reached for the spectacles with a droll laugh. “Learned the hard way that they aren’t much use for covert operations. Still, I’ll always have a soft spot for these.”

“Who is to say that it will stay that way forever?”

“Huh?”

The trio stared at their prince. Malleus answered them with a mysterious smile.

“Who is to say,” he said with a mischievous flash of teeth, “that you cannot become whomsoever you desire?”

“Malleus… You didn’t…” Lilia squinted at the glasses. “Did you cast an enchantment on these just now?”

“The glow,” Silver realized. “I didn’t just daydream it.”

“Then that was…!”

“I wove a temporary illusion spell and cloaking magic into them. So long as you wear those glasses, you will appear as if like a dream in the eyes of those who look upon you. Your face, your hair—they’re altered, the details are scrambled and made challenging to pin down. In other words, you will not be recognized as ‘Lilia Vanrouge’.”

“OOOH!!” Sebek glowed with awe. “The young master has bestowed a blessing to you, Lilia-sama!! What an honor!!”

“Congratulations, father. That’s great news.”

“Malleus…” Lilia stopped, and tried again. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, but are you sure it’s alright for you to hand me such a handy item?”

“It only lasts until the stroke of midnight tomorrow.” The warning was casual, yet not unkind. “Go to Family Day, Lilia. Enjoy yourself. Spend time with those you love most—”

Malleus was tackled halfway through his speech. The wind in him sailed out as small arms wrapped around him, then tugged Silver and Sebek close too.

“Silly thing, you’re one of them,” Lilia tutted. “All of you are. Where would I be without my family here in Diasomnia?”

#Diasomnia #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #question #notes from the writing raven #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #NRC Family Day #Yes I made a Lilo and Stitch reference #disney twisted wonderland

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steampunkforever · 1 year

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I wish this secret social media only used by good people subconsciously referenced when discussing the importance of platforms and social issues and the denial of humanity’s inherent evil and YouTube for children existed. Not for rhetorical reasons but because I want to talk about how botched evil peoples plans were without also providing a how to guide for people who can get the wrong idea.

You should never tell a terrorist he’s mixing his napalm wrong (see officer I’m being good can I have my cookie now) but as someone previously active in a field where the hobby was nitpicking each others execution, it’s hard seeing a job done sloppily.

When the president spreads misinformation by stating that you can’t buy a machine gun, a flamethrower, or a bazooka, it’s easy to refute the machine gun part. In America it’s perfectly legal to buy a machine gun after paying a needlessly expensive tax and doing some pesky paperwork.

If paperwork cramps your style, you can make one (less legally) at home with basic household power tools over the course of a couple days, and most of the time the kind of people that’d do that pose very little threat to society outside of inflating the prices on jet boat superchargers. The bottom line is that most people in the US possessing a machine gun with its serial numbers intact have been vetted and those who purchased it as assorted tubing from Ace Hardware are too busy rebuilding their fan boats to be a credible threat, and so educating the public on how to fill out the federal forms on select-fire rifles is ethically fine.

The flamethrower and bazooka statements are something you need to be careful when discussing because you can buy those much easier than a gun and with no annoying paperwork in America. Any given child can harness the power of her mothers credit card, styrofoam mixed with gasoline, and the ingenuity of a weird young girl and buy herself the means to shoot napalm 20+ feet onto her neighbors roof. This is a good thing but also probably not something you should be advertising when talking about the failures of serial arsonists and how you could do it better.

Discussing these deadlier weapons isn’t something you want spreading to the wrong crowd, as letting a bad person know how to do their job better is not good and letting the government know that it’s citizens own cool things is even worse. Flamethrowers and bazookas fall somewhere in the lines of “the people who already have these aren’t being evil with them so why stir the pot” so you’ve gotta self censor before idle discussion of a bad guys screwup is gonna turn into next weeks news item.

To diary about these things sounds like a good compromise except I have ideas about banks and the FBI has a penchant for getting weird about “idle scuttlebutt” and turning it into “intent.” Unfortunately for them the crime I’m most “intent” on is doubling the speed limit, something out of their jurisdiction as I’m not doing it while crossing state lines. Good thing I can discuss it on my good people only social media site.

Look! User @quanticoenjoyer is chiming in with the suggestion that I try one of those coast-to-coast cannonball runs and drop my plans into the chat. I don’t see why I shouldn’t publicly discuss any of this on a website whose security measures consist of a login page stating “no baddies allowed.”

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justplainwhump · 8 months

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Cemetery

I don't exactly know where this came from, but this has been written for @flashfictionfridayofficial, "An Empty Grave".

Part of my Angel series, set far into her recovery. Dedicated to @winedark-whump.

Content / warnings: Referenced presumed death, past death of a loved one, grief, memory loss due to conditioning/brainwashing, identity struggles, recovery. Set in the BBU multiverse.

Making Angel, the documentary about her was called. Angel hadn't watched it. Others had, Miguel had, and her lawyer. They said it was well done, empathetic but not too much, clear and direct, but not too intrusive. So she'd nodded, and given her approval.

She had however listened to the transcript, at some point. Not the film's audio, but her screen reader with the written transcript, unemotional and distanced. Even filtered as much as possible through the screen reader's neutral, pleasant voice, though, she'd felt sick listening to Danielle Hammond. Or Dany, as her friends called her.

Angel was not her friend.

She had still moved her lips along Danielle's lines, tried to feel her patterns of speech, her relaxed happiness, her careless confidence.

It didn't match.

Why should it? Danielle had had a life that Angel never even had a chance at. From Danielle's first moment on, she'd had the entire world laying at her feet. From Angel's first memory on, she'd been kneeling at someone else's feet.

She'd made it, somehow. She didn't kneel any longer, she would never again. Angel knew she was confident as well, more aggressively so than Danielle ever had. She was famous, even. More famous than Danielle. But still, famous because of her. Because Danielle Hammond had once existed, and now all that was left of her was Angel.

There was a scene in the documentary, set on a graveyard. The transcript contained barely any description, but the name of the cemetery had been mentioned in passing. Fairview. It had been lingering in the far end of her consciousness for days, weeks, nagging, itching.

It was manageable - Angel had learned the hard way how to ignore an itch. But today, after work, when she got into her car - she didn't drive herself, but Mr Hammond insisted she took the services of his driver - she told Anthony not to take her home directly.

Hearing the name of the cemetery, he just nodded.

They rode in silence, as they usually did. Somehow, though, there was something new embedded in the silence today. Anthony pulled into the parking space and opened her door, waiting until she had gotten out to finally speak up. "I can take you," he offered quietly. "It's a bit confusing to navigate… I know where it is."

She grabbed her bag closer and nodded sharply, shoulders straightened. "Please," she said.

Anthony locked the car and took a sweeping gaze over the cemetery, with the kind of careful attention Angel knew wasn't just for orientation. He wasn't just a driver.

Fine by her. She didn't like drivers much anyway.

She stepped to his side and followed his gaze. The cemetery spread over the side of a small hill. It was old, she wagered, winding paths, huge trees, crypts and stone statues littered along the pathways between simpler stones.

"Oldest one in town," Anthony said. "And most beautiful. Costs a fortune, today. Boss doesn't compromise. Not for his lit-" He tracked off.

"Not for his little girl," Angel mumbled with a half smile and looked at his concealed gun pointedly. "Yeah. I figured."

Anthony shrugged apologetically and pointed at the gates to their right. "That way."

"It's not me, you know," Angel said, as she followed him. "His little girl."

"I know." Anthony's voice had become lower as he crossed the iron gates. Not only him, it seemed like everything turned quieter, softer, suddenly. The trees absorbed the noises of the city's rush hour underneath them. Here, they were almost alone. A small group - maybe a family - was gathered at a grave at the far end, an old lady watered plants a bit further uphill. Apart from that, nobody was there.

He lead her past hedges and benches, underneath low branches and the extended arms of elaborate statures, to a field of larger family graves.

Angel felt her own steps slow down, all but pulled in by a grave site, a well kept field of white pebbles lined with a polished, wide gravestone, small stone figure of an angel outstretched over it, as it to keep the grave save. "Here we are," Anthony said.

It wasn't necessary. She knew. Even as she couldn't distinguish the letters, she could feel the familiar shape of the family name engraved in it, sudden pain tearing at her. Hammond.

Two brass plates underneath it, with more letters. Should've been just one, she thought. Should've been just -

She sank to her knees. "Mom", she whispered tonelessly. She couldn't remember a face, nor a name, just… grief, melancholy, and longing.

Anthony's hand settled on her shoulder, gently reassuring. "Maeve," he said, reading the name on the plaque. "And next to her-"

Danielle.

A fresh white flower lay on her grave.

"I'm sorry," Angel pressed a hand over her mouth, not to sob. "Please, don't, don't te-"

"It's alright. A branch snapped, when Anthony went to his knees next to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I won't tell anyone."

She nodded, swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "Is it… Is the grave-"

"They buried an empty coffin."

"It's still… It's still her grave, right?"

Anthony paused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm here," Angel whispered. "The grave is empty. But Dan- she… I think she's still dead."

"See, Angel," He reached out tentatively, and she clutched his hand. "That's entirely up to you."

Angel turned her head to the side, buried her face in Anthony's jacket, and felt his arms close around her.

She cried, longer than she ever had, until the sun had set, and the cold crept through her jeans and up her knees, and there were no tears left in her.

"Okay," she mumbled as she pulled back. "Okay, I'm done."

Anthony didn't ask with what, or to what conclusions she'd come. He just helped her up to her feet, handed her a handkerchief and a pocket mirror, and then guided her back to the car through the nightly cemetery.

"Get you home?", he asked.

She nodded.

The ride, as usual, passed in silence.

But instead of the nagging, there was something new, something she couldn't quite grasp.

Closure, maybe.

#bbu #bbu recovery #angels story #whump recovery #death mention tw #grief tw #flash fiction friday #fff222

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rottentiger-art · 9 months

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Quogan with kids - Imagine how panicked/ridiculous Logan would be as Quinn’s water breaks and he has to drive her to the hospital. Or him holding her hand during labor and through the contractions.

I believe Logan would be overly attentive with Quinn's pregnancy, I think I mentioned before him buying whatever craving she has in bulks and make their friends/family rehearse what they have to do for the "big day" (yes, I am referencing Floricienta jajajja), but Quinn isn't far behind him.

I have some more headcanons for Quinn's pregnancy (I also have for them as parents, but then this post would be too long, so I'll leave that for another asks I got about the subject), remember this is settled in my Rebuilding PCA AU.

(had to divide this into sections bc there's an apparent limit for every list)

Finding out, to first Eco:

Despite having everything planned out, even when they were going to have children, the first baby came as a surprise.

I headcanon she took a test on her job. She had her suspicion about her symptoms, and had a doctor appointment in a few days, but she was too impatient to wait so she bought three pregnancy test (just to be sure) and took them on her job's bathroom.

But unexpected doesn't mean unwelcome. Quinn was very happy when she found out, definitely cried when she saw the two pink lines.

The thought of little baby, a mix of both her and Logan overwhelmed her with joy, unable to even worry if that might compromise her work at the moment.

Though she did think of it on her way home, she felt optimist. She acknowledge to herself that it will be hard and it will require more of her usual effort and focus, but she's Quinn Pensky-Reese! She's the mind of her generation, if anyone can handle an inventor's job, a school rebuilding and a pregnancy, that's her!

As soon as she got home, she went into her study and started organizing her schedule for the next months, in case the doctor confirmed it. Just to save time, time she would need later one, after all.

there was even more crying when the doctor told her that, yes, she was in fact pregnant. They settle a date for the first ecography.

Logan was the first one to know, of course. But Quinn waited until she had a doctor's confirmation before telling him, worried she'd get his hopes up only to end both disappointed.

I imagine she prepared a nice surprise dinner. He entered their home and found her waiting besides a candle lit table with his favorite dish. His first thought was wondering if he -somehow- forgot any important date, he even thinks "is it my birthday?".

But she reassured him before he even ask that she just wanted to surprise him. He notices she seems happier than usual, assuming she's about to tell him some really good news, (they know each other so well!!), tho he thinks it's probably related to the school renovation.

Her excitement took over and she couldn't wait until the end of the dinner, much to his relief because his curiosity was killing him.

She hands him a little gift box, and watches as his face changes, he goes from confusion as he opens it and takes a cute tiny PCA onesie, to realization. (note: the baby will be wearing that at some point, when Logan takes them to PCA, to show them the campus *cries*)

His eyes widens and he struggles to form words because he can't close his mouth. He's absolutely shocked.

Logan: "are you saying... we're having a baby?" and Quinn just nods excitedly, she also can't talk because she's already teary eyes.

Logan runs to hug her side, lifting her and spinning her around, so happy the protective dad mode hadn't kicked on yet lol.

He wants to tell everyone immediately, but she tells him it would be better to wait for the first eco, which would be after her first trimestre is completed, and explains to him all about those things (because you know she researched before the doctor appointment and also filled the doctor with questions lol)

He listens attentively because he wants to be aware about everything related to their little bundle of joy.

They're so annoying at the hospital for the eco, but the doctor is incredibly patient (bless them), despite them spilling question after question.

Quinn's scientific curiosity is in full swing as she bombards the ultrasound technician with a million questions about the technology and procedure.

Thankfully for the doctor, they shut up as soon as their baby shows up on the screen, as well as the first time they hear their heartbeat.

(little angsty headcanon: they were both terrified of not hearing a heartbeat, it made them anxious and afraid, they're first time parents after all, they're fucking scared *cries intensifies*)

As the doctor shows them the baby's hands and feet and nose and all that, Logan makes comments like "they're gonna have your nose!" or "oh, you're gonna be a such a heartbreaker, just like your dad"

He mostly tries to make Quinn laugh, and to ease both of their nervous.

The doctor asks if they want to know the gender of the bay, but they decide to save that for the baby shower, so they get it written down in an envelopment instead.

The technician offers to print out a few ultrasound pictures for them, where the gender of their baby could not be visible (already sensing these two would spend a lot of time looking at them and Quinn would definitely figure it out). Quinn practically squeals with delight, already envisioning how she'll document and cherish these precious snapshots. Logan grins, imagining himself showing off the pictures to anyone who will listen, beaming with pride.

As they leave the doctor's office, Quinn can't help but walk a little lighter, her hand resting protectively over her growing belly. Logan wraps an arm around her, pulling her close, his protective mode also activating on that moment

On the way home, they can't resist the urge to stop at a baby store. They fill the car with stuffed animals, and nursery decorations. They also pick out a few gender-neutral outfits, happily imagining their little one wearing them.

When they get home (after Logan settled all the heavy stuff they brought inside their home, because he's not letting her carry anything heavy ever again), they sit in the coach and spread the ultrasound pictures on the coffee table, looking at them and pointing little details they notice about their baby.

Announcement:

After indulging on this little moment, they finally call their friends and family to let them know the news. First their parents (Lyric was in the same room as Logan's parents, so she found out at the same time)

Their parent's are overjoyed, it's going to be the first grandchild in both families, with Quinn being an only child and Logan the first of Malcolm's children to be a parent (I'm still not sure Logan's older brother exist, but either way, first grandkid bc I say so), and at the end of the calls they promise to set a dinner to celebrate this news soon.

When Lyric hears the news, she raises an eyebrow and gives a nonchalant shrug, trying to maintain her composure. Deep down, however, she can't help but feel a surge of excitement and anticipation. She may not show it openly, but Lyric secretly starts researching the best auntie gifts and cool, trendy baby clothes. She's determined to be the "chillest" aunt, effortlessly blending her coolness with her newfound role.

Of their friends, the first to know were Lola and Michael, argue with the wall.

Lola squeals at the news, already declaring herself the best aunt this baby would have (Lyric would disagree if she was there, but whatever), she cracks a few jokes at Logan's expenses probably, I imagine their friendship still has that banter, like they pretend they still dislike each other. Something like, "I'm sure your baby will have enough of you to make up for the parts it gets from Logan" (english is failing me lol, but you get it), and tells them she would host the baby shower. Organizing event is still not much her thing, but she's too excited.

Michael is over the moon, and tells them he'd gladly conduct their baby shower, and tells them he already thought of baby names ideas. They tell them Lola already offered and he says he'll call her to let her help (Lola would probably let him do most of the job lol)

I just know this news would give Zoey and Chase another age/relationship crisis, but let's not focus on that for this. They're happy for their friends. They also offer to help with the baby shower, but Logan is quick to reject them lol. Though Quinn explains Michael and Lola are already on that, so they don't feel bad.

Pregnant Quinn:

Quinn becomes a walking encyclopedia during her pregnancy. She dives deep into researching every stage of fetal development and reads every book on pregnancy she can get her hands on. She's determined to understand every aspect of what's happening to her body and her growing baby.

Quinn's scientific mind goes into overdrive as she starts experimenting with various homemade remedies and concoctions to alleviate pregnancy symptoms

She creates her own natural remedies for morning sickness, swollen feet, and stuff, much to the amusement and amazement of her friends.

I like to keep a bit of the ridiculousness from the show into this, so I hc Quinn's pregnancy hormones send her emotions on a rollercoaster ride. She goes from crying over commercials to laughing uncontrollably at the slightest joke. Her friends and Logan learn to navigate this emotional whirlwind, providing comfort and support whenever she needs it.

Quinn's genius mind starts coming up with innovative inventions specifically designed for pregnancy. She designs a pillow that perfectly supports her growing belly while she sleeps, a wearable device that tracks fetal movements, and even a smart app that monitors her baby's health.

Her pregnancy cravings are a mix of the expected and the totally unexpected. One day, she craves pickles and ice cream, and the next, she insists on eating spaghetti with hot sauce and gummy worms.

As her due date approaches, Quinn becomes hyper-organized. She starts prepping freezer meals, organizing the nursery down to the tiniest detail, and even creating a hospital bag checklist for both her and Logan. She wants everything to be perfectly in place for their baby's arrival.

I like to thinks Quinn's love for science extends to documenting her pregnancy journey. She takes weekly belly pictures, meticulously tracks her weight gain, and even keeps a journal where she writes letters to her unborn baby. While she is treating it like a study, she also wants to capture every precious moment and memory for their little one to look back on.

Quinn's intelligence and curiosity lead her to attend every prenatal class their schedule allows, along with Logan ofc. She becomes the star student, asking insightful questions and even offering her own scientific explanations for certain topics. She kinda annoys the other parents on the classes, but the dirty look Logan gives the when they try to say something shuts them up.

Despite her scientific approach to pregnancy, Quinn also embraces the magical and emotional side of it all. She loves feeling her baby's kicks and hiccups, cherishes every ultrasound appointment, and eagerly awaits the moment she can hold her little one in her arms.

She loves talking to her baby, telling them about how their little body is developing and what awaits them and stuff.

She hopes their little one is a science fan like her, so she also tells them of science in general, specially while she works on her quinnventions, explaining the process to her belly.

No matter how many research she went through, the birth terrifies her, truth be told. She's a first time mother after all, how could she not. The thoughts of all the things that could go wrong filling her mind.

But she endures it, holding tight to Logan's hand. She keeps pushing and pushing until they finally hear the baby's cry.

All the pain and fear melting away the moment he baby is placed in her arms, she cries happily as she caresses their cheeks and coos at them, calming the babies' crying.

the sobbing doesn't stop even when the baby calms down and the doctors take them away to clean them and weight them, neither her or Logan taking their eyes off their child, even when he leans down to kiss her forehead, whispering sweet words at her.

Daddy-to-be Logan:

From the moment Quinn tells Logan she's pregnant, he can't contain his excitement. He starts researching everything about pregnancy and parenting, creating boards filled with nursery ideas, baby names, and parenting hacks.

He creates an elaborate color-coded pregnancy planner. It includes doctor's appointments, prenatal classes, and even a detailed birth plan. He wants everything to be perfectly planned and scheduled for the arrival of their little one.

He takes it upon himself to fulfill every single one of her cravings. He becomes her "master chef", whipping up all sorts of weird food combinations she asks for, even if it means making a peanut butter and pickle sandwich at 3 a.m.

Logan insists on attending every doctor's appointment with Quinn, taking copious notes and asking the doctor a million questions. He's determined to be the most involved and informed dad ever.

As Quinn's baby bump grows, Logan becomes the ultimate protector. He's constantly fretting over her well-being, making sure she doesn't lift heavy objects, and even wrapping her in bubble wrap (metaphorically) to ensure nothing happens to their little one.

Logan starts talking to Quinn's baby bump, telling stories, singing lullabies, and even playing his favorite songs. He's convinced the baby can hear him and wants to establish a bond before they even arrive.

But he does not neglects Quinn, he pays just as much attention to her.

When it comes to baby shopping, Logan goes all out. He insists on buying the most comfy and safe stroller, the comfiest crib, and the cutest baby clothes. He spends hours meticulously researching and comparing products, determined to provide the best for his little family.

Logan becomes a master at assembling baby furniture... after many fails. He spends countless afternoons putting together the crib until he figures out how that thing works, changing tables, and rocking chairs. He'd usually hire someone to do the job for him, but he wanted to do this himself, no matter how frustrating it became, it was worth it.

As Quinn's due date approaches, Logan becomes a nervous wreck. He's constantly checking his phone, ready to rush to the hospital at a moment's notice. He even has a fully packed hospital bag prepared for both Quinn and himself, complete with snacks, a change of clothes, and a camera to capture every moment.

When the day finally arrives, Logan is a ball of nerves and excitement. He paces the hospital waiting room, wearing a path into the floor, until finally, he gets the news that Quinn is in labor.

He practically sprints to her side, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement throughout the whole process.

And when their little bundle of joy finally enters the world, Logan's heart swells with love and pride. He can't help but cry tears of joy, overwhelmed with emotions as he holds his baby for the first time, promising to be the best dad they could ever ask for.

It's definitely the happiest day of their life, and once home, they can hardly take their eyes off their baby, so thankful to have them there, unable to contain the infinite amount of love their feel for them.

And that's most of my quogan pregnancy headcanons, hope you liked them.

#ask box #anon #quogan #zoey 102 #zoey 101 #logan reese #quinn pensky #quinn x logan #quogan baby #rebuilding PCA au #(kinda. it's settled there)#quogan headcanons

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damienthepious · 9 months

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i still hate this fucking editor. Also short chapters will be the vibe for this fic i think, until the exact moment that's not true anymore. whateverrrrr.

raised by wolves

[ch 1] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Sir Damien, Lord Arum, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Werewolf!Rilla specifically, Secrets, (look i think rilla deserves to have some angsst explored for once), (uhhhh god there have GOT to be more tags uhh. i don't know i'll add more later), (In later chapters there will be), Implied/Referenced Harm to Children, Implied/Referenced Violence, Mild Injury

Summary: Rilla is keeping secrets.

Chapter Summary: Half-truths and avoidance are the order of the day.

Rilla doesn't actually remember a time before the wolf.

Her parents told her that it - contracting the condition - happened when she was very young. She doesn't remember that, either, not really. She maybe-sorta remembers... something about fireflies, being afraid, pain, but that could just as easily be a fabricated memory from the stories that her fathers told her afterward. No guarantee it actually happened that way. Not that it matters. The scar on her wrist and the condition itself are enough.

It's just... something that is. Something she has to deal with.

Something she has to deal with alone.

Which is becoming, annoyingly, more difficult.

"-decided that I might accompany you," Rilla tunes in enough to hear, and she almost hurts her neck turning towards the monster as he aggressively prunes back a creeping thorny plant, a monster variant of purple barberry (that, according to Arum, enjoys the "enrichment" of pruning). "Gather some samples of my own, for the greenhouse."

"I can just get them for you," Rilla says, too sharp and too quick, and Arum looks up from his shears. The plant flicks a vine, catching one of Arum's gloves and his attention again. "You don't have to bother."

"It isn't a bother to-" Arum hesitates, wrinkling his snout as he lunges forward, clipping off a substantial barbed arm that had been trying to sweep around to prick him from the side. "It isn't a bother to- to spend- time with you," he finishes, his pauses not really aligning with his motions. She imagines that the words might have been hard to get out for some other reason. "I- when you're gone, it... I..."

"It's just a couple days," Rilla shrugs, trying to decide if leaving the greenhouse entirely might be a viable strategy for ending this line of thinking. Teasing first, she decides. That usually throws the monster off. "Careful, or you're going to start to sound like Damien."

Arum frowns. "Damien misses you."

Well there isn't much of anything Rilla can do about that, is there? She shrugs. "It's only three days. I know he doesn't like it, but- I mean frankly, considering the trips he used to take for his missions, he really can't complain about three days."

The only bad part about Damien taking a sabbatical from knighthood while he figures some stuff out about himself. He barely travels, now, and he's smart, and she has a gnawing worry at the pit of her stomach that it's only a matter of time before he or Arum or the both of them notice that there's a-

"It's an interesting schedule," Arum says, still frowning, flicking his wrist to parry a sullen little lash from the plant with his shears. "Three days every month, yes?"

Pattern. Rilla swallows. "Yeah," she says with another shrug. Was that weird? Two shrugs that close together? "I figured- I do know it bothers Damien when I'm gone, so limiting myself to three days out of a month for my herb collection seemed like a good compromise."

"Hm," Arum says, and then he makes one more maneuver with his hands, clipping a fair chunk from the plant. He makes a noise at the back of his throat, then, his lip curling in obvious satisfaction, and he nods as he steps backward, apparently finished with the chore. The vine reaches after him for a moment, but its motions are more worn out, and it settles pretty quickly. Arum sets his shears on a nearby log, rolls his shoulders, and then tips his head to give Rilla a look. It's- hesitant, maybe? "It... could go faster than three days," he suggests.

Rilla scowls. "I'm not going to rush my methods just-"

"With help," he finishes, and Rilla stops short. "If I helped you. It would go faster. You could come ho-" he inhales oddly, his voice catching on a lingering rattle, and then he tries again. "Come back. Quicker. If I came and helped you."

Rilla stares at him for a moment, watching the way he fidgets as she tries to think-

If she wasn't lying, if these trips had nothing to do with the wolf-

What would she say, right now?

(She can't use her experimental medicine again. She's working on a different batch, but after last time- apparently something in the formulation reduced the sedative effect, and she has uncertain memories of throwing her body against the chains, against the walls, trying to escape, trying to get- somewhere. She can't quite pull reasoning from the memories, but the wolf had been frantic enough that she'd woken up absolutely covered in bruises. Even healing as fast as she does, she was forced to avoid letting Damien or Arum see her without long sleeves for an extra day after she came back.)

(Rilla doesn't need help. Rilla hasn't had help since she was practically an infant. Why should she get help now?)

"That's... sweet of you to offer," she says, her tone coming out odd and flat, though she does feel herself soften when Arum scowls at the accusation of sweetness.

"I am sensing an incoming rejection, regardless," he grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Not-" she sighs. "Not like that. It's just- I'm more used to being alone than Damien is. I need- I need that time?" It comes out sounding like a question. Come on. "I need to spend some time alone once in a while or- or I'm not very pleasant to be around."

Wow. That's one way to tell the truth and a lie in one sentence. She's almost impressed with herself.

Arum's face does something strange, almost wincing, and he looks aside. "I don't... I've never been alone, not truly," he murmurs. "But-"

But the Keep doesn't count the same way, because it's sort of Arum's mom and sort of the second half of Arum's mind, and when Rilla met them they had collectively been the loneliest thing in the whole of the Universe, as far as Rilla knew. Her stomach churns unhelpfully, her ribcage feeling oddly tight.

She takes a few steps closer, reaching to touch Arum's jaw. "I don't want to leave either of you alone," she says, quiet. "I can't tell you how much of a relief it is, knowing that you'll take care of each other while I'm gone."

Arum's mouth twitches, a pained almost-smile. "I am not... as practiced, in caring for our poet. Not as skilled as you are."

Rilla thinks, not for the first time, that her partners are too sweet for her. Too sweet for her to deserve. She shoves the feeling behind herself, letting it loom without looking at it, and instead she leans forward and tickles a kiss onto the tip of Arum's nose.

"Oh, hush," she says as he wrinkles his snout and glares sullenly at her. "You're here for him, you take care of him. You're perfect."

Arum scowls more deeply, clearly embarrassed, but he doesn't argue as she peels the gloves from his hands and starts pulling him towards the kitchen to start on dinner.

That should be the end of that, she thinks.

(She can almost feel the wolf's fur shiver, as if reacting to a change in the wind.)

(She ignores it.)

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #raised by wolves #AUGHH. hrg. arugh.

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gamebunny-advance · 1 year

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"Plants" Process (Initial Sketch | Layers)

Sure, might as well talk about this one, because I actually have a bit to say about it.

So the title I uploaded this with, "Say you will about NSR..." was originally a (*mis)quote he says in the game when you fully unlock the Natura district. The line isn't especially significant, but I've always thought of it as surprisingly "quaint." It's very small, but it serves to humanize him just a little bit when up to and after this point he's dipped into cartoon-style villainy. These brief moments of honesty within his duplicitous nature is a part of why I find him to be an endearing character.

*The actual quote is, "Say what you want about NSR..." but I mistyped it when posting it. The meaning of the line is basically the same, though.

Due to this line, I've had the idea of drawing him surrounded by plants for a while. My first iterations of this idea usually involved him on an apartment balcony adorned with plants and overlooking the city. Sadly, my visions for the scene exceeded my artistic ability, so it's an idea that's been on the back burner for a while.

[A sketch I did last year based on the idea.]

It wasn't until I just randomly thought to come back to this idea that I sketched this piece.

But tbh, I don't think my vision was very clear. There's no sense that he exists in a real place (why in the world would a hanging planter be hung so low, XP). All I knew was that I wanted to draw him surrounded by plants, and that originally I wanted the color palette to be very limited.

Very recently, the SiIvagunner channel had uploaded a parody video of the Yona Yona Dance MV, which led me to listening/watching the original video (which I somehow managed to never see up to that point).

youtube

I found the limited color pallet of the video to be very striking, and I wanted to make something inspired by it combined with the experiment I did with my recent Kliff x Tati piece, which also only used about 4 colors.

However, I am abysmal at color picking, so I grabbed a color palette from @/color-palletes (link) to help the process along. In the end, I couldn't keep myself from trying to use all possible colors. Strictly speaking, there's a shade of every color in the rainbow in the final piece, which is about as far from a "limited palette" as it could be. Nonetheless, I think the darker tones of the colors do help to tie everything together, so it feels more limited than it actually is.

To return to discussing the sketch itself, there were a few ideas that changed and evolved throughout the process.

Besides moving some of the plants around, an idea I had that didn't get fully realized was that the three smaller plants in front of him were supposed to represent the game's rockstars: Mayday, Zuke and Tatiana. I had difficulty making that happen with the limited palette: since May, Kliff, and Tati share a lot of colors (notably red), and one of Zuke's main colors is green, the same color for the plants, it was difficult to main the references while still having them all not blend into each other. Perhaps with more time to think through the idea I could have reached a compromise, but as things are, that reference was more or less lost.

To get it out of the way: there isn't any real symbolism behind the plants chosen. They were picked strictly on their aesthetic value/ease of drawing them. If you wanna stretch, the Zuke vase is holding red flowers (poppies), so it's kinda referencing that time his hair was set on fire, but that's totally incidental~ However, I will say that originally that vase was supposed to hold orchids since it's apparently a flower common in Malaysia, but I had difficulty drawing them and settled on poppies. Hibiscus plants were also considered for similar reasons, but as someone who's actually grown up around hibiscus flowers, I knew I didn't really have another place to put them since those plants actually get really friggin' big.

Something else that was lost was the poster behind the snake plant. Originally I had thought to put a poster of Kul Fyra on the wall, but I honestly got pretty lazy about adding the details. That and Kul Fyra's colors would have blended into Kliff hair since she's a combination of reds and yellows. But that space felt so empty without *something* there, so I messed around with random shapes and eventually just landed on putting up some records. It's a generic detail, but I do feel like they add a "pop art" quality to the piece.

To conclude, this was very fun to work on and the turnaround on it was fairly fast. Usually for pieces like this, the process takes me a few days, but I sketched and finished this all in the same day. Had I given myself more time to sleep on this, I might have worked a little harder to incorporate some of my other ideas and clean it up a little more. That said, this is still one of my favorite pieces as of late, and I hope that I'm able to make more things like it.

#gbunny draws #nsr #kliff #gif #should i main tag this again?#i don't think so #y'all are the only ones that really benefit from hearing me ramble #if you can even call it a benefit #something i didn't mention is that i actually struggled with the face a bit #i didn't like the initial expression that much #it was a little soft for my tastes #the triangular eyes are just something i borrowed from the 'anniversary' piece i did a while back #i dunno why i did that in either case since his eyes are typically downturned #but they helped him to look sharper #so i'm okay with it

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baladric · 1 year

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Ough Maia mommy kink...that's exquisite...would also fit with his intense reaction when he first met Hesero...and Csethiro would be the best soft domme...sword fighting muscle mommy... What kinks do you think the other characters have? I read that one Cala/Beshelar boot worship fic on ao3 and it's lived in my head rent free ever since

ohhhh anon. oh sweet beloved dear anon, i am kissing you on the forehead, i love you so, you are so wise and clever

the funny thing is i feel like there's UHHH wrong answers to the tge kink question(s) so like these are all just ME, having read surprisingly little of the extant fic for this fandom (once i start writing for a thing, i weirdly lose interest in reading for it)

i will say i'm on the fence about the general Softness of csethiro's domme'ing ;alkdfjw like in the universe where i get everything i want, csethiro's had some Experience™ with ladies in vedero's circle (i think a lot about the passingly-referenced aizheän tativin A Lot), and so i think she comes to maia's bed with a skill set that feels very inapplicable to her at first, and also involves a lot more Meanness than she expects maia to be in any way into?? so i think it takes them a good while to get to anything particularly kinky—but when they do, i think csethiro is the dominant party for a Long Time, like mommy kink stuff obvs, praise kink goes w/o saying imo, definitely like rope bondage in the manner of silk ribbons and calling maia Pretty and treating him like a doll, and when his anxiety is eating him alive? i honestly think he asks her to get kind of mean to him!! like lance the wound, right? voice the bad things!! get it all out of his head and into the real world and then throw it out the goddamn window at the end!! there is so much catharsis to playing in the space of self-hatred in a controlled environment, i am just sayin

also i think they find out during some regular tender vanilla sex that csethiro does, in fact, love Actual soft-dom maia, and then they play with service roles and something along the lines of hypnosis, like maia talking her into a meditative state and going to town on a list of pre-arranged tasks, etc!

and like. 100% of the time i think their sex is INCREDIBLY gender-fucked. like the bed hangings shut and neither of them has ever heard of a binary gender, everyone is babygirl and also daddy and sunshine and silly boy and little slut and and

and then there's cala and beshelar ;lkajdflaw;kfjdsd like the SHORT list: major S/m (painplay, humiliation/degradation mostly), bondage, breathplay, definitely some INVOLVED roleplay, and i think cala likes to wig deret out with the idea of semi-public things (plugs, cages) even though they both know they can like. never ever risk that bc like talk about compromising their attention for protecting maia!!! as well as i rly love the idea of them both just. knowing each other so well that they can drop each other out of their heads with a few words once the door shuts behind them when a day has been rough, bc jesus god are their jobs hard and long and they know when the other one needs to just. fuck off and get fucked. for a while. (also they are very very sweet to each other and both so huge into aftercare, it's basically the whole point to them, like the other one having let go enough to allow themself to be proper taken care of and petted and loved on OUGH)

csevet aisava has cumslut energy. i'm sorry. he just does. that's a twink who just wants to be on his knees until his brain turns off, okay.

telimezh is vanilla and i love him. berenar, however, FUCKS.

thara celehar is a babygirl and he does not want anyone to know this, ever, including the person he is actively having sex with. this goes hand in hand with a STRONG humiliation kink, which you can bet Iäna "Daddy Dom" Pel-Thenhior uses to screw with him SO HARD

meanwhile iäna wants little more in the world than to be blown in the wings of an active performance and then fucked raw in a dressing room, half-clothed and made to stare at himself in the mirror while it happens

vedero drazhin mostly wants to slap csoru drazharan in the face i think. and make her cry. and then go read a book.

hope this helps <3

#i'm SO glad you asked anon #aj answers #anonymous ask #ask #tge

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thisiskatsblog · 2 years

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Best to you, Kat. Always had respect for you. Harry is a businessman; so is Louis. Your love for the fandom shouldn’t be confused with misplaced love for either artist.

Thank you for the well wishes, anon. I do appreciate that you thought of me, wanted to share that with me, and your respect for the love I have given fandom. It means a lot to me that this is recognized. Really. Thank you.

I am afraid the ask doesn't come across to me as respectful as you believe it is, though. There is judgment in using the term "misplaced love" , making it come off as though you think I am naïve about things and you know better.

I am a lot of things - among others passionate, open, and I tend to place trust in others - but that definitely does not equal naïve.

I know all too well that, if you want to make a living as a musician, you also need to understand, and get involved in, the business side of things.

Having grown up in the nineties, I have seen first hand my fair share of artists who detested the "business", and who - to various degrees - fought it or refused to reconcile with it, in view of maintaining their "integrity" as artists. I have zero illusions about how sustainable such objections are. You cannot keep it out if you want to build a long term career in music and the size of your success will usually have something to do with the compromises you are willing to make. And once the success comes in, even if you have not compromised before, the compromises become inevitable anyway. I have also seen that this doesn't necessarily mean you have to let go of all integrity. Several artists of my youth continue to draw big crowds, and manage to connect with their audience, move me to the core when I go see them, even for the umpteenth time.

What I am saying is that I'm not the type of person who believes an artist should refuse to become a businessman to remain credible and preserve their "integrity" as an artist. I believe that every artist has to decide for themselves where they draw the line between business interests and artistic integrity, between how much they want to earn off the back of their fans, and how much it's "all about the music". It can all be done while still making a real connection with the fans. Without making them feel alienated.

I'm also not an idiot and I know that all the boys in 1D were businessmen before they became somewhat credible as artists. They have all fought to overcome the prejudice that they are businessmen before artists, “pop stars fabricated to make money, with little to say as artists,” even. I also know their fights have had varying, and sometimes limited success.

However, I do believe that several of them DO have something to say. I believe what they have to say could be valuable, and I hope and wish they get to say it. While I wouldn't call that "love" for the artist, I do believe in several of them as artists. Maybe they're not the best artists I know, maybe they are not my favourite artists ever, but I believe they have things to bring to the table, I am interested to hear them.

And yes I have a great love for this fandom, and the people, particularly the LGBTQ+ people, in it. This comes first to me and I'm glad you recognized this.

But, insofar this includes any of the artists who might be LGBTQ+, my love goes out to them as well, not as artists, but as young people who deserve my energy to fight for our rights and wellbeing as a community. And it's also in this respect that I feel that Harry and Louis have earned some of my love and trust. Harry's relentless support to the community, from the start; the many songs / videos in which he is or might be referencing some of what this fandom has created (Sign of the Times, Adore You, Treat People with Kindness, Lights Up, Matilda). The pride flag on Louis' stage during my show in Antwerp; and a beautiful song like Only the Brave that has inspired the community.

That hasn't changed with anything that's happened.

What has changed, is my trust in Harry's integrity as a businessman.

You don't need to keep out business to keep your integrity as an artist. You can, for my part, even be a very successful businessman and keep integrity as an artist. But that does presume you maintain integrity as a businessman as well. And THAT is where the past days' events have disappointed me incredibly.

While I myself, would probably have made decisions about my career more like Louis' than like Harry's (the ticketing prices for Louis are much more democratic, and he has definitely chosen the harder road, trying to go more indie rock with his sound), I am not angry at Harry for "selling out" because he has stuck to pop and clearly wants to be “big”. What I am angry about is the lack of integrity on the business side.

I bought a ticket for a seat which the sales information in 2020 told me was at the B stage. For more than two years I did not know what was going to happen for this concert but I did not ask for my money back. I bought what I bought and I trusted that I would receive what I was promised to get in return. I didn't ask for a refund when the US tour was given priority over the EU one, I held on to my ticket. I didn't ask for a refund when a new record was announced and the setlist was not going to be what I expected it to be with this very different album coming out, I held on to my ticket. At the very least, I would have expected the layout of the room, on which the price of the seats in 2020 was based, to remain the same.

What Harry and his team did to the people with 2020 VIP seat tickets for the EU tour, completely lacks business integrity. We were sold a cat in a bag. So yes I have lost faith in Harry’s integrity as a businessman, and that compromises, in my view, his integrity as an artist.

I continue to support everyone who is bringing rainbows to his tour, in support of LGBTQ+ fans.

I continue support everyone who is bringing rainbows to Louis' tour.

I also continue to support Louis as an artist. It really surprised me anon that you wished to extend my loss of faith in Harry to him. There is no reason for it that I can see at this time. And if and when I can muster the energy I do hope to return from hiatus to follow (some of) his tour. We'll see.

I'm also not a fan of cancel culture. Which is to say Harry could probably win back my support and trust by doing better and surrounding himself with a better team, that cares more about integrity in business, and about the way he connects with his fans, a team that is not up for alienating long term fans over money. A team that doesn’t see his fans a short term cash making machine, but as real people with hopes, expectations and feelings.

You cannot cater to everyone - OK - those are choices you make - but you are also not above everyone and you need to honor the expectations you raise. It's not a small deal to disregard "a few fans who bought VIP tickets 2 years ago" to "bring in more new fans" (who will incidentally bring in shitloads more of money). I hope he is able to understand how that makes a significant number of very faithful fans, who have stood by him all this time, whom he raised expectations with, whom he promised something, I hope he is able to understand how that makes them feel. Because it feels as if faith and trust in him is not valued. It feels as even our money isn’t valued. Good businessmen know that this is not doing good business. Integrity does matter, also in business. And it matters for you as an artist, or it should, because it alienates part of your fanbase. This Harry and this team makes us feel alienated on a constant basis.

For me, the alienation didn't start with the layout changes, it has long been going on and it manifests in many different things. It's about catering to the American market and disregarding everyone else (and Europe has the least to complain I know this well). It's about everything that comes with catering to this homophobic American market, so that even rainbow projects are organized by homophobes who give your bi flag a nasty smirk while they are handing you their colored piece of paper, ignoring you with disgust on their faces while you try to thank them for organizing this because "its not about LGBTQ people we just want to make Harry happy" (this is the London rainbowhproject I'm talking about). It's about talking about American political issues but not recognizing the very serious and real political issues in the UK (only encouraging people to vote when it's already too late), it's about making fun of fans who want to hear fine line or medicine (in what upside down world does an artist not appreciate that people want to hear the more obscure songs like Medicine, rather than the hits like Watermelon Sugar). Its's about not really connecting, just giving a semblance. And, now that we are at it, on a personal level, it’s also about mansplaining abuse, and instead of saying something really useful about tit, telling people fairy tales ("I know they won't hurt you anymore if you can let them go") but not giving any real support.

Back to the ticket scam, maybe Harry can content himself with fans who don't understand what was done to them or who don't give a fuck whether they are treated like cash machines or humans, or with only American fans if he so wishes. In which case: fine. But honestly I don't believe that's what he wants. So I hold out a wee bit of hope that things might change. We'll see. Maybe. Maybe not. I've decided I won't be buying tickets to Harry's shows until that time and I'm also taking a break from here to protect myself from feeling awful every time something like this happens. It breaks my heart - Harry has meant so much to me as a person, and some of his music has meant a lot to me too - but coming to these shows hopeful, positive, and coming home feeling completely alienated for the second time after what happened at the London show, I simply don't have the energy for that anymore.

Back then I tried to keep going but eventually it led me to staying away for a year and a half. I'm too interested in what Louis does next to stay away that long I think, so I'm taking a break now, and I'll see when I feel zen enough to come back and show some interest in other things.

Thanks again for wishing me well in the meantime, anon.

#hslot #love on tour #harry styles #my son's disappointment as I had promised him we'd be at the stage #is something that really sits very painful with me #I haven't told him this #I just didn't have the heart #to tell him harry scammed us #sold us an expensive seat but didn't deliver what was promised #I just couldn't #i have so many things to say #i am so angry #and so disappointed #and it all just comes down to #with Louis you have the feeling there's a connection #that he's on your level #and he gets it #and we get him #with Harry you get the feeling of someone disconnected from the reality of others #who thinks he knows a lot #and is sometimes painfully aware of his blind spots #and he wants it all #he really wants it all and has cut himself off from what the consequences of that are #because the consequences are and will continue to be continued alienation of the people who made it possible for him to be in this position #in the first place #I hope he realizes that #and is sometimes painfully unaware of his blind spots is how that tag should read of course

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cdcore · 1 year

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"THE FOREVER STORY": THE INTERSECTION OF SUCCESS AND SELF

I’ve been in a period recently where I’ve been revisiting some music that really captured me rather than actively exploring new albums. One album that has by sheer willpower refused to leave my rotation almost half a year after it initially dropped is “The Forever Story” by Atlanta rapper JID.

For many, JID has been the next up-and-coming rapper for quite some time now: his features on various soundtracks recently like the Netflix original “Arcane” have placed him in a pivotal point in time for his career. JID by no means holds the household recognition that an artist like Drake or even Kendrick Lamar has, but he’s consistently earning the respect of his contemporaries and establishing himself as a future contender for the best in his generation.

“The Forever Story”, his third album to date, relishes those crossroads perfectly. Equal parts ambitious and humble, the album is ultimately a dedication to his roots --- tracks focus on the influence of his family, his socioeconomic situation growing up in Atlanta --- with the album’s title being an inversion of his first album, “The Never Story”. For every story detailing his origins, there’s another track dedicated to his ambition, his infectious passion for success and a recognition of his newfound status. The album begins with a delicate intro in “Galaxy”, featuring JID and some female vocalists signing sections of lines off his first album’s intro, “Doo Wop”. The attention to his original musical efforts is made visible with this choice, but soon we also are reminded how much has changed since his 2017 release --- Galaxy ends with a voicemail accusing JID of being fake for no longer being so easy to get in contact with. The voicemail itself is a little dramatic so I always interpret that it’s supposed to be taken in good humor, but it does raise a question: how much does success change us, and even if it doesn’t, how much does it warp someone’s view of us?

We’re then brought into the fast-paced, electric opening song “Raydar”, which beautifully references his original career ambitions through some clever sampling. For those unaware, JID originally intended to be a professional football player, even receiving a full athletic scholarship to play at Hampton University. The repeated use of a penalty flag announcement sample to break up verses references this, with the sample in question even referencing his specific number from when he played --- number 6.

Beyond some impressive sampling and fun beat switches, JID also brings some in some clever wordplay that connects back to the voicemail we heard earlier. JID says: “I know some rappers who paid but broke/Lotta money but you played your soul, you played yourself, you played the role.” There’s some really fun rhyme schemes here as the actual rhyme in each set changes --- first he rhymes paid with played which notably don’t end his phrases, before switching to rhyming soul with role, which do. Furthermore, This set of dialogue is clear in pondering the point that voicemail made earlier of fame changing someone --- He recognizes, likely with derision, that he could’ve been more financially affluent and famous had he compromised some of his morals, playing into a more stereotypical rapper “role”.

For the sake of brevity, this song features too dense of lyrics to enumerate on all its points, but a lot of what that role is and the oppressive nature of fame for rappers and Black artists is elaborated in the song, citing systemic racial injustices as the main axis in which his community is continually kept down.

“Dance Now” and “Crack Sandwich” focus on him fighting against peoples’ dismissal of success, as well as painting some pretty vivid imagery of his roots in Atlanta. Dance Now begins with a series of dismissive quotes he’s heard throughout his recent success, people attributing his growth to J Cole, the artist who signed JID to his record label, with a quote again referencing his community’s fear that he may have to “sell his soul” in the process. In this regard, Dance Now leans into some subtle implications of JID’s own faith and fears of compromising it --- he mentions wanting to “bear it all” to God and overcoming struggles he found in Satan. The song itself plays with the fear of him losing that struggle --- a chorus sung hauntingly by longtime collaborator Kenny Mason ends with the following lines: “You dance with the devil, you’ll never dance again,” before launching into a post-chorus where JID and Kenny Mason violently chant “dance now” over and over, even layering a lower pitched version of his voice to further implicate something demonic.

Moving from his faith, Crack Sandwich is likely the best piece of storytelling across the entire album --- JID discusses the dynamics of his 6 other siblings, both by describing them before going moment-by-moment where they were all at a party and his sister got into fight. The entire family starts joining in this chaotic street fight portrayed by JID like its something out of a movie --- verses are bookended by quotes their father would lecture them with, and samples some playful teasing and arguing throughout the track’s duration to further simulate the dynamic of some brothers and sisters that love each other but definitely butt heads a lot.

This loyalty is further extended upon in a later track, “Bruddanem”, which may as well be an anthem for familial bonds breaking for nothing --- it ends with a pretty electric feature from Lil’ Durk as well, who I’m not typically huge on.

Another impressive aspect of the album is its overall versatility: from here, tracks like “Can’t Punk Me” and “Surround Sound” hit more of your traditional pop rap, detailing JID’s success. Beyond lyrical content, his variety of flows, sudden switches and speed make these tracks something more of manic fun than more of a focus on raw storytelling. If listeners are looking for it, though, both songs feature some discussions of the violent streets in which JID and his feature artists, EARTHGANG and the ever-popular 21 Savage describe.

Yet another complete change of pace is Kody Blu 31, an anthem of JID refusing to give up and to, in his words, “keep on swangin’ on” even in the face of the most difficult pressure he’s faced. Above anything, anyone listening to this track will notice JID sings his heart out here, something he’s never really showcased prior --- he confirmed he actually worked with a vocal coach for months in preparation for the album.

I think this is what’s ultimately driven me back to this specific piece of music so many times. “The Forever Story” is an album that you can tell is made with nothing but pure passion. Every feature delivers, including one of the best Lil’ Wayne features in years on the track “Just In Time”. There’s such a variety of rap here, from the relentless storytelling of “Crack Sandwich”, “2007” and “Money”. JID hits emotional notes and something more akin to some of an R&B track in “Can’t Make U Change”. Other tracks like “Dance Now” feel so focused on the sound and the energy its conveying.

The depth of subject matter across these 16 tracks is something else as well. “Sistanem” and “Can’t Make U Change” detail his relationship struggles as he tours and becomes more focused on music, “Stars” is a dreamlike meditation on the early months when an artist has to convince themselves and others around them that success is possible, that despite their sensitivities, their lack of money and their general fear that their passion is something that can sustain them. The deluxe-exclusive “2007” point-blank details JID’s life story, complete with sampling of other rap songs that he, in the lyrics of that song namedrops as influences to him --- it even has a section performed by his father discussing his pride in his son.

If “The Never Story” was a desperate artist carving a niche for himself, “The Forever Story” is that artist able to realize the success and passion he could only dream of prior. For these reasons, “The Forever Story” remains my favorite album of the last year, and might one day even become my favorite of all time.

#rap #jid #music

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internnormaloak · 2 years

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In Little Ways Chapter Two: You Say I’m Changing (First Day Of School)

Summary: Normal’s first day of senior year at Teen High, featuring group dynamics, Hermie acting off, and awkward conversations with your parents

Pairing: OakWorthy

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst

CW: Implied/Referenced Bullying, Toxic Parenting, Trauma, Quiet Arguments

Title From “Be Nice To Me” by The Front Bottoms

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It was the first day of classes at Teen High School, and Normal entered after hitching a ride with Taylor.

His mom wouldn’t let him crash somewhere else last night, but at least he didn’t have to be dropped off with his mom and dad and Uncle Lark like last year. He let his mom mother hen over him despite him not feeling comfortable with it.

“When did my special little boy grow up?” She had said, she seemed emotional. Normal just smiled, he loved his mom, and even his dad despite everything, but there was still a lot of hurt there that they just didn’t really talk about.

“I’d argue I grew up over the summer when I became super tall like overnight.” He added back.

“You know what I meant.” She sassed back, though she didn’t actually seem annoyed or upset at all. “Are you completely sure you don’t want us driving you this year, I’m sure we could reach some kind of compromise if you are willing.”

Normal shook his head, “No, I’m good mom, promise.” At her sad expression he just sighed, “I’ll be home this afternoon after cheer in order to talk about it with you? I need to pitch some cheer ideas to coach, but I’ll be home tonight, okay?” He was trying to appease her, do a compromise just like she always taught.

“That would be great, yes! Me and your dad will be happy to hear about your day. I’m excited to talk to you about it!”

Normal just gave a thumbs up as he headed out the door to wait for Taylor’s car to pull up.

The self-driving car made its way. Taylor was in the driver’s seat and flashed a peace sign at Normal as he arrived. Lincoln was riding shotgun and he seemed happy to be there, though nervous as he always was when the school year started. Scary was in the back, she has her feet up against the seat and was leaned back. She had neutral expression on her face.

Somethings never change.

Normal got into the car, “Hey guys! You ready for Senior Year?”

Scary snorted, “I thought we talked about this when we hung out yesterday Norm? Or were you too busy oggling at Hermie to remember what any of us said?” She teased, it never took her long to go in for the attack.

Normal blushed and defensively replied, “I do not oggle Hermie, I just happen to look at him a lot, but I also look at you guys a lot so that you know that I’m listening!”

“Yeah sure thing Normal.”

“Anyway! We still all are taking 4th period Economics right?” Taylor interjected, bored with the previous convo.

“Yeah, I double checked all our schedule we should be good. I know we have less classes together than usual but we still have the same lunch period so we should be able to sit together then.”

“Yep! Despite Scary’s insistence that I only focus on Hermie, I’m so excited to have an entire year left in the same school with my three best friends. I think this year will be great!

By the time the four got to school, thanks to Taylor getting into an argument with his car that none of them could understand since it was in Japanese, they only had 4 four minutes before the bell rang, evidently, they had to rush to class.

Normal finally got a chance to see everyone at lunch, he grabbed a school lunch. He was in the lunch line with Scary and Hermie while Taylor and Link, who brought lunch, were at the table they always claimed.

As he got up into the line and grabbed his tray, he said hello to each of the lunch workers behind the counter, who all smiled back at him in their tired overworked way. He got up to the front and paid for this coming week’s of lunch and began to walk to the table. He was happily talking to Taylor about this new anime about School Spirit that Taylor swore Normal would love when he felt Hermie lock his arm through his, so that their elbows we connected. He looked over at Hermie and smiled but was surprised to find Hermie seeming…off. Not upset he didn’t think but certainly not happy. He sent him a look of concern, what could be the problem, it was just lunch and no one had talked to any of them in line.

Once they sat down, Normal grabbed his hand and picked up his fork with the other. “Is everything alright Hermie?” He asked quietly while the other three talked.

“Yeah, just keep talking to your friends I’ll join the convo in the minute…I just noticed something, we can talk about it in a bit.”

Normal nodded. “Alright, just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

So he continued talking to his friends, occasionally sneaking a glance at Hermie every now and then, who seemed to be bothered by something. But Hermie did eventually join in on the convo and things seemed to be normal enough. When lunch ended the group split apart until they’d share a class later.

Hermie didn’t say anything in economics and acted like his typical extremely outspoken self. However, when the day ended Normal caught Hermie before he had to go to the theater and before Normal had to go to practice. They found a secluded spot and sat down on the hallway floor after the students cleared out.

“Okay, so what’s happening Hermie, you seem upset.”

“Oh, it’s just other people, I’m worried.”

“Why are you worried about other people?”

“Because of you.”

“Me? Why would you be worried about me?”

“Well it’s just, I saw people staring, and I realized it’s because of your growth spurt and I couldn’t tell if it was mean or not so I just…” he then mumbled something.

“You just?”

“…Glared at them…and you didn’t notice so I put my arm in your arm so they know we are still standing strong together and if they want something to talk about they can talk about me and how I’m an overprotective boyfriend or whatever.” He gives a little smirk, “You know I love the attention.”

Normal embraced Hermie, “You are so sweet stardust, but I don’t need you to protect me. I mean yeah I’m not the best at picking up on social things all the time, but if people stare or talk, let them? If it becomes too awful I will talk to them about it.” He then pulls back so that he could face Hermie, “But I do also love you protecting me, you always make me feel so special.”

Hermie blushed, “No problem Kitten.” He looked down at his watch, “We really should go, but we’ll call tonight right?”

“Of course! I’ll tell you how my pitch goes and you tell me how far you’ve gotten into organizing the drama room’s supply closet!”

Pitching the ideas went well. He was not always the best at gauging others' reactions, but the cheer coach seemed engaged and asked a lot of questions. Plus Normal had two years of consistent experience and one sophomore year of inconsistent experience behind him, so the coach seemed to value his opinion.

He caught the late school bus back home at around 5pm and sat down in the front, ignoring that a lot of other seniors sat in the back.He never liked the back, he liked being near the bus driver, and he liked that people tended to leave you alone up front, or at least it was quieter and more private if they were making fun of you. Ever since Sparrow had awoken to the fact that sometimes the laughs he heard were at him, he almost became hyper conscious of the fact, and he seemed to somehow be able to know when he was being mocked sometimes and also have no idea the rest of the time. So now he sat up front when he could, or honestly just avoided the bus altogether if he could, but sadly all his friends with cars were busy today. And while what he said to Hermie was true about just letting people do what they do, it didn’t mean he had to like it or sit through it.

As he sat on the bus he sent a text to the group chat:

Me: Hey, I’m actually going home tonight lol

Taylor: everything good man?

Me: Yeah, just promised my mom I’d talk to them after my first day lol

Scary: ugh talking

Me: yeah lol

Link: Normal you can’t keep putting lol after every message and expect us to think that this is completely light hearted.

Me: lol

Me: But uh, I think everything will be okay, just awkward as it always is with my dad.

Me: So uh, be on standby

Taylor: as always! Remember you have a standing invitation at my very big and very expensive house

Link: Of course! I will be here ^_^

Scary: yeah sure whatever

Normal arrived back home and went in through the front door. He took his shoes off and walked into the kitchen where he saw his dad sitting at the kitchen table. His dad looked tired, but he still gave Normal a smile.

“Hey Normal, how was school?”

Normal smiled back, “It was good. Boring overall, but good.”

“That’s good, I’m sure you know by now that there’s nothing wrong with boring.”

“Yep!” Normal did not know how to continue this conversation. After a few beats of silence, he just turned around and said, “If my mom comes in let her know I’ll be right down again, I’m just putting my bag down in my room.”

“You got it.”

Normal went upstairs and opened his bedroom door. Despite his overall hesitance to ever spend time home unless he was alone, he did love his bedroom. It was Teen High blue, with a bunch of items from his various interests over the years. He had a bunch of Teenie merch along the walls, as well as a limited edition Teenie plush the school only made for a short amount of time when the character was first. He kept the plush proudly on his bed and kept him here for safe keeping. He grabbed the small plushie and gave it a hug.

“Teenie give me strength,” He mumbled, “I just need to do some positive affirmations-This will go well. My mom can facilitate the convo and while me and her have issues, she does know how to stop things from being awkward.”

He put the plushie back down and headed down stairs. His mom was here now, she had brought some dinner from out of the house. Normal recognized the scent,

“Is this-”

“Dimitri’s world famous vegan pizza with vegan pepperoni?”

“That’s my favorite pizza!” Normal beamed, “Thank you mom.”

“Hey its a thank you parents, it was your dad’s idea, it was just me who actually went through with it.”

“Oh well then, thank you parents!” Normal nodded at his dad. Maybe this conversation wouldn’t be so bad?

Well the dinner wasn’t the worst it could be.

The three were sitting at the kitchen table, eating as Rebecca kept asking questions about Normal’s day.

“So the Captain seemed to really like your ideas? That's amazing Normal!” She happily took a bite of pizza, “Though if you don’t mind me changing the subject, I do want to ask how things are going with you and Hermie~” She smirked.

Normal blushed but his eyes did light up, “I mean things are good. We have a class together and lunch. We’ve just been happy to have more time together after him being hard to reach over the summer with his whole phone breaking thing.”

“Is he still in the drama club?” Sparrow asked. “I know that when I last met him he was really into theater and method acting.”

“Yeah, and he’s still really good. Though he’s not doing the whole being a character all the time now, he’s stopped doing that for his own health.”

“That’s good.” Sparrow took a sip of water, “You seem to have really interesting taste in people, considering your boyfriend and friends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean dad?”

“Normal-” Rebecca started, her voice calm and even.

“Nothing, nothing. Just that considering how… out there, your friends are and Hermie is also kind of strange, and like you’re out most of the time doing who knows what and causing us to worry…”

Normal groaned, “We’ve been over this, I’m usually just at Taylor’s or Hermie’s or Abuelita Mercedes. I’m not doing anything crazy! Why can’t you trust me, I spent years nearly never leaving the house.”

“Its not that I don’t trust you it’s that I don’t trust others.” Sparrow sighed, playing with his fork nervously as he looked Normal in the eye

“Yes, yes, I know the world is dangerous and I’m naive and whatever else you say.” Normal grumbled, he grabbed his piece of pizza

Sparrow looked down, “I shouldn’t have said that. Your friends and boyfriend are good kids, and I do trust your judgment.” Sparrow chuckled grimly, “We both know you’ve faced worth than high school drama or whatever.” He looked back up, “I’m sorry Normal, I’ve just had a rough day, I shouldn’t take it out on you though.” Rebecca smiled at him, glad that the issue seemed to have resolved itself.

Normal just nods, “It’s fine dad.” Normal finishes his pizza and turns to his mom, “Hey, can I go ahead and go to my room, I already have homework to do.”

“That’s fine,” His mom responded, she then added on, “Just know that we love talking to you, Normal. You can always come to us, we’d do anything we can to help you.”

Normal just nodded, unable to bring himself to do much more. After he got upstairs, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Hermie to go ahead and call him when he’s free. He then sent a message to the group chat:

Me: Hey guys, any of you gonna be home tomorrow night and willing to let me crash? lol

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Feedback is always lovely.

Thank you for reading!

#dungeons and daddies #dndads #normal oak #hermie unworthy #Oakworthy #normie #hermie the unworthy

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tolkien-feels · 3 years

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So @theleakypen said this a while ago

And I, being both a simple person who will take any excuse to talk about Rosie Cotton, and a busy person who really shouldn't be writing essays about anything, decided to compromise by giving the tldr version of a hypothetical essay

I’ll be the first to admit there's very little Rosie canon, so anything said about her is up for discussion. But then again, the same goes for a lot of Tolkien characters and that’s never stopped anyone from conjecturing, so I won’t let it stop me either.

I actually want to begin this with something that’s not clear-cut canon: the unpublished epilogue. More precisely, a part of it that is referenced in RotK:

Master Samwise stood at the door and looked away eastward. He drew Mistress Rose to him, and set his arm about her.

‘March the twenty-fifth!’ he said. ‘This day seventeen years ago, Rose wife, I didn’t think I should ever see thee again. But I kept on hoping.’

‘I never hoped at all, Sam,’ she said, ‘not until that very day and then suddenly I did. About noon it was, and I felt so glad that I began singing. And mother said: ‘Quiet, lass! There’s ruffians about.’ And I said: ‘Let them come! Their time will soon be over. Sam’s coming back.’ And you came.’

‘I did,’ said Sam. ‘To the most belovedest place in all the world. To my Rose and my garden.’

I’ll skip over Rosie’s inexplicable intuition (though of course that’s an important Tolkien trope, and usually reserved for particularly special characters), and just focus on the actual events of the day. According to Rosie, she thought Sam was dead, but suddenly (though it made no logical sense), she began to sing in defiance of evil, with bold, sudden hope. Now, is it me or have we heard this story before? Anyone remember Sam refusing to bid the stars farewell and singing in the tower of Cirith Ungol? What about Fingon harping a song of Valinor in Morgoth’s own realm? And of course, Luthien singing in Tol-in-Gaurhoth is legendary. Songs of hope in defiance of evil after the loss of a loved one are. A pattern. But Rosie bends this pattern in two very significant ways.

The first is that the lost one is supposed to answer the song. That’s the whole point of it! That’s how they’re found! But Rosie’s song goes unanswered. For me, that really changes my reading of her half-serious impatience when Sam finally returns to the Shire (”You haven’t hurried, have you?”) - at first I had just assumed this showed just how little hobbits of the Shire understand the Quest, and while I still think that plays a large part, there’s more to it. Tolkien’s very worldbuilding rules dictate that Sam should come back to her when she sings, but he takes forever to do that, and all the while Rosie isn’t sure if her hope will pay off. I can see where she’s coming from with her impatience!

The other way Rosie breaks the pattern is that she doesn’t play the role of rescuer. Or at least it’s not immediately obvious that she does. But I think Rosie does rescue Sam in a way, from the darkness of the Quest and the horror of finding the Shire so changed by the Scouring. Thinking along these lines, I can’t help but think of Luthien healing the winter of Thingol with the touch of her hand. Perhaps Rosie does something similar. Unlike Luthien, Rosie belongs to the aftermath of a great quest. She belongs to the part of the story where the land is turned green by the happy couple -- which, in a way, Sam does, and I see no reason why Rosie doesn’t help in her own way, though the book never openly mentions it.

I’d even risk saying that besides the Silmarillion, LotR itself presents a parallel: Rosie and Sam are a smaller scale of Arwen and Aragorn (who are a small scale of Luthien and Beren, who are a small scale of Melian and Thingol...) Not only do both of these LotR relationships go way back to events that happen before the story, but they also seem to both represent the same hard work of building up what was torn down by the war.

In a letter, Tolkien once mentioned that "I think the simple ‘rustic’ love of Sam and his Rosie (nowhere elaborated) is absolutely essential to the study of his (the chief hero’s) character, and to the theme of the relation of ordinary life (breathing, eating, working, begetting) and quests, sacrifice, causes, and the ‘longing for Elves’, and sheer beauty."

Rosie, in her very ordinary, humble way, is no less important than Melian and Luthien and Arwen - she's both a symbol of hope and a bringer of life. Far from just being an afterthought to give Sam a happy ending, she is herself part of the Quest. Frodo set out to save the Shire - she stays behind and eventually saves it too by making it the green, sweet place it is meant to be.

In all of this, I don’t mean to make Rosie some kind of... extraordinary, queenly, fated person. Much like Sam, I think the entire point of her character is the heroism of ordinary people. She doesn’t have to be outstanding in every way to be important.

I could probably keep going and talk about how whatever little we know of her personality points to her being rather similar to Sam (listens to stories with shining eyes, thinks highly of Frodo, treats courage and loyalty as a matter of common-sense, very practical, close to her family), but this is already longer than I meant it to be so I’ll leave it at that.

#i'm eyeballing it but i think this must be like a thousand words #i can't believe i accidentally wrote an essay anyway

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book-o-scams · 3 years

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Ed, Edd n Eddy Series Bible (1996) -Analysis-

You can all finally read/download Ed, Edd n Eddy's official Series Bible right here! Thanks again to Chuckletons for sharing this with me and to Joey/Kongiscool0518 for sharing it in the first place, the Holy Grail of lost Ed, Edd n Eddy trivia!

One of the first posts I made for this blog was the Series Bible page. It was a composite of every source we had ever seen reference the series bible so far-- storyboarders in interviews, CN's old character guides, and the biggest source, an old CN UK posting about the show. Well, I figure now that we have the official source, I better update the old page (so everyone knows it's out of date), and make this new Series Bible post using the official source! Not much new information, but I was intrigued to finally learn the true phrasings of some things we had only heard paraphrased, as well as at least one detail from the movie that I couldn't believe came up this early in conception...

Unfortunately, Tumblr has apparently updated its post system to only let me add 10 images? Gonna try and only use images for what I need since you can read the actual document above, I guess I'll transcribe it too for easier reference and so we don't ever lose some archive of this.

Quickly, let's review what a series bible is:

A series bible is how creators pitch shows to networks. They can be called “pitch bibles” as well. Bibles do not usually get posted publicly, because they are initially under a strict Non-Disclosure Agreement by the network; also the creator may simply not wish to share it because it reflects the earliest stages of development.

The pitch materials typically include early concepts for characters, locations and episodes. Sometimes it exposes secrets, in this case, Ed and Eddy’s home lives, and sometimes the stuff in it is completely abandoned because it’s so early in production, in this case, casual references to school and adults.

Alright, everybody, it's time to gather 'round and read the Ed, Edd n Eddy Bible!

THE YEAR IS 1996.

YOUR NAME IS LINDA SIMENSKY. YOU WORK AT CARTOON NETWORK. A FRIEND OF YOURS, DANNY ANTONUCCI, IS WRAPPING UP A SHOW ON MTV. YOU GET THIS FAX.

Linda Simensky immediately fell in love with this concept because as a child, she was best friends with 2 other Lindas for seemingly no reason other than the shared name.

I love how Danny decided last second to pencil in the correct names over each Ed, since they're arranged out of title-order.

"They're friends because they have the same name."

-the Logline for the series.

Fun fact: one storyboard artist for the movie observed that the movie is essentially all about challenging the series' original notion that the Eds are friends ONLY because of their name.

"A Danny Antonucci Cartuna"

-the label Danny used to use under announcements of new productions.

PAGE 1:

Ed, Edd n Eddy

They're best friends because they have the same name.

A gag laden, beat generated CARTOON bumper car ride of 3 misfit youths on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs of America.

Through summer vacation, part-time jobs, or just hang'n out at the corner mail box, they want to belong....but CAN'T.

From home chores, helping neighbors or eating jaw breakers, they want to fit in...but CAN'T.

Ed is into "B" monster movies, model kits and is quick to break out into rashes.

Lots of luck...

Edd is into chemistry, biology and prone to crushes.

Later...

Eddy is into pranks, is stylish and flaunts himself to the world.

Ya Right...

Ed, Edd n Eddy is a show about confusion and contradiction, that awkward part of youth, pimples, big feet, oily hair and... girls???.

Puberty is unforgiving.

I was fascinated by the lack of art on this page, it makes the pitch feel very focused. AKA logo in the corner, the title logo again up top, then the logline appears again below.

I really love the breakdown of Danny's vision of the show. "Gag-laden, beat-generated, CARTOON bumper ride." Very accurate, and I think "beat-generated" is the phrase that interests me the most. I typically think of "animation beats" as sort of a give-in-- technically all things fit a rhythm, so all stories are essentially just a montage of beats. But this does make me realize how important the strength of the beats and their rhythm are to the pacing of a cartoon and making you feel like "that was a good one." I feel like the "seasonal rot" viewers feel over the course of a show, and the way that perception differs from person to person, depends on the type of beats you want. Even though I am very into the experimental beats of a show in its later seasons, I can definitely see how season 1's beats are more typically appealing to a wide-audience, and how important a focus on that is to the longevity of a show.

I found it really interesting how the scams are initially conceived of here as "summer jobs." It adds to the sense that adults were originally meant to be present. Honestly a little surprised nobody with access to this bible had ever thought to mention that-- scams are not referenced ANYWHERE. Their image in the Series Bible is that they have summer jobs and help neighbors, which is certainly a much cleaner reputation than the Eds ended up with in the show. Makes me realize though, were some of the early scams, like Ed's Hive Bee Gone and their newspaper routes, supposed to be leaning into this early idea of them with almost legit jobs for unseen adults?

I was very amused by the repeated phrase that the Eds simply CAN'T fit in.

Loved to finally see the official phrasing for the confirmation that Peach Creek is in America. Not much different than I was led to believe, but still nice to have the true quote.

Also love Eddy being described as "stylish and flaunting himself to the world." The bold-print reactions to each micro-description is a cute idea too, I truly wonder who we were meant to picture saying those things in reaction. Each Ed? Kevin?

The "corner mail box" is an oddly specific phrase-- the Eds do hang around mailboxes throughout the series, especially seasons 1-3, and I believe the canon map does have a corner mailbox, but the idea that the Eds hang out at one specific mailbox went the way of Bro's supposed secret treehouses.

PAGE 2:

Ed, Edd n Eddy

Show Description

Gag laden. True cartoon style, inventive, non parody, fast paced, stretch and squash

Beat driven. (even when characters stop they hold with a bounce cycle. Adults never bounce. Music can play important part, not just fill.) But not a musical.

Cartoon surrealism. (viewers see the show as Ed, Edd n Eddy would, less important things tend to blend into the background, while objects of Ed, Edd n Eddy's desires are focused. Premise driven.)

The school year's over, (yeah!!!!) and the long HOT summer vacation begins (gulp). What to do?

Stuck on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs of America is the last place you want to spend summer break, especially when you find life confusing and contradicting.

Ed, Edd n Eddy is about friendship, and serves to remind us that they're no "good ole days," just smelly runners.

You can tackle anything, when your with your pals.

Their days are spent, for knowledge, acceptance and some cash for jaw breakers. Armed with pimples, big feet and oily hair the three amigos trek into the unknown.

Ed, Edd n Eddy are dying to be grown-ups, but they're kids, and attack adulthood as only kids would. Simple situations turn into a manic rollercoaster ride. (Don't forget your barf bag).

They just want to belong, and they're willing to pull off any insane stunt to prove it. First they need to figure out what it is they want to belong to.

Found it interesting that on this page, the show's logo is replaced with the title written in a jumbled font. Seems like the font from the show's end credits.

Hehe, the continued reactions to the descriptions. Allow me to be Double D for a moment and point out the increased use of parentheticals on this page, as well as one wrong "your".

I love Danny's insight that season 1 is framed by the context of how hyped everyone still is just to be out of school, but also the sense of pressure to make use of their break.

I really appreciate Danny getting further into the details of his summary of the show's style on the previous page. It only makes sense that he had this much of a vision that early.

A second confirmation of the cul-de-sac being in America! I'm also really into the repeated focus on the Eds finding the world "contradicting." I always loved how EEnE's inexplicable cartoon antics supported that sense that the Eds are highly aware of contradictions in both societal things and the actual characters.

WOW, so I'm fascinated by this dual reveal. Before the wiggling outlines, which Danny usually calls a "boiling line" and describes as a tribute to wiggling inking in early animation, the series bible instead refers to him wanting the characters to do the iconic Fleischer "bounce," which is a much more commonly recognized rubberhose animation technique. Very interesting that Danny decided not to stick to that. Did it feel too out of place? Or was the overseas team not willing to animate a weight-shifting for every single held pose? Haha, guess I can see why boiling was an easier compromise. I wonder if he had any other ideas for how to make it more of a 1930s cartoon.

The other reveal to me here is that the movie's choice, that adults don't always wiggle in the show, was an idea from the very beginning! I guess I can better understand now why it's just too difficult to communicate a stylistic choice like that overseas-- no point making Bro not wiggle, that'd just create confusion.

Also, really disappointed that my wish for a musical is officially squashed in the series bible itself. That's a tragedy. The show's over, ya couldn't let me dream, Danny!? Conversely, I love Danny's forethought to say "non parody," I definitely noticed and appreciated EEnE's avoidance of derivative parody humor.

My spouse had to point out to me that Danny probably means sneakers here, lol. Canadianisms!

The comments about the Eds wanting to grow up but needing to figure out what they want to belong to are so great and relate to the movie so well. I've heard those comments before, but the correct phrasing was cool to see.

PAGE 3:

Ed, Edd n Eddy (image of Ed in right corner)

Character Description

Attention deficiency syndrome.

He has trouble...

He can't....um...

OK, he draws all day in class.

When Eddy gets a bright idea...Ed's in.

Ed is easily talked into doing Eddy's "hard work". He has great physical strength.

Ed's happiest with his Model kits and B-monster movies. He draws his knowledge from his movies.

Ed smells. Flies are attracted to him.

Ed has sayings for all situations

ED: "you can change your shirt, and Bingo was his name..."

Ed's perpetually a slave to his younger sister's whims and whines.

Ed may have to baby-sit his sister, or let her watch whatever she wants on TV, or let her dress him up in mom's clothes.

Ed breaks out in Rashes. He's allergic to practically everything, especially Guinea Pigs.

Ed's Mom xerox's his sketches and doodles for her therapist.

Ed's Dad hopes to pass on to his son, his knowledge on "pre-owned" auto sales.

Very cute bit wasting the space at the top of the page. Danny seems very invested in Ed's personality already. The old sources we used to have definitely tried to condense these down to simpler blurbs.

Weird how Danny wants to essentially diagnose Ed with ADHD here (phrasing it very poorly, but it was the 90s and... Canada?). I don't know enough on the subject to debate it, but I still gotta point out Ed's canonical cracked skull!

Interested in the comment about Ed being most allergic to Guinea Pigs. I don't think that animal was ever even mentioned in the show. Eddy mentioned an old gerbil once....

Neat to finally have the real phrasing of the official word on Ed's parents! I saw someone comment earlier that this seems to be hinting Ed's Dad is selling stolen cars. I've never thought to question the legality of his apparent second-hand-car dealership (I imagined he works with Eddy's dad, who has received a legitimate award for his salesmanship), but those quotation marks are certainly making Mr. Ed's practices questionable! Best case scenario, Danny meant that more like italics or something, but maybe Ed's dad IS up to no good...

PAGES 4 & 5 (Ed's turn sheet and expression sheet)

PAGE 6:

Ed, Edd n Eddy (image of Edd in right corner)

Character Description

Edd

is really smart.

is really quiet.

Edd is unnaturally-- polite.

Edd hasn't been allowed to take gym ever since the Dodge ball incident. He's been excused to free study time in the library.

Edd doesn't like it when people touch his things.

EDD: "You may enter in my room, but don't touch my Lego robot. Thank you."

Edd's learning to play Peddle steel guitar. (his Mom makes him)

Edd's prone to "crushes". Girls in School, in his neighborhood, TV, anatomy books. He mails "true loves" his socks.

Edd is always ready for action, even though he can calculate the implications.

Edd constantly mumbles.

No one ever sees Edd's parents. They both work nights. They communicate to their son solely through Post-it notes. Edd's not allowed to touch anything in the house while they're gone. Anything.

Interesting how Danny slightly differentiates the barely-used space at the top here from Ed's description, to characterize Edd as more quiet and mumbly, adding an awkward "--" mid-sentence, perhaps to create the impression that Edd halts to choose words carefully.

Everything on this page feels familiar, from the character guides and other old sources. The most interesting thing to me here is that Edd's Mom forcing him to practice Pedal Steel Guitar is established this early, don't think I knew that, but I had noticed that it existed in his room from ep 1.

I love how the explanation in the beginning for why Edd goes along with their dumb schemes even though he's smart is basically just "he's always ready for action." ?!? I guess in a way???

That weirdly phrased Edd quote amuses me because it references Lego, just like the original concept background for his room before somebody nixed the copyright-namedrop.

Edd's prone to crushes thing has been reaffirmed over and over in character bios even though it really doesn't come up outside of the cupid magic in HPH and the pilot-episode heart eyes at Sarah that are barely canon. Still, I've always loved the truly disturbing statement that he mails "his true loves his socks" and how that managed to make it into canon with a comic book example, a cel animation example and a digital era example.

PAGES 7 & 8 (Edd's turn sheet and expression sheet)

PAGE 9:

Ed, Edd n Eddy (image of Eddy in right corner)

Character Description

Eddy

Exhibitionist.

Megalomaniac. (quote from his report card)

Eddy is the unofficial leader of the trio.

He's always got a plan, a stunt or a weird noise.

Eddy's the "class clown". He loves showing off. He loves being the centre of attention-- no matter how stupid the reason is.

Eddy is the only kid in his grade to have been expelled for aw hole week from school. It was his turn to set up the video for science class. He switched "Our Friend Yeast", for a video he "borrowed" from his parent's room.

Before Eddy's brother went....away, he enlightened Eddy with the "legends" of the neighbourhood. Eddy knows where all the abandoned tree houses are, which sewer pipers are safe to spelunk, and the secret recipe for the "El Mongo Stink Bomb" (it's been in the family for years).

He is the one who is most able to pretend that he knows it all... and doesn't care what anyone else thinks about him.

His genes are working the fastest.

Eddy's Dad is constantly concerned that Eddy may grow up to be a ...figure skater.

Eddy's Mom never believes his little darling was involved in such a heinous act.

Funny choice that Eddy's wasted-top-space is just two one-word descriptions, and allegedly lazily swiped from his negative report card.

Wow, we knew the report card quote and the "Our Friend Yeast" story from the UK show guide, but now we also know Ed's page says that Ed draws in class, and now I realize that Ed and Eddy have series bible school blurbs to match Edd's classic dodgeball incident blurb. Anyway, it's great that Eddy's showed his entire school some sort of sex video his parents have.

Very interested that the phrasing for the Bro/El Mongo Stink Bomb blurb even seems to suggest it's a family recipe. Eddy's Dad did have prankster stuff in his closet in JJJ... did Bro learn his prankster ways from Dad?? The neighborhood's secret tree houses have come up in other descriptions (at best, I'd say this could be related to that creepy shack the Eds found in the woods), but I think it's new info that Eddy personally learned the sewer routes from Bro. Interesting...

Thankfully, I had already heard about the Bible's awkward reference to Eddy being the most pubescent as "his genes are working the fastest," lmao.

Once again the Double D in me comes out to point out that the description of Eddy's Mom seems to switch to the Dad's pronouns.

PAGES 10 & 11 (Eddy's turn sheet and expression sheet)

PAGES 12-14 (Sarah, Jimmy, Rolf, Jonny, Nazz, and Kevin lineup of all 6, then 2 zoomed in lineups of the first 3 kids and last 3 kids)

(Funfact: the kids' designs were allegedly freelanced to an outside studio, hence why their refined later-season designs are so different from these lizardy starting places, lmao)

PAGE 15: (images of Sarah and Jimmy next to their blurbs)

SARAH

Ed's baby Sister.

It's her way or the Highway.

She has everything done for her, if NOT she'll "make" them do it.

She can be quick to judge.

Whinney.

A tatrum for every occasion.

More than a handful for Ed...or Edd and Eddy.

Thinks Edd is kinda cute.

Wants Eddy to MOVE...to another planet.

JIMMY

Sarah's best friend

He is always playing with girls, boys are just too tough.

He is accident prone, when ever we see him he has a different affliction, ie: band-aids, patches, casts, lumps...etc.

He is very clean.

The Ed's frighten him, "They're such brutes".

I'm surprised how much of the UK guide was accurate to what was really in the bible for them! Also surprised Danny misspelled "whiney" and "tantrum," one right after the other. Is this how Sarah spells them? ...Sorry, Danny, I yam what I yam.

PAGE 16: (images of Rolf and Jonny next to their blurbs)

ROLF

First generation of a landed immigrant family.

Nationality not important.

He's proud of his heritage.

He has peculiar traditions and/or customs.

He eats "weird" things.

He has hair on his back..... "yuck".

He confuses the Ed's to no end.

He confuses the other kids to no end.

JONNY 2x4

He is a wanderer and very inquisitive

From early morning to supper time, he is always outside playing, with his buddy, "Plank".

"Plank" is a wooden board that Jonny drew a face on with a crayon.

Jonny has wonderful conversations with Plank. ...Plank is a piece of wood.

Jonny makes himself very "accessible" to the Ed's.

Found it interesting that Rolf's bio is less clearly phrased than the UK bio set it up to be-- there they made it sound more like he mixes up who the Eds/kids are, here it's unclear whether it means that or (more likely) just means the obvious statement that everyone finds him confusing. If it's that, what a lame hollow bio Rolf got. This kid's based on you Danny, show some of that personal side!

Always loved Jonny's description, his life sounds so cute. Playing outside literally all day. Interesting to have it confirmed that Jonny drew Plank's face, I preferred to think the Eds drew him and sold him to Jonny, but whatever.

"Accessible" has always been an important vague description of Jonny to me. It really only applies to how chummy they could be with him in season 1, but it still sorta applies to his personality throughout the series as well.

PAGE 17: (images of Nazz and Kevin next to their blurbs)

NAZZ

She's cool, calm and assertive.

She is the most matured of the kids, or so she thinks.

She's into make-up and fashion magazines and Boys.

Sarah thinks she's awesome, wants to be just like her when she grows up.

When she enters a scene, all activity stops... boys freeze, they sweat, their hearts beat faster and faster. They lose their ability to talk. When she leaves, they recover and conclude it was something They ate.

She thinks the Ed's are funny.

KEVIN

He is cynical and sarcastic.

He thinks he knows the "routine". That's because he watches "60 Minutes".

It got a big laugh out of me that Kevin's description is only 2 sentences long. Nazz even has a more detailed character description from inception than Kevin. Love this for them.

Who's the Eds' rival? Well, he's cynical, sarcastic and he watches 60 Minutes, doesn't that tell you enough!?

I love the "mature... or so she thinks" remark about Nazz, a grounded flaw for her to have, being a little overcommitted to being mature like Eddy. It also perhaps suggests naiveté that makes it a little more reasonable that they didn't notice they were dumbing her down at the end of the series, but I do think the movie version of her better reflects the Bible's concept.

PAGE 18:

The Other Neighborhood Kids

Lineup of May, Lee and Marie.

The Kanker Sisters

These gals are tough. They bother, bully, provoke and bewilder everyone.

They live in a motor home park on the other side of the Cul-de-sac. The other kids have never been there.

They are proud of their Tammy Faye Baker memorabilia.

Their project "Cooking with Ketchup" closed down their school for a whole week.

No one likes them, especially the Eds.

They are determined to marry the Eds. They want them to do their dishes.

Amused that the Kankers are essentially being labeled backgrounds characters here, the role they mostly fell into in season 5. "Other" neighborhood kids...

I love that the Kankers have a school blurb to match each of the Eds', and that theirs has similar destructive-intentions to Eddy's video premiere story.

I believe all of this was all known from the UK guide as well, but still, neat stuff!

PAGES 19 & 20 (zoomed in Kanker lineup and their height chart with the Eds)

PAGES 21 & 22 (early promo art that used to be on CN's old Eds webpage, the art of the Eds eating jawbreakers at the end of ep 1 with the overhead text "Ed, Edd n Eddy love JAWBREAKERS!!!", and the art of the Eds all running with overhead text "Ed, Edd n Eddy see something shiny...."Jiggers." That weird "jiggers" statement at the end was normally edited out and I don't know what it means. Looked it up and it seems to be Chinook jargon (like when Ed said he was "skookum at X's and O's") usually said in the same sense as "CHEESE IT!")

PAGES 23+:

The rest of the pages in that bible download are from a 2004 storyboard test. The storyboard sample "It's Raining Eds," which we've seen some submitted samples of before, interpretations with Ed attempting to fly or chew gum and Edd making radioactive gum, I was surprised to find out the outline is just the original outline for the opening sequence to season 3's 'For Your Eds Only', seemingly Jonny was not written into the original outline (or was excised for easier testing purposes) but Kevin's brief cameo was. Now I wonder if they knew this would be used for a test when they wrote it, and if they would've come up with a less random way to include him if weren't forced to be a concise bit for testing's sake. (Your limit is typically 40 storyboard pages in my experience.)

I also noticed that in the included background references, the anonymous adult neighbor house next door to Ed's is officially just referred to as a "generic house."

My analysis ends here, but be sure to download that sometime and enjoy all the raw storyboard sketches at the end of the document!

#ed edd n eddy #series bible #aka cartoon inc #aka cartoon #discovery #eene news

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Talk So Pretty, But Your Heart Got Teeth

AYO another day another oneshot as a part of the MGI Trope Tussle! BUT WAIT THERES MORE thanks to @nightlychaotic for letting me continue her oneshot that can be found HERE!

Fics Masterlist

Dickinette Oneshot 2.8K words

Summary:

“Nightwing was desperate to figure out Kit Noire. For reasons beyond professional.”

without further ado:

Some days, you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

It had been two weeks since Nightwing had last seen Kit Noire. While the lack of thefts and reported break-ins was doing wonders for his day job, he found his nightlife severely lacking its usual luster. He had done some research into her powers, cross-referencing with some of his more magically inclined coworkers. Aquaman had an interesting story about some god of destruction but it was Atlantean lore that led nowhere. He was drawing blanks on what his next move was going to be. Conflicted on whether to bring her to justice or to help her get justice.

His team was of no help either. Batman was adamant on chasing her out of Gotham, her destructive powers too dangerous in the city, while his siblings were more engrossed in teasing him about his affections for the cat thief. Jabs about ‘learned behaviour’ and ‘truly being the next Batman’ went ignored for his own piece of mind. He loathed to admit it but his intrigue in her, his adamance to be involved with her case, stemmed from less professional intentions. He was compromised in this investigation but he was unwilling to relent to anyone else.

Kit Noire was his to solve.

Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

He finally found her one night by the Gotham Harbour. She was in the middle of an altercation with the same guy who had stolen some grimoire from her. ‘Guardian’ he had called her.

Rather than intervene immediately, Nightwing hung back in the shadows, observing the two of them. The man was obviously much older than her and was particularly equipped to combat her style of fighting. He used what appeared to be a wooden staff and was dressed in Buddhist-inspired robes. Another piece to add into his investigation.

Their fight was approaching a stalemate, neither willing to yield to the other. Nightwing decided to make his presence known. A couple smoke bombs were tossed into the fray, halting the fight. Taking the opening, he jumped in between and threw two bolas at the old man. He was wrapped securely in the wires and collapsed gracelessly on the planks. Not giving him anymore attention, he moved to intercept Kit Noire; choosing the evil he knew over the one he didn’t.

“Sorry, songbird.” She spoke with more bite than usual, her frustration with the older man still clinging to her. “But I already have plans tonight. None that involves you sadly.”

“What?” His casual drawl, partnered with his carefully crafted smirk did nothing to placate the hissing cat in his arms. “I can’t let the kitty have all the fun.”

“Please,” she scoffs; she slackens in his hold only fractionally. “As if I need a little birdy like you to give me permission to do anything.”

She slipped under his grasp and shot a leg up directly into his chin. He was taken completely by surprise and before he could react, one of his own smoke bombs was thrown at his feet. He was disoriented and by the time he switched his mask to infrared, she was already gone with the older man. His discarded bolas were the only thing that remained between the clearing haze of smoke.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

He was pulling into the precinct parking lot for his morning shift with a poorly concealed bruise on his jaw and excuses already on his tongue for how it got there. His ego wasn’t fairing much better but that was concerns for his punching bag back at his home gym. Now, he was Dick Grayson, rookie cop at the GCPD. Now, his nighttime problems can’t reach him.

Or so he thought.

He didn’t make it ten feet into the building before detective Montoya was slamming a file into his chest. He quickly glanced into the file, partially listening to her debriefing of the case, then immediately wished he hadn’t. In the file there were pictures taken from the most recent crime scene and sitting on top of the pile was a picture of a wall from the local aviary. The words ‘Sorry about last night, Songbird -KN’ were spray painted in steel blue.

He felt his irritation flare as heat crept up his neck while a weight settled in the base of his spine. His warring feelings drowned out everything around him as he fixated on her very obvious declaration. Kitty Noire had been gaining infamy for never being caught by both the cops and the bats. Some in the precinct hadn’t believed she was actually real, just some urban legend the streets were stirring up to cause trouble. To let herself be caught like this, and to admit to contact with one of the bats— it didn’t take a genius to guess which side of the law she was calling out with ‘songbird’— was damning to say the least.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

It was another week before he was crashing into her midleap, throwing both of them down onto the nearest roof. They rolled a couple of times before he stopped them by pinning her down. Both of her arms were held above her head; his grips were tight around her wrists, avoiding her palms in fear of what her destructive powers could do. They were on top of the platform that had the doorway to the building’s stairs. Her distracting smirk curled up further as she was about to speak. Probably a suggestive comment but he wasn’t in the mood for their usual back and forth.

“Enough games, Noire.” He shifted his knees to brace on her shins, in case she had any ideas. “You need to tell me what’s going on. You’re bringing suspicious people into the city, dangerous people, and it’s my job to drive them out.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into the city,” she all but spat at him, the fury in her eyes burned bright at the accusation. “He tracked me here.”

“And he is…?” He was getting tired of being out of the loop, meta-abilities and magic are safety hazards if left unchecked in Gotham. He needs to put a lid on this before it spirals any further.

“He is my business and soon to be not a problem for the both of us.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You have no other choice, songbird. Above your paygrade, remember?” She mumbles something he doesn’t hear but from the shape of her lips it looked like Cataclysm. He didn’t have time to react before the roof was caving in under them.

The freefall was disorienting but he could see from his periphery that Kit Noire was prepared. She had extended her staff out to fit between two walls and was hanging on, dangling over what was probably twenty flights of steps. Nightwing wasn’t so lucky and he had to angle his fall to crash into steps a couple flights below her.

“It was nice crashing into you, songbird, but I have things to steal and people to rob.” Retracting her staff, she let herself freefall to the bottom floor of the building. Nightwing dove after her, shooting out his grappling line to one of the higher railings. She had reextended her staff, this time aiming for the height of the building, and was sliding down it like a pole. Banishing the improper thoughts of ‘Noire’ and ‘pole,’ he questioned how the staff was even able to extend that far.

Right, magic.

Once they were more comfortable feet above the bottom floor, she paused in her descent and let him over take her. He wasn’t given a chance to question her actions as she immediately swiped at his grappling line, snapping it with her rather sharp claws. This time he was prepared enough to brace himself for the fall. He landed on his feet and crouched to roll out of the harsh impact.

“I thought it was cats that landed on their feet, not birds,” her jeer echoed against the walls. He looked back up to see her rapidly climbing her staff. She was gaining distance fast and he was running out of options just as quickly. He didn’t trust climbing her staff so he took to climbing the steps from the railings, jumping and swinging himself around to gain altitude.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.” She had made it to the door that led back to the roof and her staff retracted in an instant. He was still a couple flights away but he knew he wasn’t going to catch her. He resigned himself to knowing that tonight was another failed night. He had let her go again.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

Something Kit Noire had said was bothering him. She said she was a hero once. That she had given it up because of accusations that ruined her reputation. He had half a mind to not believe her. Write it off as one of her tricks to try and get under his skin. But the other half, the louder, more desperate half, implored him to keep searching. To uncover the cat themed enigma he had grown frustratingly fond of.

He expanded his search, looking for anything or anyone cat themed with destructive powers. A deep web search had him discovering an old video. It was labeled ‘Reflectdoll’ and nothing else. It was a part of some long forgotten blog that had an entire catalogue of videos labeled in similarly vague ways. Desperate for answers, he rationalised that if anything else, he would cross this source and narrow the search further.

The video was quite the fanfare, looking something out of a movie with impressive CGI. He was about to label this video as another bust but something paused him in his tracks. Her. Kit Noire, or at least a younger version of her, lept into the action. Her and some ladybug patterned partner dealt with the fiasco and Nightwing watched, enthralled and hopeful, as the two worked to take down the foe. He was both impressed and even more confused because he recognised that infamous tower but had no memories of there ever being attacks of that caliber in the city of love. He had done several missions there over the years, and there was never any call for help or an attack to get his or the League’s attention.

Just what was going on?

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

He had her pinned again, one of his hands holding both of hers above her head, the other was fisting her braid in a tight pin. They were staring at each other, neither wanting to tip the scales in their own favor. The air was charged and each breath felt like one step closer to a dangerous precipice. Nightwing was struggling with what to do. He had a responsibility to this city. This was his home. And he was letting some magical ex-hero trample all over it because he let his infatuation get to his head. He was too involved but he didn’t care. She was his case to solve.

“Something you would like to share, songbird?” Her smirk was enticing and infuriating. He couldn’t look away.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“What? Is keeping me here not entertaining enough for you?”

“I’m not keeping you here for entertainment.”

“That could be rearranged.” She had surged up to kiss him, her lips soft and inviting. He would be a fool to pass up the opportunity.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

She was hurt. The old man found her again and left her with a painful reminder of who she was up against. Nightwing wished he could track him down and beat him to bloody pulp but right now he was more concerned with patching her up. She was lucky he found her when he did. The gash on her side would be easy to stitch but he first needed to get her to somewhere safe. His options were limited. No clinic would take them in, she was still a notorious criminal after all. Batman would have his head if he brought her to any of their safe houses. The cave was completely out of the question.

But she was still losing blood.

“Why the long face, songbird?” Her voice which was usually jovial was tinted with strain.

“Oh, you know, just getting blood on my suit while a cat bleeds out in my lap.” He tried to lighten the mood and her chuckles were relieving.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just need to find somewhere to put you.”

“Oh, is the birdy worried about his kitty cat?” She was teasing him, he knew, so he decided playing along would do more for his own peace of mind than trying to refute.

“And if he is?” He mirrored her own joking tone but he couldn’t help the taxes of sincerity that slipped in. She caught on if the slight widening of her eyes were an indicator.

“Oh.” The stunned look she had on her face would be adorable if it weren’t for their situation. “I have a place, not far from here you can drop me off there.”

“Lead the way,” he said, picking her up bridal style. If he pulled her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck then no one had to know.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Nightwing never noticed this before but Kit Noire was small. Her waist fit in the palms of his hands so well and her legs were slender and lean as they tied themselves around his hips. He looked like he could overwhelm her but he knew better. He knew how strong and dangerous she was but the mental image of just holding her down as she submits beneath him spurred him on further. Her lips were cherry sweet and intoxicating. And her weight on his thighs left him reeling, silently begging for more.

“Someone’s eager,” she had pulled away from his mouth to speak but rather than entertain any conversation he just moved to suck bruises into her jaw. The hand she had in his hair tightened and pulled at the short strands. Her breathing became laboured as she pants into the night sky. He wanted to coax out more reactions from her, wanted to see if she can really mewl like a cat.

A wayward hand had her grinding down harder in his lap. They were in their own bubble on this abandoned rooftop; it sat between two skyscrapers, both casting the roof in an almost impenetrable shadow, one would really have to be looking to see them. The sound of traffic below was nothing more than white noise, a background soundtrack for their current encounter. Using her grip in his hair, Noire dragged him up from her jaw and crashed their lips together again. Her kittenish licks asked for entrance and he eagerly granted it, savouring the taste of her as she mapped out his mouth with her tongue.

He gripped her tighter, not wanting to let go, blind in the pleasure of her lips and tongue and teeth.

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 4 years

Text

“It Was Hard To Breathe, And She Called To Me” -- Cordelia Goode x Reader

Long story short, I had a lot of feelings and anxieties about coronavirus when everything got bad back in March, and this was the product of that. I wasn’t going to post it (for multiple reasons), but after revisiting it I changed my mind. Hopefully it isn’t too rough!

Words: ~3,600

Warnings: Coronavirus, panic attacks, anxiety, hyperventilating, scratching (if anything about wearing masks or claustrophobia triggers you, I would skip this one!)

~Enjoy, my little peaches!~

It hadn’t hit you. The severity of it all, the effect all of this was having on the simplest things. Holed up in the academy, it hadn’t affected your day to day life, besides not being able to go out. Cordelia had strictly enforced the quarantine, but she didn’t let you girls go out during the week anyway, and your weekends were usually spent in her bed, the only real alone time the two of you got nowadays.

It made the sneaking around more fun, though, having to dodge prying eyes all seven days of the week. Never getting a break from the questions and the constant knocking on Cordelia’s door. Only able to steal kisses in the fleeting moments before dinner or deep into the night.

You had been so wrapped up in everything with Cordelia and so dead set on not watching the news, that you didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until you actually stepped foot in a grocery store.

You were all on a rotating schedule for groceries and errands, but so many girls had joined recently and Cordelia always needed you for something else, so you hadn’t gone out for groceries for roughly two and a half months. Until today.

It was Coco’s turn, but she had come down with a cough and Delia refused to let her leave her room. Nothing serious, she had said, but she wouldn’t let her leave if her immune system was even the slightest bit compromised.

You had volunteered to go, and Cordelia had looked at you with frantic eyes, but when Mallory innocently offered to cover your chores, there was no arguing, and before you knew it you were masked and gloved and fighting the New Orleans heat to get to the store.

The streets were empty, a few leaves blowing across the sidewalk in front of you the only sound. It made the hair at the back of your neck stand up, this once lively city now stark still and abandoned. But you brushed the uneasiness away, trudging along and relishing the air conditioning once you arrived.

Everything had gone well at first. You dug out your list, scratching a few things off quickly as you pulled them from the shelves. But then you were tasked with getting meat, and when you walked down the aisle, everything was gone. There were two containers of wrapped salmon, and that was it. No chicken, no beef, no pork. And you couldn’t pick up the salmon because one of the new girls had a fish allergy.

Twenty minutes later and you had found someone to help you, had had a garbled exchanged through your respective masks, and were waiting for them to pack you some new meat. Luckily, when you mentioned the school they recognized you and were willing to help.

After that it was toilet paper and napkins, but that aisle was also practically empty. Signs were put up saying “one of each”, so you grabbed whatever you could find. No hand soap, no disinfecting wipes.

What felt like hours later, you were snug in your place marker on the floor, waiting to check out. Tugging at your mask and cursing the stupid thing for exacerbating the heat and making the air entirely too thick. You swallowed down the thought that you couldn’t breathe, pushing a panic attack out of your mind.

You can breathe. It’s just fabric. Doctors do this all the time.

The woman at the register barely talked to you, only enough to tell you that you had to choose between the toilet paper and the napkins. When you referenced the sign, she clarified that it meant one of any, not one of each.

You shook your head incredulously as you thought about how sad it was that the world had come to this, and inevitably took too long to make a decision between the two.

Ultimately, the toilet paper won out. It should have been a no-brainer, given how many girls lived in that house, but somehow, with the panic attack ebbing and falling in your chest, you couldn’t think straight.

Your heart was pounding by the time the cashier finished scanning and bagging your items, and you tugged at your mask as it slid down your nose with your soft panting.

You remembered when Cordelia had given it to you, smiling as you tried it on for the first time. She had told you it suited you, and you grinned in the mirror because the blue pattern did look good against your skin.

That had been almost nine weeks ago. It hadn’t seemed that long, hadn’t seemed that bad. All you had used it for were your weekly walks with your girlfriend, and even then, you were more focused on her hand in yours and how her eyes crinkled around her own mask to notice.

But now, as you tapped your phone to the keypad and waited for it to process your payment, time started to stretch around you, the past lengthening as the cashier printed your receipt.

By the time you had left the store, the stress of the world was making the air press in around you.

And by the time you made it back to the iron gates of the academy, the panic had completely overtaken you.

Your arms were scratched raw, bags dragging you down and making you feel trapped in your own body. Your gloves were gone, torn through and lost somewhere along the way. The heat amplified the pounding of your heart, sweat pricking your neck as your head churned around the thought that you couldn’t breathe, there was no air.

Somehow you found your way to the kitchen, dropping the bags on the counter as the room spun around you. And when the girls started to trickle in and dig through the bags, you pushed past them. You needed to get out. You needed to be alone. You needed to breathe.

They called after you, voices echoing against the high ceilings of the building, and you dug your fingers into your hair and pulled, desperate for the pain to distract you from your thoughts.

But you didn’t even feel it, the room tilting and spinning and making you stumble against the walls.

You found the door to your room on instinct, reaching for the knob and pushing against it desperately when it didn’t budge. You froze, choking on your breath, but then you registered that you had to turn the handle. Then you would be safe. It would be quiet and calm and no one would find you.

No one would find you.

You could choke and suffocate and have a heart attack, and no one would know.

You twisted, pushed, and the door unstuck, hand slamming hard against wood as you desperately threw it open.

The door banged against the wall and you flinched, pushing your hands against your ears as your eyes frantically searched the room for somewhere to sit. Somewhere to stay. Somewhere to hide.

Quiet, quiet, quiet.

You needed quiet.

The only thing you could register was your breathing, hard and fast and out of control. It was out of control. You were out of control.

The room was too hot and you couldn’t get enough air in and you thought you might suffocate, your chest tightening as you pulled and tugged and scratched at your ankles.

You hadn’t realized you had curled in on yourself, pressed against the wall beside your dresser, but it felt better like this. Safer like this. If you could get down low and tuck yourself away, the world would melt down and nothing could hurt you.

Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch.

Footsteps broke through your racing thoughts, steady at first until something clattered to the floor. You flinched at the sound and suddenly heels were clicking roughly against the wood, closer and closer and louder and louder.

You whimpered, digging your face further down between your knees.

“Y/N?”

The voice was warm, panicked, and hands on your shoulders made you cry out, breath wheezing as you struggled to breathe faster, take in more air.

There was no air in this room. There was no air on this earth.

The harder you sucked air in, the tighter your chest constricted, pushing it back out of your body and leaving your mind spinning with a lack of oxygen.

When the person spoke again they sounded farther away, muffled, their words barely seeping into your brain between the pounding of blood in your ears.

“Look at…don’t…slow down….I’ve got…you can…why don’t…can you….”

You whined against the sound, fingers digging into your scalp. And you hadn’t registered your hands over your ears until they were being pulled down and away and the world was forced back into full stereo around you.

“Y/N, look at me, breathe, you’re alright.”

“No no no no no,” you started, batting at their hands and digging your palms back over your ears as you rocked.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just me. It’s me.” Cooing, shushing, pulling for your hands again. Gentler, calmer. Slowly peeling them off of your ears and smoothing them down onto your knees.

“Stupid stupid stupid stupid,” you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as warm hands enveloped yours, tracking small circles over the back of your wrists.

“No, Y/N. You’re not stupid. Shhh. You’re not stupid.”

Suddenly there were thumbs tracing your palms, rubbing lines and patterns firmly into them. And it grounded you enough that you registered the voice that was talking to you.

You lifted your head from your knees and looked up with bleary eyes, the room swimming around you as tears streaked down your face. You blinked against them, the light refracting in them too much of a sensory overload.

But then there were fingers there, wiping at your cheeks and clearing your vision, so soft and so tender.

And she was there. Right there. Close enough that she could reach every inch of you, but far enough to give you space to breathe.

Something shiny glinted behind her and you glanced over, registering a tray and a shattered tea cup laying abandoned in the doorway.

Your breathing quickened again at the thought that you had done that. She had dropped that tray because of you. Shattered the cup because of you. A mess. Everything was a mess. You were a mess, that was a mess, the world was a mess.

“Shhh shh shh,” she cooed, pressing her hands hesitantly to your cheeks, the warmth distorted by something rough. “It’s okay. None of that. I’m right here. Take a deep breath.”

Something inside of you shattered with her words, heart plummeting as your chest constricted again. You clawed at your shirt, heat pressing in on you again.

“I- I can’t,” you choked out, pulling and yanking at your collar to force space around you. “I c-can’t breathe, Delia.”

Her name was more of a plea than anything else. Desperation to fix everything, fix the thickness of the air, fix the panic coursing through your veins, fix—

She shushed you again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Sweet girl, let’s take this off, alright?”

And you nodded, assuming she meant your shirt. Assuming she was trying to help you cool off.

But fingers behind your ears startled you, and your eyes flashed open, frantic as they searched her face. She only smiled, soft and delicate as her fingers dug under elastic and pulled, looping the bands of your mask from around your ears and pulling the fabric away.

You sucked air in like you hadn’t breathed in a thousand years, hands flying out to her shirt and grounding yourself in the satin there. And then you blinked, heart rate slowing as she folded the mask in front of you and set it down.

You hadn’t realized you had still been wearing it.

You hadn’t even thought.

Her hand on your chin caught your attention and she tipped your face up so that you were looking her in the eye.

“Better?” she murmured, eyes soft as she tried to gauge your reaction.

And tears pooled in your eyes because it was. Infinitely. But not because your mask was gone. It was better because she was here.

Your breaths stuttered and you sniffed, and then Cordelia was right there, hands cupping your face.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Her brows pushed up as she searched your eyes, and then she pulled your head to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

You grounded yourself against the feel of her, her heartbeat quick against your cheek, and you could feel her heavy breathing as yours finally slowed.

Her fingers tracked over your spine, tapping as they hit the bumps of your vertebrae, one by one. She cooed at you, she shushed you, she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, her other hand skimming through your hair.

Suddenly the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, and just like that, the world felt normal again. Everything aligning and righting and slowing down around you.

And you broke.

You cried for what could have been hours, gripping your fingers further into her shirt and twisting and folding and rubbing the fabric together against the pads of your fingers. And all the while she sat with you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair and rocking you softly, back and forth and back and forth.

By the time your sobs subsided into sniffles you could hear the girls bustling downstairs, pots clattering somewhere in the distance and soft arguments drifting up the stairs.

Cordelia didn’t pull away, though. Her grip on you stayed constant, wrapped tightly in her arms as her chest pushed into yours with every breath.

She let you break the embrace, sniffing as you pushed a kiss to her jaw and pulled away to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” you started, the only words you could comprehend after your brain had churned itself inside out.

“No no,” she chided, finger coming up to shush you. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I—“

She cut you off again, leaning forward and brushing her lips over your nose. “No.”

You swallowed, nodding softly as she stared you down, a small smile on her lips as she almost dared you to try again.

You cleared your throat, coughing lightly. “I didn’t know I would have such an issue going out.”

She nodded, brow creasing as her thumb came up to wipe a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t realized you were crying again.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she tried, head tilting.

You shook your head, unsure that you would be able to put your feelings into words. But somehow they fell out of your mouth anyway.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” you started, fingers tapping against Cordelia’s arm as the empty aisles and numbered tiles flashed through your mind again. “I mean, I had heard you all talking about it, but I brushed it off as nothing. I didn’t— But being there, finding half of the grocery list out of stock… What is happening to this country?”

Your voice cracked as your breaths started to wheeze, eyes searching Cordelia’s face frantically as you shook your head.

But she shushed you before you could work yourself up again, pressing her hand against your chest and splaying out her fingers.

“Look at me,” she said gently, eyes soft. You did. “Put your hand on my heart, darling. Okay?”

You nodded, reaching up and mimicking her, spreading your fingers out and pressing in until you found her heartbeat. The feel of it grounded you, and you noted that it was pounding quickly beneath her ribcage.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, eyes flicking up to hers. All she did was smile, pressing firmly against your chest.

“Breathe with me, darling. Can you do that? Breathe with me.”

Her thumb tapped against your chest and you felt it reverberate through you, slowing your heart rate.

“In for four,” Cordelia started, her thumb tapping four times, slowly.

You complied, inhaling in time with her.

“Hold for four,” she said, searching your face as her thumb tapped four more times.

You held her gaze, your heart rate slowing as you held your breath.

“And out for eight,” she sighed, releasing a long breath as her thumb tapped eight times.

You watched her as you deflated, the way she was holding onto your eye contact like a lifeline. The way her brow was creased down the middle, just barely. The way color had risen into her cheeks, flushing them a dark pink.

“There,” she tried, leaning into your hand on her chest.

There was a long silence, you relishing the way her hand felt against you, relishing the steadiness of her breathing, the warmth seeping through her shirt.

When you looked back up at her, you realized she hadn’t moved her gaze from your face the entire time. Guilt washed through you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you started, hand falling from her chest. But before you knew what was happening, she had scooped it up in both of hers and pushed it back into place.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said softly, offering you a reassuring smile.

You tilted your head, brow furrowing.

“You worried the hell out of me, but you didn’t scare me.”

You laughed then, something light expanding out through your chest. And then you were practically tackling her in a hug, wrapping your arms around her shoulders as you squeezed her to you and settled down in her lap.

“How are you always so strong?” you asked softly, nuzzling your nose against her pulse point. Her hands found your hair on instinct, threading through your curls.

“I’m not,” she answered quietly, and you hummed as she trailed off. A moment later she found her voice, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You say that I’m strong, but I’m just as frightened as you.”

You pulled back, brow furrowed. “Delia…”

“What gets me through, though,” she continued, fingers trailing from your hair back down to your heart, “is this.”

You blinked at her, nose twitching. “My heartbeat?”

She nodded, pulling your hand back to her chest. “Do you feel that?”

“Of course,” you replied, fingers twitching on her shirt.

“That is all that matters right now. Alright?”

You shook your head, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand…”

She leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss between your brows. “This heartbeat, your heartbeat,” she started, fingers fidgeting against your chest, “is the only thing that matters to me. We do the best we can, day by day. We count our blessings and help people who are suffering. And that’s it. That’s all that’s in our control.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You hummed, pushing your forehead against hers and melting into the feel of her. The comfort of her so close, so strong.

Her nose brushed against yours as she spoke again, breaking the silence that had settled.

“We are healthy, we are safe. And that is all that matters.”

You nodded, fingers finding her shoulders and scratching lightly in acknowledgement. You felt her sigh, and you let out a long breath, the pressure and stress of the day finally deflating out of you and leaving you weak and pliable in her arms.

Cordelia nudged her nose against yours, prompting your eye contact. She watched you, eyes lidded and questioning, and waited for your soft nod. And as she leaned in and kissed you, softly, gently, purposeful and delicate, you realized that she was absolutely correct. As long as you had her, nothing else mattered.

She cupped your cheek as she deepened the kiss and you parted your lips, moaning at the comfort of her and the warmth that was pooling through you at her touch. The familiarity. The inevitable protection that came with it.

Before you knew what was happening your hands were up under her shirt, sitting straighter in her lap so you could roll your hips down over hers. Her mouth was locked to your neck and your eyes were screwed shut. Until you heard a thump outside the door and a soft “Miss Cordelia?”

Your eyes flew open as Cordelia froze and you had time to register one of the newer girls standing wide-eyed in the doorway. And then there were fifteen more girls there, all piled around each other, mouths agape.

You heard one of them whisper “I knew it!” and then you dissolved into laughter, burying your face into Cordelia’s shoulder as she chuckled in your ear.

Madison’s heels came clacking down the hallway before either of you could say anything, and as you lifted your head from Cordelia’s shoulder, you met her eyes.

“Oh come on, you pervs,” Madison groaned, batting at the girls and reaching for the door. “Don’t you have better things to do than peep on a lame-ass make out sesh?”

The giggling subsided and the door clicked, and you pulled back, looking at Cordelia.

Your brow popped. “Lame-ass?”

She shook her head, biting down on a smile. “Make out sesh.”

You cackled at her sarcasm, and the way she was looking at you — her smile growing yours, yours growing hers, her eyes entirely too hungry for your own good — you thought that maybe being quarantined wasn’t the worst thing, after all.

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket @shineestark @duchessfics @darling-dontforgetme @midnight-lestrange @nerdaroo @pradababey @mssallymckenna

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warsofasoiaf · 3 years

Note

Its been awhile since you've done any character analysis on Fallout New Vegas, but would you be willing to go into one for some of the minor characters? I'm actually curios of your opinion on Silus the captured centurion and his motivations.

I’m more than happy to, although this won’t be about Silus so much as it will be about the quest Silus Treatment. It’s one of my favorite quests in the game, since it does a great deal just with dialogue and some creative use with the engine to create an engaging quest that showcases some of the failures of the NCR and the Legion. Given that the central theme is about picking a faction, warts and all, having a quest that puts the two main faction of New Vegas on full display is an absolutely good idea. The game is too old for spoilers, but it’s a long analysis so I’ll put a cut in.

Silus Treatment starts off simple enough, going to Camp McCarran, in the old McCarran International Airport, now the regional command post of Colonel Hsu. McCarran is not in a great spot when you first get there; there are periodic Fiend attacks, tensions in Freeside are causing havoc for NCR civilians, the overstretched NCR supply lines are making it difficult even for their central point of operations, and there’s a strong possibility that they’ve been infiltrated. It’s all Colonel Hsu can do to keep order and function in the base. Perfect protagonist fodder, in other words, for a nice quest hub.

It’s a tough needle to thread in any RPG to build a quest hub where there’s stuff for a character to do. If everyone is incapable of solving even the most basic of problems, it gives a great deal of quests for the player to do but it makes the quest-givers look incompetent, especially if the quest-givers are supposed to be capable figures in their own right. Conversely, if the NPC’s are competent, then the quests would be solved and that would close out on content for the player. There’s plenty of ways to settle this, and the devs do an adequate job here. The war effort means prioritization, and Hsu is dealing with being torn from both angles. He can’t just hunt down the Fiends, because he needs to organize patrols and deal with NCR settlers in the area. He can’t just pacify Freeside because it will engender hostility with House and so he’s delaying the order from his butcher superiors like Moore to go in with fire and sword. He doesn’t have a solution to the Kings but he’s trying to find one, which as far as writing goes is a good solution. Hsu is a decent man but overworked. He’s hoping that he can develop a solution in time before Cassandra Moore decides to pull rank and go on the warpath against all who oppose the NCR, which leaves a convenient spot for the player.

It’s this person that gives us our introduction to the Silus Treatment questline. Hsu has a valuable prize: Silus, a captured Legion centurion! Typically centurions always commit suicide rather than be captured to deny any useful intelligence to the enemy, so to capture a centurion alive should be quite a find. But it’s not going so well. Lt Carrie Boyd, in charge of base security, can’t get Silus to talk. Again, perfect quest writing to get the PC involved in the plot. Normally such a sensitive operation would never be given to an unknown civilian contractor, even for a bureaucratic mess like the NCR. Frontier desperation, hitting a wall via official channels, and the fact that the character is the protagonist in a sprawling open world help it pass ludonarrative muster.

Boyd is a real piece of work, she’s openly sadistic hiding beneath of veneer of civility. She considers the humane treatment of POW’s as an impediment, and so looks for ways around it. Notably, while she wants information from Silus to deliver to her superiors, she’ll settle for just having Silus beaten so bloody that he can’t speak anymore, calling it “entertainment.” This is a person who simply should not be in charge of interrogating a prisoner, she is neither humane nor effective at her job, but here she is by virtue simply of being the chief MP on base.

Not that Silus, the prisoner and the other side of this duo, is better. He openly revels in the barbaric practices of the Legion’s slavery system, even trying to ensure that the slaves can never achieve some level of comfort by tightening the collars and making it difficult for them to feel at ease while eating or drinking. Even if Silus is mostly saying those things simply to get a rise out of Lieutenant Boyd, he knows what the Legion is up to and enjoys it. Silus is arrogant to an extreme degree, he is filled with confidence that he can outlast any interrogation by the feeble NCR without giving up any intelligence, that he could easily escape NCR confinement and that he is so valuable to the Legion that following Caesar’s order would be a waste. Good fodder then, for the protagonist to bring him down to size.

Silus Treatment as a quest is relatively simple. Boyd signs off on the Courier beating the ever-living tar out of Silus and then steps out for a smoke, letting the player do whatever he or she wants to the prisoner. Silus, sneering, dismisses the Courier as just another piece of NCR trash, and it’s up to the player with how to succeed. Violence is always an option, you can beat Silus, and eventually gets something useful, that the base itself will be the target of Legion destruction. Silus admits that his fantasy of escape was always a fantasy, he was dead to Caesar just as surely as he as if he had committed suicide before capture.

Yet if the Courier has points in Speech or Intelligence, he can completely upend Boyd’s methods and actually deliver a worthwhile interrogation. The first technique, with speech, uses an interrogation technique known as Pride-and-ego-down, where the interrogator routinely belittles and demeans the prisoner, usually their technical competence or soldierly qualities, in an attempt to get the prisoner to “redeem” themselves by explaining a piece of useful intelligence that would explain the deficiency as opposed to it just being a terrible personal quality. The Courier mocks Silus as a coward (bravery being a key soldierly virtue) and he defends himself by stating his bravery and that suicide is a poor death for a soldier of his intelligence and caliber, then saying how good a soldier he is for a “self-appointed megalomaniacal dictator.” Silus then spills that Caesar held his unit for three days because of “headaches,” in actuality, it’s Caesar’s brain tumor. The technique works to an exceptionally high degree, not only does Silus divulge that McCarran has been infiltrated as in the violence ending, but also that the Legion is suffering a crisis of command due to Caesar’s illness. The Courier gets a lot of useful intelligence out of Silus and doesn’t compromise the humane treatment of prisoners in the process. If it actually caused some self-reflection in Boyd, that’d be a complete win, but I suppose we can’t have everything.

My favorite option is the intelligence option, because the Courier goes full-on PSYOPS, posing as a Legion assassin sent to kill Silus for his failure to commit suicide on Caesar’s order. Silus denies it at first, but as the Courier continues to sell the performance, Silus begins to express real terror at the thought that the Courier is actually a frumentarius sent to kill Silus before he divulges anything to the NCR. The Courier fully sells the deal using Latin phrases as the language of Caesar’s elites. The Courier can quote Cicero, “legum servi sumus” - we are all slaves to the law, in what is perhaps a perfect example of Caesar’s philosophy of totalitarian obedience. The full quote "Legum servi sumus ut liberi esse possimus” - we are slaves to the law so that we might be free, means little in Caesar’s totalitarian state where all are subject to his whims and contingency plans for Caesar’s incapacity aren’t even considered. Of course, the Roman Republic was hardly a free state, but Caesar really takes the cake with his dictatorship. If Caesar’s dictum holds true: “Corruptio optimi pessima” - the corruption of the greatest is the worst outcome. how much worse is it when Caesar himself is corrupted? But totalitarians rarely raise the possibility that they themselves are corrupt, because the good of the dictator is the good of the state. After all, L'etat c'est moi is the dictum of any dictator, not just a Sun King.

Of course, fitting New Vegas, you can side with Silus, and facilitate his escape. There, you feign beating him to unconsciousness and slip him a silenced pistol, then Silus makes good his escape, killing the guard sent to bring him back to his cell and sneaking out. Of all the endings, this one isn’t as satisfying. Some of it, of course, is that you never interact or see Silus again, so there’s never any reward to the quest except for the knowledge that the base is infiltrated, which in the pro-Legion side of the quest I Put a Spell on You allows you to complete Curtis’s sabotage operation (and a far better Legion quest, in my opinion, with the NCR quest side being even better given the multiple outcomes), but also it’s not referenced again with Caesar. What would Caesar’s reaction be to the Courier springing Silus? He is quite fond of reciting a litany of the Courier’s accomplishments in Act 2 at Fortification Hill.

If I could improve Silus Treatment, I think I would have made it so the violent path wouldn’t have produced enough valuable intel, and the player needs to do some more detective work to actually get to I Put a Spell on You, or even being mislead by Curtis and becoming the unwitting patsy of the Legion. But overall, I think it was an incredible quest and a testament to the writing in the game.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#fallout: new vegas

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