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insanityclause · 4 years ago

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SPOILER ALERT: This article contains details of the first five episodes of Disney+’s Loki, & maybe the finale. Maybe.

As always with almost any project from the Kevin Feige run studio, that ride could continue, at least in some form or another. Certainly, the June 9 ‘Glorious Purpose’ premiere of the Michael Waldron penned and Kate Herron directed Loki proved to be the Disney+ and the MCU’s biggest small screen success so far. Also with any Marvel project, past Emmy winner Hiddleston was elusive on what could be coming next, be it in the Loki finale, another season or another appearance in the movies as the MCU shifts into its next phrase.

One thing is clear, after a decade playing the God of Mischief, Hiddleston still has a lot of Loki on the brain, in the best way.Leading towards the finale, I chatted with a UK-based Hiddleston about returning to play Loki and the search for who or what controls the seemingly all knowing, all powerful Time Variance Authority. The Night Manager star also spoke about filming during the coronavirus pandemic, working with Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Wunmi Mosaku, Richard E. Grant, and Sophia Di Martino, who portrays variant and soulmate Sylvie, and his upcoming AppleTV+ series The Essex Serpent with Claire Danes.

DEADLINE: There’s a great line in this season’s penultimate episode where your Loki and Sylvie are stunned at watch Richard E. Grant’s Classic Loki recreate Asgard to distract Alioth and you say “I think we��re stronger than we realize.” There seems to be a great resonance in the line that there’s a whole lot of Loki coming in the finale and probably more …

HIDDLESTON: I suppose it resonates with the theme that we all wanted to highlight about purpose and about meaning. Loki’s someone who’s probably been deluded by the idea that he’s burdened with glorious purpose, and that perhaps that purpose has been revealed to be fraudulent or meaningless, and maybe his self-image or the role that he has condemned himself to play is redundant.

His experiences through this story have shown him that there are actually more opportunities available to him, and you know, it speaks to this idea, like, can we change? Can we evolve, and in that evolution, is there room to grow? You know, so, I think the stronger than we realize I think is Loki finally understanding that, really, by caring for other people, that maybe there’s power in that, and I found that very touching, and the whole thing is an extraordinary dream.

DEADLINE: Speaking of an extraordinary dream, you have been playing Loki for a decade now, since the first Thor movie, We know you are going to do some voice work in the animated What If…? series, but how has it been having this series directly centering on him, in all his variants, so to speak?

HIDDLESTON: You know Dominic, I have enjoyed it so much, because I felt it was a gift and a privilege to be invited to come and sit at the table and think about what the show might be. Also, I suppose so many of the things that I’ve discovered about Loki as a character in the comics and a character in the Norse myths, in the canon, aspects that I’ve always thought were interesting, and understandably, there hasn’t been time or space in the movies to explore them.

DEADLINE: In terms of who he is?

HIDDLESTON: Those aspects of him have been externalized and embedded into this new story about identity itself and about integrating the disparate fragment of the many selves that he is or perhaps the many selves that we are. You know, we contain multitudes. Loki certainly contains multitudes. We have met many of those multitudes, including Alligator Loki (laughs).

DEADLINE: Sounds like you’re not done with those multitudes yet. From your POV, from conversations with Kevin (Feige) is there more that you see for the character as the MCU heads into its next stages?

HIDDLESTON: Well, I certainly don’t have Kevin’s brain or encyclopedic knowledge or capacity for invention. I’ve been on the ride for a while, and it’s been the most extraordinary journey, and to have lived through different iterations, different phases of the MCU, and I’m so grateful that I’m still here, and it’s been amazing to watch. I feel that the MCU is even more expansive, is even braver, more inclusive than it’s ever been.

DEADLINE: How so?

HIDDLESTON: I think the stories are getting really exciting. Not that they weren’t before, but I think they understand that the investment of the audience is very deep, and they don’t take it for granted for a second. So, yeah, I suppose the perspective I have on how Loki might affect the ongoing course of the MCU is this idea of the multiverse. People have already understood it when Miss Minutes is introducing Loki to the TVA. She talks about the multiverse and the war and that the sacred timeline, which is reality as we know it.

DEADLINE: It opens up the aperture certainly for new stories from all opportunities, doesn’t it?

HIDDLESTON: It raises questions of, well, maybe there are other parallel or alternate universes. Maybe there are other realities, and the possibilities there are endless. I feel that at the end of episode five, Loki and Sylvie are close to discovering the answers to the questions that they have of who is behind the TVA and that, somehow, this will provoke even more curiosity about…

DEADLINE: …Because in the Marvel Universe, answering one set of questions always leads to another set of questions, in many ways.

HIDDLESTON: Right. Yeah. Yeah, and I know that there are lots of, you know, interesting titles of movies that’ve been announced, which kind of hint at where it might be going.

DEADLINE: One of those that hasn’t been officially announced, but is rumored is a Season 2 for Loki, in gear under the temporary title of Architect on call sheets and the like …

HIDDLESTON: Well, yes, maybe, as I say, all the kind of multiple alternate realities are …it’s taken me 10 years to get a handle on this sort of mono timeline. The idea that this might be a multiverse is actually beyond my knowledge of physics.

DEADLINE: Well, I doubt that, but let me ask, and no spoilers for the finale or further, but if Kevin, Marvel, Disney asked you to do more Loki, are you game?

HIDDLESTON: (laughs) I have learned, at this point, having said goodbye to the character more than twice, two and a half times maybe, to make no assumptions. So, I’m also aware that I’m only playing him because of the audience, really. So, it’s not up to me. But I do love playing him, and every time, I seem to find new, interesting things about him. So, yeah, I’m a temporary passenger on Loki’s journey, but we’ll see. We’ll see where the ride goes now.

DEADLINE: On the ride, as the finale looms, there’s a ton of fan speculation out there and so much that people have hooked on to from the show. So, as the man at the center of it, what was your favorite part of Loki the series?

HIDDLESTON: That there was meaning in the making of it.That we crossed the finish line in the middle of a global pandemic and could create something, and more than ever, I felt really grateful for being able to do this job. I think in this there are some of those questions that we were all asking ourselves in the last 18 months in the show, you know, what do our lives mean?📷I love taking Loki in new directions. I love the contributions of my fellow actors, of Owen Wilson and Sophia Di Martino and Richard E. Grant and Gugu Mbatha-Raw, and Wunmi Masaku, they all brought so much to the table, and I’ll always remember that. You know, I’ll always remember just being in Atlanta with all of them and making our bonkers show. Yeah.

DEADLINE: Making your bonkers show in Atlanta as the world, as America was still in the heat of the pandemic. What was that like, because you were in production and then everything stopped and then you came back, right?

HIDDLESTON: I mean, people have used this word a lot, but it really was unprecedented. I think we did six weeks of filming before the hiatus, and then the production was suspended for four or five months, and we came back. At first, it was unfamiliar because we had to make adjustments, but the thing I remember most of all, quite honestly, is the diligence and resilience and spirit of our cast and crew.

DEADLINE: Really?

HIDDLESTON: Yes, and it remains extremely special for me, this project, for that reason.For me, it just demonstrated the character of these amazing people. It took a huge amount of planning and care and looking after each other. By that, I mean, being in the bubble. So, for many of us, the only other human beings we saw, really, were each other. So, we came to work, and we became a team, and the circumstances fostered this extraordinary team spirit, and so the memory of making it is really my incredible and deep respect and affection for my fellow filmmakers. People like Trish Stanard, our line producer. Richard Graves, our first AD. Kristina Peterson, our second AD. Autumn Durald, DP. Kevin Wright, our supervising producer, and so many others making sure everyone could stay safe and look after each other.It’s really…I find it…it’s very moving, and it’s remarkable, and I just want to salute them all because I couldn’t have done any of it without them.

DEADLINE: In that vein, you have just come off filming The Essex Serpent with Claire Danes for AppleTV+. Very different from Loki, and yet also a tale of what is real and who we are. Is that what attracted you to it on some level?

HIDDLESTON: I read it and immediately connected to it. Read the screenplay, the adaptation. It’s based on a novel by Sarah Perry, which was published in 2016 and is set at the end of the 19th century. It’s an extraordinary story about uncertainty and about our deepest fears and how sometimes our fears can distort our imaginings and how our minds can lie to us. About how we have to guard against that, and Perry sets it in this extraordinary time with a beautiful leading character of Cora Seaborne, played by Claire. Anna Symon adopted it.

There’s this community on the east coast of England who believe that an ancient beast has been awakened by an earthquake and that it’s dislodged all these fossils. But perhaps, it has also dislodged this ancient underwater monster, which has been used to explain certain unusual phenomena. This was in the era when Darwin had just been published a few decades before and people are starting to think, this Charles Darwin, he’s onto something. Still, fear spreads very quickly, and it’s a very fascinating time where science and faith are in conflict.

DEADLINE: When you describe it like that it sounds very Loki indeed.

HIDDLESTON: Maybe the themes are very Loki. Maybe that’s where they join up, but I’m playing a 19th century vicar who is trying to contain his community. You feel very destabilized by all these rumors. So, yeah, to go from Loki to a vicar was definitely new, a new territory.

DEADLINE: Literally and figuratively?

HIDDLESTON: Well, it’s my first significant time in Essex, where we filmed, which I feel embarrassed about. I’ve been to Essex before, but I’ve never been to the very, very eastern, most eastern coast of Essex. It’s the Blackwater Estuary, which then feeds into the River Thames, and it’s a very ancient part of England. It’s so marshy, it’s where in Great Expectations, that’s where Pip meets Magwitch for the first time. It’s all foggy and muddy and marshy and quite atmospheric and a perfect place to set a story about of uncertainty and fear and gothic romance. Clio Barnard directed it, and working with her has been amazing.

DEADLINE: You know, it occurs to me that of all the main Marvel characters, Loki has been such a constant, yet so ethereal in so many ways too. Is it jarring for you to jump back into the role with all the uncertainty it brings?

HIDDLESTON: You know, I’ve always seen it as sort of an extraordinary and surprising constant in my life for a decade. But, I don’t take it for granted because I don’t often…you know, it may end. It has actually ended, and those endings have been conclusive. I really thought a couple of years ago, after I made Avengers: Infinity War, you know, we all know what happens in that scene, and I thought, that’s it.I thought it’s over, and I was really proud to have been part of it. I was grateful for my time, but I thought that, my work would go off in a different direction. So, the idea that I got to come back and have another go was a complete delight, it truly was.

#Tom Hiddleston #Interview #Loki #The Essex Serpent

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twh-news · 4 years ago

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‘Loki’s Tom Hiddleston Teases Marvel Series Finale, What It All Means & Is There More Of The God Of Mischief To Come?

By Dominic Patten | Deadline

SPOILER ALERT: This article contains details of the first five episodes of Disney+’s Loki, & maybe the finale. Maybe.

EXCLUSIVE: “I have learned, at this point, having said goodbye to the character more than twice, two and a half times maybe, to make no assumptions,” says Loki’s Tom Hiddleston as the hours tick away to the finale of the Disney+ series drops early on Wednesday morning. “We’ll see where the ride goes now,” the Marvel alum adds. As always with almost any project from the Kevin Feige run studio, that ride could continue, at least in some form or another. Certainly, the June 9 ‘Glorious Purpose’ premiere of the Michael Waldron penned and Kate Herron directed Loki proved to be the Disney+ and the MCU’s biggest small screen success so far. Also with any Marvel project, past Emmy winner Hiddleston was elusive on what could be coming next, be it in the Loki finale, another season or another appearance in the movies as the MCU shifts into its next phrase.

One thing is clear, after a decade playing the God of Mischief, Hiddleston still has a lot of Loki on the brain, in the best way.

Leading towards the finale, I chatted with a UK-based Hiddleston about returning to play Loki and the search for who or what controls the seemingly all knowing, all powerful Time Variance Authority. The Night Manager star also spoke about filming during the coronavirus pandemic, working with Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Wunmi Mosaku, Richard E. Grant, and Sophia Di Martino, who portrays variant and soulmate Sylvie, and his upcoming AppleTV+ series The Essex Serpent with Claire Danes.

DEADLINE: There’s a great line in this season’s penultimate episode where your Loki and Sylvie are stunned at watch Richard E. Grant’s Classic Loki recreate Asgard to distract Alioth and you say “I think we’re stronger than we realize.” There seems to be a great resonance in the line that there’s a whole lot of Loki coming in the finale and probably more …

DEADLINE: In terms of who he is?

DEADLINE: How so?

DEADLINE: It opens up the aperture certainly for new stories from all opportunities, doesn’t it?

DEADLINE: …Because in the Marvel Universe, answering one set of questions always leads to another set of questions, in many ways.

HIDDLESTON: Right. Yeah. Yeah, and I know that there are lots of, you know, interesting titles of movies that’ve been announced, which kind of hint at where it might be going.

DEADLINE: One of those that hasn’t been officially announced, but is rumored is a Season 2 for Loki, in gear under the temporary title of Architect on call sheets and the like …

DEADLINE: Well, I doubt that, but let me ask, and no spoilers for the finale or further, but if Kevin, Marvel, Disney asked you to do more Loki, are you game?

HIDDLESTON: That there was meaning in the making of it.

That we crossed the finish line in the middle of a global pandemic and could create something, and more than ever, I felt really grateful for being able to do this job. I think in this there are some of those questions that we were all asking ourselves in the last 18 months in the show, you know, what do our lives mean?

I love taking Loki in new directions. I love the contributions of my fellow actors, of Owen Wilson and Sophia Di Martino and Richard E. Grant and Gugu Mbatha-Raw, and Wunmi Masaku, they all brought so much to the table, and I’ll always remember that. You know, I’ll always remember just being in Atlanta with all of them and making our bonkers show. Yeah.

DEADLINE: Really?

HIDDLESTON: Yes, and it remains extremely special for me, this project, for that reason.

For me, it just demonstrated the character of these amazing people. It took a huge amount of planning and care and looking after each other. By that, I mean, being in the bubble. So, for many of us, the only other human beings we saw, really, were each other. So, we came to work, and we became a team, and the circumstances fostered this extraordinary team spirit, and so the memory of making it is really my incredible and deep respect and affection for my fellow filmmakers. People like Trish Stanard, our line producer. Richard Graves, our first AD. Kristina Peterson, our second AD. Autumn Durald, DP. Kevin Wright, our supervising producer, and so many others making sure everyone could stay safe and look after each other.

It’s really…I find it…it’s very moving, and it’s remarkable, and I just want to salute them all because I couldn’t have done any of it without them.

DEADLINE: When you describe it like that it sounds very Loki indeed.

DEADLINE: Literally and figuratively?

I thought it’s over, and I was really proud to have been part of it. I was grateful for my time, but I thought that, my work would go off in a different direction. So, the idea that I got to come back and have another go was a complete delight, it truly was.

#loki #loki series #tom hiddleston #interview #article #deadline #loki spoilers #spoilers #loki series spoilers

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flowercrown-bard · 4 years ago

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A new us will begin (6/ 11)

word count: 7777

AO3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 7

Tw: assault (mugging) assault (taking away someone’s mobility/orientation aid), injuries

It was strange making it up the mountain to Kaer Morhen. Too long had Geralt not found it in him to go to the only place he had left to call home. Even stranger was taking the track before the first leaves of autumn began to fall. Never before had Geralt been this early and it filled him both with a sense of unease and excitement.

The year on the Path had been rough, harder than usual and he was aching to go back home and see familiar faces. Unlike before, it hadn’t been rough because of how many injuries Geralt got and how often he knocked on death’s door, oh no. This year – for the first time in a long, long time – Geralt needed to make sure he didn’t throw himself into danger as he had done the decades prior. If he did, and if he died because of his recklessness, he would never get to see if he had been right, if through some miracle, there would be another Jaskier out there, waiting for him.

It was a small hope, but it was hope nonetheless and that was more than he had had ever since Jaskier’s death.

Now, that hope was eating at him, gnawing at his heart like a bloodhound gnawed at its prey. He needed to survive if he wanted to see Jaskier again, however slim the chance. But there was a chance, wasn’t there? All those things connecting Yarrow to Jaskier, they couldn’t have been coincidences. There had to be an explanation and Geralt’s foolish, battered heart refused to accept any other explanation than the one he had found while standing over Jaskier’s grave.

But that wasn’t enough. Witchers learned early on not to rely on hope. All the boys hoped they would make it through the trials. Every full-grown witcher hoped he wouldn’t get killed by a monster, human or otherwise. Hope didn’t keep any of them alive.

Geralt needed more, needed to know more. He needed Vesemir’s help, his advice, his untainted view on what was happening. Which was why, when the towering walls of Kaer Morhen came into sight, Geralt’s throat restricted. Behind these walls lay either hope or damnation.

When Vesemir saw him enter the halls, he stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment, assessing him and scanning him over for injuries or any other visible reason that could have brought him back home, and so early too. After how seldom he came back anymore, Geralt couldn’t fault him for being reserved. With every year that Geralt had stayed away, the guilt that pressed on his chest became heavier until it had turned into shame.

The apology at making his family believe that he might have died was already on his tongue, when Vesemir crossed the hall in long strides and crushed Geralt against his chest.

Geralt trembled as he pressed his face into the crock of Vesemir’s neck. His mentor had never been allowed to be the kindest man, but he would do everything in his power to help and comfort his family. And gods, Geralt needed comfort. It had been so long since he had someone just hold him; not promising that nothing bad would happen, but promising that Geralt would get through it and that they would be there for him.

Geralt didn’t cry. Not when Vesemir’s embrace tightened briefly and not when Vesemir pulled back again to look him over for injuries. As far as Geralt knew, he showed no more signs of his distress, but from the way Vesemir’s brows drew together, he could tell that something had happened.

Vesemir made no move to comfort him again, but his expression was focussed and determined when he asked Geralt what he needed.

It didn’t take long for Geralt to spill everything. It should have. Years and years of heartbreak and despair that culminated in that one impossible, crushing hope, Yarrow had given him, shouldn’t be summarised in a handful of sentences. Jaskier would have rolled his eyes and complained about his lack of artistry if he’d been here to hear, but he would have also cupped Geralt’s face lovingly and shown him that he was here for him.

Vesemir did no such thing. Geralt didn’t expect him to. This wasn’t what he had come here for. He had come for advice, for the cutting rationality that he knew Vesemir would bring to this.

When Geralt asked him the impossible, if there was still a chance that Jaskier might be alive in some way, Vesemir became eerily still.

Geralt saw in his eyes what answer he was about to give him, and still his chest crumbled when Vesemir did. No one had ever come back from the dead.

It was a sobering answer. It was one that nearly shattered Geralt.

Vesemir had always been rational and to the point. If he said he knew of no one who had conquered death, then it wasn’t likely that Jaskier had been the first to do so. But Vesemir also loved his family with a fierce dedication. When Geralt clammed up, closed himself off, pulled his walls back up, Vesemir was the one who grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the library. He was the one who made sure that no book on the topic remained unread and that Geralt contacted every sorceress he knew.

Triss looked at him with pity and promised to do her best to help him. Keira said she’d keep her eyes open, but Geralt shouldn’t be surprised if she decided that she had better things to do than chase after Geralt’s daydream. Philippa’s expression turned into one of astonished surprise before she just left – she couldn’t have made it any clearer just how stupid she thought Geralt for clinging to this hope like a toddler to their mother’s skirts.

When he contacted Yennefer, the answer to his question now was no different than it had been when he had gone to her a month after Jaskier’s death: There was no way for a sorceress to bring him back to life.

But Geralt knew better. He had seen magic even more powerful than even Yennefer’s. He had seen what a Djinn could do, what Destiny could do, as much as the nation made him want to grind his teeth.

The library of Kaer Morhen brought no clear answers. Despite hours reading and desperately searching for anything substantial, all they found were theories and speculation.

The idea that Jaskier somehow had been reincarnated could be the hopeful wish of a fool just as well as the truth.

It wasn’t much and it wasn’t what Geralt had hoped for, but this slim chance that he had been right, was like a spark inside Geralt’s chest, growing stronger with each passing day until it turned into a fire.

This year, when Eskel and Lambert finally arrived, Geralt didn’t avoid them like he had before to wallow in his misery, lest enjoying himself would bring back painful memories of the times Jaskier had accompanied him to Kaer Morhen. For the first time in decades, he joined in when they asked him to spend time with them. It was obvious that they noticed the change in him, but even Lambert knew better than to ask what had brought it forth.

When Geralt finally told Eskel one drunken night, that maybe in a few years’ time, Jaskier would join them at the keep again, he ignored the look of pity Eskel gave him. Eskel didn’t know what Geralt knew. And Geralt’s certainty that he would get Jaskier back was unwavering.

Once the snow thawed, Geralt went back on the Path, almost brimming with energy. This year, it wouldn’t only be monsters he would track. Jaskier, wherever he was now, must still be a baby, no older than a toddler at the most, but Geralt could waste no time in his search for where he could be. He couldn’t put his trust and Jaskier’s life in the hands of Destiny to keep him safe or hope chance would bring him to him in time.

When the year turned round again and autumn once more painted the continent red, Geralt told himself that it wasn’t too bad that he had found no trail of Jaskier that first year of his search. He had time. Jaskier could be with a loving family right now, learning how to walk and talk. Geralt had time. He would find him again.

A decade of not finding so much as a hint of Jaskier in this world, made his faith waver. It could be coincidence that he hadn’t heard of Jaskier yet. This was just Destiny playing her cruel games. Geralt refused to believe that maybe he had been wrong and Jaskier wouldn’t come back to him.

And yet…

Geralt hated himself for it. Hated himself more, than when he had let that Viscount die or when he hadn’t been fast enough to save that child. He hated himself, because all it took was three more decades to crush his spirits and his hopes. He hated himself, because he gave up, because he had failed Jaskier again by accepting how hopeless this search had been. And he hated himself for having been fool enough to make himself believe that he still could get Jaskier back somehow.

When the air grew crisper and leaves turned brown, Geralt had already decided that he wouldn’t return to Kaer Morhen. Instead he went to Dol Blathanna and mourned Jaskier’s loss for a second time.

It was already late autumn, too late to change his mind about going to Kaer Morhen after all, when doubt crept up on Geralt.

The wind was colder this year and if it continued like this, Geralt would be forced to take more dangerous contracts, if he wanted to survive the winter.

Hell, even now he had to flee into a tavern from the cold, despite knowing that he it wouldn’t leave him with enough coin to make it another week without going on a hunt again. He had really wanted to buy a new cloak and gloves, but he supposed that was a luxury, he wouldn’t be able to afford this year. All he could do to keep warm right now, was buy the cheapest ale he could find, hoping that it would be enough to warm him a little from the inside and linger here for as long as he could, before he would inevitably get kicked out again.

It was miserable. It was exactly what he had coming for chasing after dreams. He had always known that dreams were nothing but pretend, hadn’t he? He couldn’t escape facing the nightmare that was reality any longer.

A harsh wind swept into the tavern when the door was thrust open with more force than normally. Instinctively, Geralt tensed and beneath the table, his hand went to the swords leaning against his. It was only the laughter that followed the bitter wind into the tavern, that made Geralt relax again. It wasn’t the cruel laughter of someone looking for trouble but the cheers of a group of friends that wanted nothing but to spend the night drinking.

Geralt settled back into his seat and averted his eyes, fighting down the bitterness that rose up in him. Still, he couldn’t help but see the group of people that came in out of the corner of his eyes. They were too loud, too big a presence to not notice them.

They walked through the tavern as if it belonged to them, as if they belonged here, but not in the arrogant way Geralt had seen soldiers or powerful criminals behave.

Geralt scowled and took a swig of his ale, more to block his view on the group than out of the need to drink. It was too close. Too much like how Jaskier had acted when he waltzed into a tavern, sure in the knowledge that he would get everyone in it to admire him.

He should stop thinking about Jaskier. That was the entire reason why he was here and not on his way to Kaer Morhen; so that he would be distracted and wouldn’t have to face the halls of his home that was now so empty and cold without Jaskier’s laugh filling them.

The very same laugh that now rang through the tavern, louder than any other, more joyful than befitted this moment.

Geralt flinched, spilling some of his ale over himself. His eyes raced through the room, wide and wild, while his heart refused to slow down. His whole body was tense as a bow string and he gripped the tankard tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t. Geralt had searched for years, decades, without so much as a rumour of anyone fitting Jaskier’s description. He wasn’t here, he wasn’t alive.

But there was no mistaking his laugh. Geralt would be able to recognise it in a crowd of hundreds. And this, this bright, boisterous laugh that came from the group of newcomers, was exactly like that laugh that Geralt had accepted he would never hear again.

Geralt’s eyes were trained on the group like a hawk fixating its prey. There were too many people. He couldn’t find Jaskier, he couldn’t –

One slightly older woman with red locks leaned forward, unblocking his view and Geralt’s heart jumped to his throat. There he was. Jaskier.

He looked older than Yarrow had been, but still far from wearing the wrinkles that had painted Jaskier’s skin for the last decades of his life. He must be in his forties, but it was hard to tell, with the ridiculous feathered hat that obscured part of his face and the beard that dusted his chin.

Geralt’s lips twitched and his heart fluttered in his chest. It looked almost like the one time Jaskier had lost a bet and let Geralt shave his beard in ridiculous ways. He had pretended to sulk after that, but the whole time there had been mirth twinkling in his eyes, especially when he had taken his revenge by shaving Geralt’s hair. The both of them had looked terrible after that, and Geralt wouldn’t have had it any other way. The chuckle that had bubbled up in Jaskier every time he had laid eyes on Geralt then, had been the most beautiful sound Geralt could imagine.

And now that laugh was back, fading with time, but not dying down fully.

The woman with the red hair flashed him a mock-glare that Jaskier didn’t seem to notice or was used to enough not to be intimidated, judging from his lack of reaction.

“You wouldn’t dare do that during an actual performance.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jaskier’s smile turned into a grin. “Because if it is, my dear Nadine, you know I will take it.”

“Sure, if you want to get shoved off the stage.” The red-head snorted. “I’m being serious. You know that I love you, but don’t make me break character again or I will take my revenge on you, Dandy.”

Dandy. It was a strange name, but Geralt couldn’t help but smile at it. As ridiculous as it was, there was no denying it fit. Jaskier – Dandy – was twirling a cane at his side that was weirdly long but decorated with bright colours and a ball that almost looked like a gem at the end. It looked utterly impractical, but since when had Jaskier ever cared about practicality when it came to his accessoires. Geralt’s eyes drifted back up to the long hair was curled in a way that made it very clear that Dandy put a lot of effort into his appearance.

Geralt was so distracted by the sight of him, that it took a moment for the girl’s other words to catch up to Geralt. Performance.

So this Dandy was a musician again. Something warmed in Geralt’s chest and his fingers twitched against his tankard. He would get to hear Jaskier sing again, would see him stand on a stage and bask in applause again!

The need to see him like that overflowed and made it impossible to think. The reality of all this hit him with unhindered force. For all of Geralt’s hope, of all the time he had spent convincing himself that he would find Jaskier again, he hadn’t once thought about what he would actually do once he found him. Now, that he was so close, sitting so damn near that all Geralt had to do was walk over there to touch him, he didn’t know what to do but helplessly watch Dandy joke with his friends. Geralt wanted to be one of them. He needed to feel Jaskier’s eyes on him, his hands, anything he was willing to give.

But this wasn’t Jaskier. It was Dandy. And Dandy didn’t know Geralt, has never met him before. If Geralt just came up to his table and told him – told him what exactly? That they had been lovers before? That Dandy had lived different lives and that he had died because Geralt had failed him?

There was nothing Geralt could say or do that wouldn’t make Dandy draw back, thinking him a disoriented drunk at best and a dangerous threat at worst. Now that Geralt was finally so close to the dream that had consumed every waking moment of his life, he didn’t know what to do to not ruin it.

Every fibre of his being screamed at Geralt to just do something, no matter the consequences. But Geralt had spent lifetimes without Jaskier and he would be damned if he did anything that would push Dandy away and leave him a lonely mess once more. As much as it hurt him to sit by idly, Geralt gathered all his strength to not go to Dandy right then and there and pull him close, burry his face into his neck and never let him go again.

He forced himself to sit back and just watch him, got drunk on the sight of him. Geralt’s chest tightened as if an iron fist was clenching around it, when one of Dandy’s friends began to sing and the rest joined in. For years, Geralt had fallen asleep with the memory of Jaskier’s voice in his ear, but hearing Dandy sing now, clear and full of unbridled happiness was something entirely different. His voice soared up and fell to an almost-whisper. Geralt’s eyes stung and he had to fight against blinking the burning away, unwilling to close his eyes for even a second and lose sight of Dandy. And oh, he was beautiful like this, swaying with the rhythm and smiling around the melody as if this was what he’d been born for.

When the song roared higher and higher, Dandy threw his head back and Geralt’s watched with bated breath as the hat fell to the ground, revealing the rest of Dandy’s face that had been hidden before.

He was beautiful. He was so painfully beautiful and he was alive and he was right there!

In that moment, Geralt wanted nothing more than to see his eyes. So often had Jaskier looked at him softly while he sang, a storm of emotion dancing in his eyes that was only meant for Geralt to see. He needed to see those eyes again, even if they wouldn’t hold any of those feelings for Geralt now.

Yet, the blue he hadn’t seen in so long remained hidden from him even now. Dandy’s eyes were closed, as he sang with passion, the same way Jaskier had sometimes closed his eyes, so he would feel nothing but the moment and the song.

Geralt’s chest threatened to burst at the sudden realisation that hadn’t reached him until now: Dandy was happy. Really, truly happy. He was surrounded by friends, he had money enough to drink carelessly, he had the confidence to sing in a room filled with strangers, even if he wasn’t singing for them. Dandy had everything Yarrow had lacked. He had everything Geralt could ever want for him.

Maybe…no. Geralt forced himself to look away, no matter how much everything in him yelled at him for doing so. His hand trembled, as he lifted the tankard to his lips once more.

Dandy was happy. He had everything he could need. Who was Geralt to think he had any right to insert himself into that life Dandy had built for himself?

Because there were only two ways this could go, if Geralt approached him. Either Dandy wouldn’t be interested in having Geralt in his life and Geralt would be forced to life with the rejection of the man whom he used to mean everything to. Or Dandy would be the same as Jaskier and Yarrow had been. He would give up this life, throw it away for a chance to be with Geralt. Try as he might to do right by him, Geralt wouldn’t be able to replace what Dandy already had.

It was selfish and cruel to even think about taking him away from this life he evidently loved.

Geralt should leave. He now knew for sure that Dandy was alive, that he was happy. That should be enough to satisfy him. There was no need to stay and risk tearing down Dandy’s life.

There was no doubt, that leaving would be the right thing to do, and yet Geralt’s body didn’t obey him. The urge to stay, if only just a little while longer and bask in Dandy’s presence, was bigger than any rational thought telling him it was madness.

He stayed and watched as Dandy blindly reached down and searched for his hat, before putting it on again and obscuring Geralt’s sight once more without having granted him as much as a glance at his eyes.

Geralt stayed even as his own ale was long gone and the barkeep kept shooting him dirty looks for taking up space without at least nursing another ale. Geralt couldn’t afford another drink, not if he wanted to sleep in an actual bed, sheltered from the cold winds, this night, but the dread of freezing in the night was nothing against the fear of losing Dandy so quickly again.

So he bought another ale and watched as Dandy’s friends started playing a card game that Dandy didn’t join in. Which didn’t stop him from giving the players tips seemingly at random and utterly unhelpful ones, judging by the player’s eyerolls and Dandy’s gleeful cackling.

All too soon, Dandy’s little game of distracting his friends got interrupted, when another man approached him from behind, tapping him on the shoulder. Geralt’s brows drew into a frown when Dandy flinched at the touch and before he knew it, Geralt’s hand had closed around the handle of his sword, ready to put himself between Dandy and that other man should the need arise.

But then the man whispered something in Dandy’s ear. The sudden shout of outrage and cheer coming from Dandy’s friends as they finished their game, was loud enough that Geralt couldn’t hear Dandy’s reply, but seconds later, the man, who had approached him, sat down next to Dandy, far too close for Geralt’s liking, but Dandy leaned into his touch, running his own hands up and down the man’s arms.

The sight sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Geralt’s chest. His jaw worked, but he couldn’t get himself to look away. Of course Dandy would flirt with other people. He had every right to have his fun and Geralt was a stranger to him. It was none of his business whom Dandy cosied up with.

It was just…he had spent so long being the only one Jaskier had turned his attentions to, with the bard reassuring him time and time again that he didn’t want anyone else, even when Geralt told him that he would understand if Jaskier chose to take other people to his bed. He had almost forgotten what it was like watching Jaskier touch strangers with obvious intent and lean into them to whisper sweet nothings into their ears. It was no easier watching Dandy do the same now.

Geralt might not be able to understand his whispers, but he had spent enough time with Jaskier to recognise the way Dandy’s posture changed, how he tipped his head to the side to reveal his neck to the other man, inviting him to press a kiss against the tender flesh.

An invitation that the stranger accepted with pleasure.

Geralt’s hands clenched and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from doing something rash. He had no right to interfere. Not when Dandy was so clearly enjoying himself. Not when Geralt was nothing to him.

Still, his insides twisted painfully with something ugly and cruel, while every fibre of his being wished that he could be in that stranger’s stead; that he would get to feel what Dandy’s fingers felt like dancing across his skin, and learn how he tasted beneath his lips.

He knew it was unfair to Dandy. Geralt didn’t even know the man. All he knew was that he looked and moved and laughed like Jaskier had and that in some way he was Jaskier. But he must also be someone else. Yarrow had been his own person. That viscount that Geralt suspected had been Jaskier before him, had certainly been his own person, going his entire life without ever knowing Geralt.

He had no way of knowing who Dandy really was, no right to want of him what he had had with Jaskier.

Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to watch the stranger kiss his way up Dandy’s neck, brushing his hair to the side and whispering something into his ear that Dandy responded to with a shuddering intake of breath and an enthusiastic nod.

He quickly told his friends where he was going with his new and oh so charming acquaintance Fillip and that one of them should come get him in the morning. Geralt winced when Dandy’s friends hollered as Dandy grabbed his cane and stood up. The Fillip gently took Dandy’s free arm, which earned him a radiant smile from Dandy. A bitter taste filled Geralt’s mouth, as he watched them go. Jaskier had always been touchy and he had loved leaning onto Geralt as they had walked side by side.

Seeing Dandy lean onto someone else – a blonde stranger with a dazzling smile and who was so much more handsome than Geralt could ever be – made Geralt’s arms feel empty and cold.

Without Dandy, the tavern felt too small, too lifeless, too lonely. Geralt downed the rest of his drink to get rid of the bitter taste Dandy’s departure had left him with. It didn’t work. Not even Lambert’s moonshine would have been able to get the images of Dandy leaning into that other man out of Geralt’s head.

Geralt glowered at the empty tankard, as if it was to blame for Geralt’s cowardice and inner turmoil. Abruptly, he stood up. With Dandy gone, there was no reason for him to stay here any longer. He shouldn’t have stayed here that long anyway. It would have been for the best if he had just left once he knew that Dandy was safe.

Once outside of the tavern, he hesitated. The strange tug in his chest that had lead him to Yarrow’s grave all those years ago, told him to follow Dandy. But what good would that do? Everything about the idea of following him and the man he had chosen to spend his night with was wrong.

No, Geralt should just go and find a place where he’d be able to sleep, now that he had spent too much coin to be able to afford an inn anymore.

So he ignored the tug in his chest and the way all of his muscles tensed at the thought of not going after Dandy, and turned into a different street, one that would lead him out of the city to where he had left Roach.

Regret and that piercing longing for an embrace he wouldn’t get, were his only company as he walked through the city. After a while, he left the streets that were illuminated by lanterns and found himself in darker alleyways. No thug of petty thief would be able to get the jump on a witcher, but still, Geralt strained his ears and tensed his muscles as he passed through this part of the city. If not for his sake, then he at least wanted to make sure no muggers would be walking the streets this night and stumble across Dandy.

Sure enough, voices reached Geralt, distant at first, but then getting louder.

“Really, I could have sworn that we were supposed to take that turn to the right.” Laughter that couldn’t quite hide how strained it was. “I don’t think we’re going in the right direction.”

Geralt froze. It was Dandy’s voice. What was he doing here? Geralt had made sure he wouldn’t cross paths with him. To get here, Dandy and his companion must have taken a truly inconvenient and winding route.

“No, trust me,” another voice – Fillip’s? – replied. “I know where we’re going. You don’t need to worry.”

Geralt’s hackles rose. Part of him told him that he was overreacting, but another, stronger part felt that same dread creep up on him that he had always felt when he had realised that Jaskier hadn’t heeded his warnings and come along to see a monster for himself.

“Oh. Alright then. Of course I trust you.”

He shouldn’t. Dandy really, truly shouldn’t trust this man. But if he was still the same in a way as the bard who had approached a witcher without fear and had followed him into any danger, then there was little chance that Dandy didn’t mean those words.

As silent as a shadow, Geralt followed the sound of their voices, until he could see them at the far end of the seemingly endlessly long alley, Dandy still leaning against the blonde and holding his cane out in front of him as he walked.

But it wasn’t Dandy that Geralt’s narrowed eyes were fixated on. It was the other man, whose smile was no longer charming and warm. It was cold like a snake’s.

Was Dandy really that smitten that he didn’t see the way that expression screamed danger? He must be, for he didn’t show a single sign of wanting to pull away. Gullible, naïve, trusting Jaskier! Of all the traits that must carry over into another life, it had to be the one that would inevitably put him in danger.

Suddenly, Fillip stopped. Geralt couldn’t see Dandy’s expression beneath the shadow his hat threw onto his face, but his shoulders tensed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a hint of that trust still persistent in his tone, but now it was laden with unease. “You didn’t get lost, did you?”

“No. I’m exactly where I wanted to go.”

The discomfort in Dandy’s posture became even more apparent. “I think we should maybe go back. If you would be so kind as to show me the way back to my friends – “

“I don’t think so.”

Geralt quickened his silent steps, almost breaking into a run. Panic raced through his blood. He was still too far away to help, should the man decide to attack Dandy. Yet, he was close enough to be able to see how now Dandy, too, caught on to just how bad this situation was.

Dandy stiffened, when Fillip tightened his hold on his arm, before Dandy could even attempt to pull away.

Anger flared up in Geralt, that turned into ice-cold fear, when two more figured appeared from the shadows, the moonlight reflecting on the blade of a knife in one of the man’s hands.

“Easy there,” the armed newcomer sneered and let out a dirty laugh when Dandy flinched. “This doesn’t need to get ugly. Just give us your coin and we’ll be on our way.”

The men weren’t too big. The only reason they probably felt secure enough to attack Dandy was because they outnumbered him. Still, Dandy had his cane. He could at least try to fend them off and keep them at a distance, if only to buy himself enough time to run away. But Geralt’s silent pleas for Dandy to defend himself changed nothing. Dandy stood still and helpless as the men drew nearer.

“You really think I have coin with me?”

Geralt let out a silent curse when Dandy was stupid enough to laugh. The sound ended in a shocked gasp, when the man holding him yanked him around without warning. Dandy’s head flew to the side when the back of Fillip’s hand hit his face.

His hat fell off, landing in front of the feet of the bald man who hadn’t spoken until now. He deliberately stepped onto the hat, grinding his heel into it.

“You’re really telling us that someone with such fancy clothes doesn’t have coin?”

Silently, Geralt begged Dandy to not say anything that would get him into any more trouble. At least until Geralt got close enough to actually defend him.

If he provoked the men enough to use their knives – Geralt’s stomach churned at the thought. He couldn’t watch him die again. He couldn’t!

He was so close! Just a little more time and he’d be able to save him!

Dandy snorted, his shoulders already drawn up in a useless attempt to protect his head. “Those clothes are a costume. I am an actor. All the coin I had, I spent on my drink.” He flashed a grin, that looked a little off, not really directing it at either of the men. “But if you want to try your luck mugging me again, I advise you to do it after our premiere tomorr-“

A punch in the gut made Dandy cry out, the sound piercing Geralt’s ears. He doubled over.

The bald man who had punched him, grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back up, spitting in his face.

“I’d ask you if you think we look stupid, but you wouldn’t know, would you?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I am sure you look stupi- hey, what are you doing?”

The sound of Dandy’s pain was nothing compared to the cry that tore out of his throat now, when the bald thug grabbed his cane and ripped it away from him.

“Give that back!” Dandy thrashed in his assailant’s grip. “You can’t take that from me! I need it!” He staggered when Fillip let go of him without warning and pushed him to the side. “Give it back, please!”

Dandy’s pleas cut into Geralt like a knife. He was close. He was so close, just a few more steps and he would be with him –

The cane came crashing down on Dandy’s back. With a pained cry that tore Geralt’s chest open, Dandy went to his knees. The laughter of the men burned like acid in Geralt’s ears.

The man lunged out to take another swing with the cane. He never got the chance.

With a jump, Geralt threw himself between Dandy and the attacker. The cane hit him across the chest at the same time that his sword plunged into the attacker’s shoulder.

Geralt couldn’t hear his cry of pain, the sound of his blade tearing through his flesh or the noise the cane made when it fell to the ground, over the sound of Dandy’s whimpers. It enflamed something raging hot in his chest.

Geralt whirled around with a snarl that would send hardened soldiers running.

The man that had lured Dandy here blanched and reeled back, but not fast enough to escape Geralt’s sword. It painted a thin red stripe across his face.

The third attacker was the only one stupid enough to try and attack Geralt, slashing at him with his knife. One swing of Geralt’s sword and the smaller weapon clattered to the ground, the sound accompanied by an agonised scream when Geralt’s sword cut through the hand that had just held the weapon.

A growl rose in Geralt’s chest, animalistic and promising death to anyone who dared to lay another hand on Dandy.

The attackers tensed up, holding their bleeding wounds and staring at Geralt with wide, terrified eyes.

“Stay away from us, monster!” What should have been a shout came out as a terrified whisper. “Stay away or –“ Fillip’s eyes darted behind Geralt, where Dandy must still lie.

Geralt lifted his sword higher and took another menacing step towards the attackers. The simple gesture was threat enough. If any of them dared touch Dandy, he would cut them down.

He didn’t need to use his words to get that message across. For a tense second, the three men stood frozen in place, then they staggered back, running as fast as they could away from Geralt and the man he would protect with his life.

Geralt followed the men with his eyes until he was sure they wouldn’t come back, then slowly, he sheathed his sword and turned around with his hands held in front of him, praying it was enough to show Dandy that he didn’t mean him any harm.

But Dandy didn’t even look up at him. He still cowered on the ground, making himself as small as possible and shielding his head with his arms, as if he expected another attack.

Seeing him like this, so small, so afraid split Geralt’s heart in two. Never, in any lifetime that Geralt knew of, had Jaskier been afraid of him. And now here Dandy was, curling in on himself, his broken breathing mixing in with sobs.

Geralt swallowed thickly and crouched down as slowly as he could. Still, there was no reaction. His blood ran cold. Had he been too late? Maybe one of the attackers had landed a hit on Dandy’s head that Geralt hadn’t noticed.

His heart sank like a stone. No. No! He couldn’t have been too late. Not again, not when he had just found him again!

With a trembling hand, Geralt reached out and gently touched Dandy’s shoulder to turn him and see if there were any injuries Geralt could help with.

As soon as his hand touched him, Dandy shrank even further into himself and he let out a whimper. His whole body shook from his broken sobs.

“Please,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes close and burying his head even more in his arms, “Please don’t. Don’t hurt me, please!”

Geralt snatched his hand back as if burned. “I’m not going to hurt you. No one is. Those men are gone.”

Dandy’s trembling didn’t stop, but there was a miniscule shift in his body.

“Those men?” he asked tentatively, “You’re not one of them?”

Geralt’s brows drew together, before he schooled his face into a neutral expression. He couldn’t risk Dandy choosing this moment when Geralt scowled down at him, to open his eyes and see him for the first time, becoming even more terrified.

But Dandy kept his eyes firmly closed.

“No,” Geralt said as softly as he could. “I’m not. I made sure they won’t bother you again.”

For an endless-seeming moment, Dandy didn’t move, but he turned his head as if trying to hear if anyone else was around. Ever so slowly, Dandy relaxed, but not enough to let his guard down fully. Geralt couldn’t blame him. No one in their right mind would watch a witcher fight and not be terrified to be alone with him afterwards. If Geralt had ever thought differently, the first monster he had killed had taught him otherwise.

“Sorry.” Dandy rubbed a hand down his face, turning his face to the ground so that Geralt couldn’t see the tears, that he knew were there. The salt-scent was so strong that he could almost taste it. “I didn’t hear you coming. You were just suddenly there and then there were those sounds of a fight and I… I didn’t know what was going on.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt said, though the lie couldn’t have been more obvious. Nothing was alright. Geralt had terrified Dandy enough that he now wouldn’t even look at him, that he would rather cower at his feet than even raise his eyes to meet his. “I…” he swallowed, forcing the bitter words that tore his throat apart like swallowing glass, “I can leave if you want me to.”

Dandy remained quiet, the only indication that Geralt’s words had reached him was the hitch in his breath and the way he clenched his hands into fists.

Geralt wished he could help. He wished he hadn’t been such a damn coward and just approached Dandy in that tavern. If he had, none of this would have happened. Dandy would still be laughing instead of being blinded by tears. He would be sitting with his friends instead of lying broken in some alley. He might even have trusted Geralt enough to let him help. But as it was, Geralt had made sure that Dandy didn’t even dare accept his help for fear of what he might do to him.

With a sigh, Geralt stood up and took a couple of steps back. He couldn’t leave Dandy to fend for himself, but if he didn’t want Geralt anywhere near him, he would go away far enough that Dandy wouldn’t have to be afraid of Geralt attacking him. He could watch over him from the shadows.

Geralt had barely made it out of reach from Dandy, when Dandy moved, lifting his head and looking around, though not in the direction Geralt had gone.

“Are you still there?” The question came quietly, hesitantly. “Please stay.”

Geralt froze mid-movement. “I’m here.”

Dandy winced, but the movement was accompanied by a sigh. If Geralt hadn’t known any better, he would have said it sounded relieved.

Painfully slowly, Dandy pushed himself up onto all fours, then stopped. Geralt frowned.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help standing?”

“Ah, no. I…” Dandy reached out with his hand, letting it wander over the ground. “I just…I really need my cane back.”

Geralt blinked, taken aback. He must not have noticed it before, but apparently the cane wasn’t just an accessory but a walking aid. That must be why Dandy didn’t reach it, though all he had to do was stretch a little to get to it. He must have an old injury that would hurt from such a movement.

“Wait,” Geralt said, coming closer again. “I can get it for you, it’s just over –“

“No!” The tone of the shout was so final that Geralt stopped right where he was. “Don’t touch it. I got it.”

Geralt watched in confusion as Dandy groped more frantically for the cane, until his fingers finally closed around it. Geralt could practically see the tension fall off of him as he held the cane close like it was the most precious thing to him.

After a moment, Dandy took a deep breath and made to stand up. His face contorted into a grimace and he winced at the movement.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked without second thought. He grimaced at how stupid the question was.

Dandy hissed out a sharp breath through his teeth. “My back hurts. Really bad. Damn, that guy didn’t need to hit me that hard.”

He moved again, gasping in pain once more.

“Let me help.” Geralt was at his side in a flash, holding out his hand for Dandy to take. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to stand on your own.”

Dandy hesitated for a second, then he nodded. Still, he made no move to take Geralt’s hand. Unsure what to do, Geralt reached for Dandy’s arm.

“May I?” He asked in as soothing a voice as he could, his hand hovering right above Dandy.

“Yes.”

Carefully, Geralt closed his hand around Dandy’s elbow. His heart stuttered in his chest, his mind overtaken by the thought that they were touching. Jaskier was alive and Geralt could actually touch him! He didn’t disappear, he was really there!

Geralt clenched his jaw and beat back those thoughts. There would be time for that later. Right now, the only important thing was that Dandy would be alright.

With the same gentleness with which Geralt had helped up Jaskier when he had gotten too old to stand on his own, he guided Dandy until he stood, while Dandy kept his head low and his cane clutched to his chest tightly.

Geralt’s hands lingered on Dandy’s arm, while his eyes darted over his body, making sure he wasn’t hurt. Apart from a couple of scratches and his back pain, he seemed to be fine.

Although it took inhuman strength to break the contact between them, Geralt let go of Dandy again.

Dandy let out a shuddering breath when Geralt drew back and ever so slowly, he lifted his head.

Geralt’s heart was pounding painfully against his ribs. Without meaning to, he leaned closer, urged on by a sudden desperation to see Dandy’s– Jaskier’s! – eyes again.

He couldn’t think straight. His thoughts were a swirling storm, all centred around that endless blue. Why was Dandy moving with such agonizing slowness? Why –

Their eyes met.

Geralt let out an involuntary gasp that could have been a sob or a whispered name. Dandy’s eyes were beautiful. Deep and blue and… and wrong.

Geralt’s heart dropped. Something was off about his eyes. They were the same blue he remembered, but the way Dandy was looking at Geralt…it felt as if Dandy was looking right through him. The moment they held each other’s gazes was no longer than a heartbeat, then Dandy’s eyes wandered higher, facing somewhere slightly to Geralt’s left.

“Thank you,” Dandy said quietly and gave him a hint of a smile. If felt wrong too. Beautiful, because it was Dandy smiling, but slightly off, as if he only knew how an expression of gratefulness should look from a description in a book.

Geralt couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

The rounded end of the cane hit the ground with a soft thunk that rang in Geralt’s ears like thunder.

All this time. All these years Geralt had spent searching the continent for Jaskier, burning with the need to see him again, not once had he thought about the possibility that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see him when the time came. But there was no mistaking it.

Dandy was blind.

#reincarnation au #geraskier #my writing #geralt #jaskier #fic #witcher fic #fanfic #angst #assault #geraltxjaskier

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aizawaskittenwhore · 5 years ago

Text

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought.

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising.

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke. “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours.

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits.

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit.

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his.

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids.

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout.

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line.

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass.

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body.

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand.

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them.

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.”

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body.

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead.

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister.

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

#aizawa x female reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha #bnha x reader #hawks #nyafterhours

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toothedsmile · 5 years ago

Text

The new demon: Chapter six

Chapter six: Eyes that hide

You opened your mouth to speak but Angel Dust was faster.

“Ah. So uh, what’s the deal with Smiles over there?”

You pursed your lips at being interrupted even though you weren’t speaking yet, while it was the same question you wanted to ask (though worded differently) you still would have liked to contribute to the conversation.

You knew you didn’t speak much to people you saw as just strangers, only with your tiny bits of somehow existing confidence and will to speak. And just as you actually wanted to speak someone else did before you!

With a small and unnoticeable sigh you guided your thoughts back to what was happening right in front of your nose.

It seemed that Vaggie (after a bit of banter with Angel) finally decided to explain who the so called ‘Radio Demon’ or as you better know him as, Alastor, actually was.

“Ugh. Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. He began to topple overlords who had been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before, then he broadcast his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness his ability. Sinners started calling him, ‘The Radio Demon’, As lazy as that is. Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one things for sure, he’s an unpredictable source of evil, a wicked spirit of mystery and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we can’t risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased!”

Vaggies small speech was indeed quite a bit to take in, it seemed as if she had rehearsed the whole thing just to tell it to someone when the right moment arrived. Though her story didn’t surprise you much as you already had a few speculations about the Radio Demon, it wasn’t that hard to see when you just looked hard enough at the bunch of people who avoided him when he was walking on the street. And that smile, you knew something wasn’t right about him almost the moment you saw him.

And yet, after such an intense speech, filled with hateful passion! Angel Dust interrupted. (he seems to like doing that, maybe it was the attention? You really didn’t get it…)

“Ya done? He looks like a strawberry pimp!”

Perhaps he had some use after all, you thought as you snorted at the comparison. And as if on cue, Alastor somehow, in a twirl of something black (like the shadow you had seen him use when he appeared and disappeared) made his microphone appear. You could see that the eye was open, as you squinted your eyes at it, it moved to make direct eye contact with you, it’s slit pupil digging into your own. Out of surprise you jolted up a bit, slightly catching the attention of the two others sitting next to you before they once again started to banter with each other.

“Well I don’t trust him!” You hummed in agreement with Vaggie. “I have to say that I as well don’t really trust him much. He seems to be hiding something…”

Vaggie looked at you with a slightly grateful look in her eyes. Angel Dust merely rolled his eyes as he looked at his nails with complete disinterest about the possible danger the Radio Demon could possibly become.

“To be fair, do you trust any man? Any men? Men?” He joked dryly while Vaggie seemed just about as done as anyone could possibly be. His eyes glanced at you from the side, urging you to at least show some sort of reaction but you just remained there, sitting quietly as you knew you didn’t really have anything to say here. (That and you didn’t want Vaggie to get angry at you, she seemed pretty trustworthy and useful)

Vaggie slinked away from the horrible attempt of a joke, slightly patting you on your shoulder as if saying ‘don’t die again’ and went to Charlie.

“That was a horrible joke Angel. 2/10 for the attempt at the very least.”

Angels head turned directly to you, his eyes were narrowed into slits and trying to burn through your very being. It did not work as you just kept a neutral expression, only your eyes were the only indicator of mischief.

“You can’t say much, you haven’t spoken a word since ya sat your ass down.”

Deciding to ignore the very existence of Angel your eyes went to Charlie and Vaggie the latter seemingly pleading something at Charlie as she held her arms. As you looked at them you noticed that there was someone else that wasn’t with them, Alastor.

After looking side to side you saw that he was looking at a painting which had Charlie and two other people on it that seemed very similar to her, you assumed that they were more than likely her parents.

It seemed that Alastor had sensed your distrusting stare as he turned around not even seconds after to look you right in the eyes, his smile and as well as his horns grew but when you narrowed your eyes at him he backed down with a teasing glint in his eyes, as if he was testing to see what your reaction would be to him when he did something that you would more than likely deem as out of line.

Suddenly Charlie walked confidently up to him, or at least until she actually got close to him.

“Okay so, you’re sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here as a joke.”

As Charlie turned her back on Alastor you could see that he had once again a bunch of symbols floating around him as he menacingly smiled at her, right on the moment that she turned around he went back to smiling politely, as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Charlie clearly noticed that he had done something and narrowed her eyes at him with a slightly funny expression.

With a soft smile she continued her explanation and slightly small speech to Alastor, it was more than obvious to you that she was very invested in the lives of her (more than likely) future subjects and was hoping to help them improve themselves.

“But I don’t, I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So I’m taking your offer to help! On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

As if she were a puppeteer she moved her fingers when she talked about the strings, with an eyeroll from Alastor in return of course.

Out of nowhere his microphone returned, you hadn’t even noticed that it was gone, he spun it around in the air only to hold it in his other hand to make sure that the previous one was free to open and hold out for a handshake with Charlie.

A green light appeared and wind wove around, slightly pushing everyone back. Angel, Vaggie and you held your arms up to avoid any sort of dust to come into your eyes. There was also an earie sound that pierced your ears, getting higher as the intensity of the light increased.

As you peaked through your fingers you saw that Charlie almost took hold of his hand to seal the deal, you tried to take a step forward to stop her but luckily enough Charlie eventually slapped his hand away and crossed her arms in front of herself. Alastor’s previously closed eyes opened up wide in surprise before he shut them and smiled.

“Nope! No shaking! No deal!”

She stepped away and held her elbow in comfort while Alastor once again went back to his wide smile with sharp teeth whilst holding his microphone.

“I-hm. As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I uh hereby order that you help with this hotel, for as long as you desire.”

She smiled sheepishly up at Alastor before looking away and dropping her smile, Vaggie looked away too as her shoulders slightly drooped down.

With your eyes closed your head slowly and subtly shook side to side with some form of compassion for the decision Charlie had made at the moment.

‘She should have just made him go away, his presence will not bring any good to this hotel nor anyone involved.’ You decided to sit back down on the couch with Vaggie while Angel sat himself on the armrest, leaning on the backrest in a weird way.

When Alastor didn’t immediately reply to her question/demand she looked back and asked for verbal confirmation.

“Uh, sound fair?”

Alastor hummed and stroked his chin before shrugging. “Fair enough!”

With a relieved sigh Charlie leaned forward as Alastor walked away, she stuck up her two thumbs with a very small smile.

“Cool beans.”

Suddenly Alastor walked by the three of you humming some sort of song, hurriedly all of you went off the couch to avoid Alastor. Angel walked away to the chair that was in front of the Welcome banner while Vaggie looked at Alastor’s back with distrust before averting her eyes only to look back when he stopped with walking and humming, she quickly looked back down to avoid his eyes and took a step closer to you.

Yet it seemed that her attempt at avoiding any confrontation with Alastor was in vain as he quickly turned around and curled a finger under her chin.

“Smile my dear!” With absolute disgust she looked down at the offending finger while you tried to keep your smile back at the admittedly funny scene. Alastor stepped back and continued his sentence.

“You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

Vaggie and Alastor looked into each other’s eyes, one with pure hatred and the other filled to the brim with mischief and bad intentions.

You thought that he would be done and focus his attention to some one else but it seemed that he still had something to say to you.

“And you as well darling! Try not to be so sour and smile a bit wouldn’t you dear?”

There he stood in all his smug glory, towering slightly over you and looking at you with a smile. He put a finger on each side of your mouth and dragged the flat line into a smile.

“There we go! Do keep it that way please.”

And as soon as he turned his back to you and walked away while humming, you let the fake smile fall and looked at him with a glare. You rubbed your hands over where he touched you, not wanting to have even the smallest trace of him on your face. Looking around you tried to search for another place to sit down.

Alastor had gone back to Charlie, probably looking for some more things to mess with. He leaned slightly over and put his hands behind his back.

“So, where is your hotel staff?”

Charlie rubbed her neck embarrassedly before folding her hands together in front of her and looked in the direction of Vaggie.

“Well..”

Alastor followed her line of sight and saw Vaggie standing there with her hands on her hips and looking straight at him with a frown and furrowed brows. He adjusted his monocle and laughed a mocking recreation of Santa’s laugh.

“You’re going to need more than that.”

He hadn’t even completely finished his sentence before he already walked away to where Angel was seated.

“And what can you do my effeminate fellow?”

With a smirk filled with nasty intentions Angel answered the question.

“I can suck yer dick.”

Alastor smiled into nothingness with a big smile before leaning back down to Angel and replying with a big “HA! No.”

Angel shrugged and leaned onto his elbow, holding his face in his hand. “Your loss.” The more than likely disgusted radio demon walked away from Angel at a bit faster pace than he normally walked and went to you.

“So, what is it that you excel in Darling?”

Leaning on the wall you looked at him with a neutral face and shrugged.

“Nothing much that would be of interest nor of use for the hotel. Besides, I’d rather speak to Charlie about these things.” You mockingly smiled up at him, knowing that that was not the answer that he wanted to hear.

“You might say that now darling but I can see that those blinkers are hiding something.”

He leaned in closer as he held you in place by putting his hands on your shoulders and looked you right in the eyes as he continued speaking, he spoke lower and softer so that the others couldn’t hear what he was saying to you.

“And I’ll make you show me what it is kitten.”

A/N: sorry about the long leave Angels! Some things happened and I’m pretty sure that you all know about the covid-19 thing. As I live in Europe, I had to deal with the quarantine around begin to middle February so I had to work for school. But as it is vacation at the moment I’ve got more time to write! I hope you guys at least enjoyed this little chapter as it is a hundred words (and 600 less than chapter 4) less than the previous chapter.

This chapter hasn’t been edited yet!

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Note

Hi Steph, I hope you have a lovely day :) did you see the news that apparently S5 has been announced?? do you know if it's true?? should I freak out? :D

Hi Nonny!

Okay so this is going to give me an opportunity to finally get this off my chest, just know that I am NOT upset or angry at you, I’m upset and angry at the “journalists” who keep doing this shit every few months. So, as I keep saying and will always say:

It’s all clickbait. All of it.

I checked to make sure, and this was my first result. Look at the headline:

Notice the wording in this one… None of it is “BBC Confirmed” or “Moffat confirmed”. They’re using speculative words like “teasing”.

Scroll down the article:

There is no official release date for a new series of Sherlock but we can expect the show to arrive in either 2022 or 2023.

This “journalist”, among many others, is literally just fucking trawling tumblr blogs and pulling information from people like our little corner here who have already done all the fucking work for them.

The second link I got brought me here, posted just before Dracula, and is LITERALLY just rehashing the shit they recycle every 6 months. Summary is: We don’t know, but please click and subscribe to our website for updates.

I’ve worked in the media, at 4 newspapers, for almost a decade. This shit is normal when it’s a slow news month and they need fluff pieces (which Jan and Feb usually are dead news wise when you want to ignore what’s going on in the world), they go through what gave them clicks this time last year, and assign some intern to just drudge up some “news” clickbait article that they can get some advertising dollars on. Sherlock still gets clicks, ergo, let’s BS an article.

And because they’re using words in the article that doesn’t confirm nor deny anything, and use words that are synonyms with “allegedly”, it’s all completely legal and not fake news. It’s ALL in the language of the article. Carefully read any article about S5 and NONE of them use words that are synonyms with “confirm” other than “so and so confirmed they want to do an S5″ and that’s where the sneaky bit comes in… notice “WANT TO DO” not “ARE DOING”. It’s all about grammar.

Literally this and other articles are just clickbait garbage that is all speculations of stuff we as a fandom have all made on all of our recent S5 posts. It’s only coming up BECAUSE we have been talking about it here on Tumblr and then that brings up the topic in Google search algorithms.

I find it rather interesting that, since I’ve been answering asks recently on my blog about S5, and after I and others replying to my posts are doing all the bloody leg work, that all of a sudden these “writers” are SUDDENLY just talking about Sherlock again. Gee what a coincidence :| Do your own research, “writers”, stop beating a dead horse with this clickbait crap and stop taking all our work.

Don’t give them the clicks. I’ll save you the trouble; everything discussed in all the google results are everything already talked about in all my S5 posts since Dec. 31/19:

Do you think we’ll ever get an S5 (Dec. 31/19)

Additional Sources to Gattiss’ Homoerotic Quote

An Ask Linked to It

Do I Think S5 is still a possibility?

If S5 Continued in the same vein as S4, should TJLC shippers continue to support the show?

Why are S5 Sherlock BBC discussions popping up again right now?

What do you think of the theory about Ben’s Hair growing out? (with links to projects of the actors)

Here’s Why The Hair is Growing Out (not my post)

Do you think it’s time to totally give up on S5?

Any chance they did a super secret episode? … I just want their confirmation, whether S5 is coming or not

If we’re not going to get a fifth season, then why is the show not cancelled yet?

Isn’t It Rude of Mofftiss to just not confirm?

Since Gatiss said he made the show homoerotic just to attract people, I can’t see the characters as I saw them before… How do you cope with that?

Am I the only one who doesn’t want an S5?

What are the chances that they did film a super secret episode?

Do you believe that Mofftiss are purposely confusing us to surprise us later?

“S5 and Beyond” blog tag

“S5 Speculations” blog tag

“Secret Episode” blog tag

There ya go, saved you from giving them views, LOL. I suffer their stupidity so you don’t have to, LOL.

So the TL;DR answer to your question is: No. Don’t freak out. It’s not happening anytime soon.

They’re literally just taking advantage of Sherlock being still semi-relevant to make money in a slow news month. Until you hear it from Moffat, Gatiss, possibly BBC, Sue Vertue, Hartswood Studios, AND (not OR, AND) the actors themselves, don’t believe a damn thing. It’s not happening anytime soon, either, I feel. I’ve done a tonne of legwork already: Ben, Martin, Gatiss AND Moffat are ALL busy for the foreseeable future: Moffat and Gatiss are writing stage plays, and Ben and Martin both have busy IMDb schedules for the next 2 to 4 years. And they’re the only ones who matter (because let’s be real, without Ben, there’s no Sherlock), so… I’m sorry to be blunt and harsh, but sometimes we have to step back out of the bubble of Tumblr and look at reality for our own sanity.

*hugs* Sorry Nonny

#steph replies #s5 speculations #s5 shitposting #s5 and beyond #clickbaiting #sherlock s5 #my thoughts #Anonymous

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marshmallow-phd · 7 years ago

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Charming Instruction

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: You were just an average, everyday college student desperately trying to graduate. Only one more year stood between you and that celebratory walk. However, due to an oversight by your adviser, it seemed that the one class you never wanted to take was required to take that walk. It wasn’t the subject matter that made you uncomfortable. It was the teacher. Your heart sped up every time you saw him and you didn’t want that distraction in your life, attractive or not. With meeting him now an inevitability, you swore that you would keep your hormones in check. But after your first day of class, a series of hi jinks and weird situations lead you to discovering the secret of your professor and why he seemed to bombard your every thought.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

You tried to rationalize what you had heard away. Any logical person would just assume they were messing around, right? Everyone on campus knew that Professor Kim lived with a big group of his cousins while they all attended classes at the university. Where exactly they were all able to fit no one really knew, but each one of them would confirm that they all lived under the same roof.

But they couldn’t be werewolves. They just couldn’t. Wouldn’t have someone noticed something strange going on by now? Especially with that many of them?

Maybe they were just messing around. Yeah, that had to be it. They were just using the whole “wolf” thing as a metaphor for how close they all were. Giant group of rowdy boys? That could definitely fit the description of a pack of wolves. But you couldn’t shake the serious way that Professor Kim had called himself the leader. And all of them wouldn’t really go out on a run together. That didn’t make any sense. There were at least ten of them. Where would they go running besides the forest?

The rest of the day, you couldn’t concentrate on any of the lectures you attended and you were sure you failed the quiz in your Physical Anthropology class.

Part of you was tempted to approach Jiyoung who had been in a couple of your history and cultural studies classes. You’d been a little surprised when you noticed that she looked to be with Jongdae now, a particularly noisy and popular member of the group you’d seen around campus, considering she didn’t seem the type to like those sort of crowds. Granted, that was just all speculation from the few times you’d spoken with her.

No. You couldn’t go to Jiyoung. You didn’t even know how you would approach that suspect.

Hey, Jiyoung, have you ever noticed if your boyfriend occasionally grew ears and a tail? Maybe even growled or panted like a dog? Does he go on runs and howl at the moon?

Groaning, you let your head fall with a thump on your kitchen table. Thankfully neither Gemma nor Cam were home, keeping you safe from their curious questions and ridicule. To continue on that trend, you quickly finished your dinner and holed yourself up in your room, pretending to be asleep by the time your roommates came back from their evening classes.

The following day was no better. You’d hoped that maybe your brain would see reason after a good night’s rest and you’d be able to go on with your life.

Ha.

Your brain wasn’t that kind to you.

While your concentration was a little better during class, the time outside was a different story. In a secluded corner of the library where no one could sneak up on you, you had your laptop open and connected to the internet to do some non-school work related research.

Typing in the word “werewolf” to the search bar almost made you feel like a hacker about to break into your government’s confidential files. Why, you weren’t exactly sure. There were certainly a million worse things to look up on the internet. Still, the strange feeling of possibly getting caught by the wrong person just made your heart race with stress.

A majority of your search results just brought up teen fantasy novels and the different movies through the decades. The actual legends you encountered were all drastically different. The most common of the tales – the ones that nearly everyone knew – described the person (who was typically cursed with the ability, either threw a bite or scratch) as fully turning into a four-legged wolf. One interesting and different tale from Fennoscandia depicted a werewolf as an old lady with poison-coated claws. Nice.

It wasn’t until later centuries that the hybrid started to emerge. All of the stories seemed to agree that the werewolf typically traveled on his (or her) own. A pack mentality was apparently not so common. You nearly laughed at the strange notion from old Europe saying that the best way to find a werewolf was to cut the person’s skin as you would find fur underneath if they were one of the lycanthrope.

Nothing that you found online was able to assuage your mind. But nothing also pointed to Professor Kim actually possessing the ability to change into the ancestor of the modern domesticated dog. Cutting him open to try and find fure didn’t seem adequate enough of a solution.

You didn’t really sleep that night, mulling over and over in your head what you should do in class the next morning. Should you just pretend that you never heard anything? Should you confront him after class?

Whining, you kicked at the blankets that covered your legs as you lied in bed in the dark. Every once in a while, you checked your phone just to watch the hours tick by. You just wanted to sleep and shut your brain off for a bit.

Your wish was granted, if only for a little while. You couldn't remember falling asleep, but your eyes opened slowly when your alarm went off. Sitting up in bed, you yawned and stretched to help wake up. A few minutes later, you were able to crawl out of bed and get dressed for class.

After eating a filling breakfast, you took your time walking to the building, hoping a plan would miraculously form itself before you walked through the doors.

One never did, except for one little possible course of action. And you didn’t really like it.

You were early today, even with your slow pace, only a few other fellow students scattered around the hall. You bypassed the back rows, going down the steps reluctantly until your feet touched the very bottom, right before the open area where Professor Kim walked around during his lectures. A few seats in, you sat down in the front door and unpacked your things for class.

The hall filled up as the minutes clicked closer to the assigned hour. Professor Kim walked in from the back door like usual. He kept his eyes down, setting his bag on the desk in the middle and taking out his laptop to hook up to the project.

When he glanced up briefly to check the time on the digital clock hanging up on the back wall, he made eye contact with you. The cable he was holding slipped from his hand. It landed on the floor with a muffled clatter due to the thin carpet. He kept his shocked gaze on you, but you weren’t so steady, lowering your eyes as you felt your cheeks heating up.

Professor Kim collected himself quickly. He shook his head as he hooked up the laptop and started class with the newest power point.

All throughout the hour and a half, you kept your eye out for anything strange. Any bizarre quirk, any minuscule sign that what you overheard wasn’t a complete fabrication or figment of your imagination. But he gave nothing away.

The person in front of you who lectured on sirens and how they affected ancient, superstitious sailors way of life on the sea to avoid the possible killers seemed perfectly ordinary. Handsome, smart as hell, stunning smile with a dad-like sense of humor, but ordinary.

Maybe they really were just talking in metaphor.

Resigning to the fact that you might have just wasted two days of precious thinking time over this nonsense, you managed to focus the rest of the period, typing up an impressive amount of notes.

Professor Kim dismissed the class and you tried to not look so hurried in getting out of there.

“Miss (l/n)?”

You froze.

Shit.

You gulped before throwing your bag over your shoulder and walking up to your professor. “Yes?”

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Professor Kim said gravely. Gone was his usual friendly smile, replaced by a more serious expression.

Your heart was beating so fast that it was almost painful. Each glance at Professor Kim made it worse.

“About what?” you asked with a quivering voice.

He shook his head. “It’d be better if we talked in my office.”

Yup. He totally knew that you’d overheard him. This confirmed it... didn’t it?

What was he going to do?

You didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“I can’t. I have to get to class.”

Before he could protest or insist, you turned and ran up the stairs - tripping once or twice - fleeing the classroom.

Outside, you bent over, trying to catch your breath. You glanced over your shoulder to see if he’d followed you, but he was nowhere to be found. Good. You got away clean. At least until you had class again on Friday. Then what would you do? Dropping the class wasn’t an option. Maybe if you stayed in the back for the rest of the semester, you could easily avoid the professor. If need be, you could make friends with someone in the class and they could hand your work in for you.

Perfect plan.

Oh, you were such a scaredy cat.

What the hell were you doing here? Were you trying to get yourself killed?

Okay, killed was a bit dramatic. You doubted that Professor Kim would kill you if he found you out here while he was out… running with his pack. Well, if he was in control of his wolfy side, that is.

If any of that was real in the first place.

You couldn’t comprehend your own thought process that led to this particular decision. It didn’t make sense. After the whole fiasco with Professor Kim, you’d decided that you were going to avoid him. And yet, here you were, walking deeper into the woods as the sun disappeared from the sky. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it really might be true. That a pack of werewolves might actually be running around here. Your life was about finding out answers and you couldn't stop now.

You weren’t a woods person. You weren’t a hiking person. “Outside” didn’t bother you. It was just that the trees made you feel trapped, enclosed, like you were being towered over and watched with every step you took. Big open fields were much more preferable to you. Where you could see the sky as far as your eyes would let you. That’s where you found peace.

But the woods were the best place for you to find a group of werewolves that might have decided to go for a run in the moonlight. Your boots crunched the ground below you, leaving impressions in the dirt to mark your way. To keep your sight, you had a small flashlight in your hand, kept mostly pointed at the ground to stop any attention from being drawn towards you.

You repeated to yourself that you were out here doing this in order to prove that you weren’t crazy. That it was valid to have multiple sleepless nights thinking about you’d overheard. So, you made a deal with yourself among the trees. If you didn’t find any giant dogs or proof of werewolves tonight, you’d let it go. Or, at least try to.

For a good hour, you kept walking, keeping an eye out for any movement. You didn’t see anything in the corner of your eye beyond the occasional leaf. You’d give it another hour and then you’d give up. Countless times your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Probably Cam or Gemma trying to figure out where you were. You never stayed out this late and it was probably worrying them to death. When you decided to go back home then you’d call them back to let them know that you were safe and alive.

A howl ripped through the air. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your first instinct was to run. But that was a wolf’s howl, calling out to the moon. So, instead, you walked slowly towards the direction it came from, like an idiot. And you couldn't even say that you lived a full life.

Peeking out from behind a thick group of trees, you found him.

You caught the tail end of his transformation; the fur disappearing from his skin, the claws retracting from his fingers. He straightened up, stretching before inspecting a cut on his arm.

“I told Baekhyun to slow down,” Professor Kim grumbled to himself. He had no idea that you were hiding behind a tree, watching him.

Yes, you were watching him closely, fascinated.

While you didn’t get to see how he looked in full wolf form, you got to witness the middle and end of his transformation and that was the proof you needed. And that wasn’t all. You looked on as the deep cut on his upper arm healed up and disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. That made you forget yourself and gasp out loud.

Professor Kim snapped his head towards your direction.

Shit. He’d spotted you.

You ran. Like an idiot.

“(y/n)! Wait!”

You were not a recreational runner, so the fact that you quickly ran out of gas was no surprise to anyone. Professor Kim caught up to you in less than ten seconds, taking hold of your arm to bring you to a stop and turn you around.

“(y/n), please! I won’t hurt you!”

His voice sounded sincere and you didn’t think he would harm you in any way. You’d initially ran because your instinct told you to and that time you couldn’t resist it. But you went off on a ramble anyway.

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have come out here, but I heard you in your office and I couldn’t believe it when you kept talking about paws and a pack, but it kept me up at night and I thought that maybe it was just a strange metaphor and I figured I could prove that it was by coming out here. Please, I won’t tell anyone, just please let me go and-”

Professor Kim clamped a hand over your mouth to stop you. When he was confident that you wouldn’t start talking again, he removed it, grasping your other arm instead. “You overheard me in my office?”

You nodded slowly. “Talking to someone about stretching your paws and being the leader of a pack.”

He sighed. “So, you know what I am?”

Again, you nodded.

Tilting his head, he frowned. “You’re taking this very well.”

“Well, I’ve kind of been juggling this the past few days going back and forth between thinking that I was taking you too literally and thinking that werewolves might actually be real,” you explained. “But, yeah, inside I’m kind of freaking out. This calmness on the outside is just a thin veneer to try to keep from having a nervous breakdown.”

“You don’t have to be nervous with me,” Professor Kim reassured you. “I won’t hurt you. I don't mind that you know.”

“Y-you don’t?” That was… surprising. Shouldn’t he be worried that his secret was out. Well, not out out. But you knew now. Shouldn’t he be freaking out himself? The fact that both of you were calm right now was remarkable.

He shook his head. “No. I know I can trust you.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you promised. “Now, can you let me go?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He released you quickly, taking a step back. “Was I hurting you?”

“No,” you replied honestly. “You’re just naked.” That was actually only half the problem. You were doing a pretty good job at avoiding your eyes. It was working only because you were focusing on the skin-on-skin contact between the two of you. His hands were fire against your arms, burning the area where he touched, but it wasn’t painful. Almost pleasurable. With him so close, you couldn’t really concentrate on anything else.

“Oh, right.” In the dimly lit night, you couldn’t be entirely sure, but you could have sworn you saw the professor blush. “Um. Honestly, (y/n), it’s dangerous for you to be out here.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed. “And I have class tomorrow. I should… get home.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he volunteered.

You waved both hands in front of you. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want you to accidentally get caught like this.”

He actually laughed. “I won’t. I’ll be far behind you and see you to the edge.”

“Oh, okay.” You bit your bottom lip. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Please, call me Junmyeon.”

You couldn’t resist the smile that stretched across your lips. “Junmyeon.”

The way he lit up when you repeated his name made you want to say it over and over again. This wasn’t good. You were supposed be scared. Your professor was a werewolf. And yet, you felt completely at ease in his company.

Gently pushing on your shoulders, he turned you around back towards the city. “Don’t look back.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.”

You pouted, thankful that he couldn’t see your face. It was easy to conclude that he would turn into whatever wolfy form he usually took as he kept you safe on the way back. Why you couldn’t see it was the real question.

But you did as he asked, never looking behind you as you walked through the woods back to civilization. Until you broke through the trees and neared the sidewalk. Then you couldn’t resist. But you saw nothing among the trees as you scanned the area over your shoulder. Sighing, you turned around and kept going until you reached your car.

Checking your phone, you cringed at the amount of missed calls and texts from your best friends. You were so dead.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo supernatural au #exo scenarios #exo series #junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #suho #Charming Instruction #untamed wolf universe

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artemisegeria · 6 years ago

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Lingering Questions After Endgame (Spoilers)

1. Wibbly-Wobbly Timey-Wimey stuff/alternate timelines. This was definitely the most confusing part for me. I could go along with “You can’t change the future because it’s already your past,” though it’s a little difficult to wrap my head around. But I thought they were also trying to imply that the only thing that would create alternate timelines was not replacing the stones at the exact moment they were removed from the timeline. I could have missed something, but Bruce’s conversation with the Ancient One seemed to suggest that. But then they were talking about not interacting with earlier versions of themselves (which happened anyway), which suggests that that could also create alternate timelines. Which would mean that there are now untold alternate timelines floating around the MCU. There is the 2012 Loki doing who knows what with the Tesseract who could create numerous timelines himself by bouncing around time, the timeline where 2014 Thanos was wiped out, the timeline where Steve went back to Peggy, and there could be others.

2. What happened to Vision’s body? Did they just leave it in Wakanda? Did they move it to the compound, in which case it is most likely destroyed again? I can’t even really think of a good third option. I’m choosing to headcanon the former, but the latter makes more sense to me.

3. What’s the global political situation like? There’s one line in Endgame about the world’s governments being in pieces, which is to be expected. I imagine that each country would would have a different result depending on the state of the country pre-Snap, which members of their government were snapped away, what was going on in neighboring countries, etc. I imagine that some countries would split up, some might combine or form new borders. Very few would probably maintain the pre-Snap order over the next five years. So for example say a constitutional democracy has its whole presidential line of succession snapped away and some general takes control and turns the country into a military dictatorship. The president et al. return, feeling as if no time has passed. I imagine in many cases the dictator would not be willing to just give up power, leading to more civil wars across the globe. Even if the new government were willing to just return to the pre-Snap government, they would still have to fill everybody in on their five missing years. This could only be a huge mess for years, decades to come.

4. Did everybody who turned to dust really just die? Spiderman’s dialogue seemed to suggest that everybody who was snapped just died. They had no conscious experience of the five years the survivors lived through. They didn’t go anywhere else. So for them the final battle in Endgame feels like it is just a continuation of the Wakanda battle, fight on Titan, etc. from Infinity War. But I’ve seen some speculation that maybe the dusted people, or at least Gamora, really were trapped in the Soul Stone, and maybe don’t remember. They say that they may explore the rules and world of the Soul Stone more in GOTG 3, and that the soul stone version of Gamora is the one they’re searching for, not 2014 Gamora. I don’t know what to think about that theory.

5. How will the dusted people react to those missing five years? I had some thoughts about this before the movie came out, but I wasn’t sure if Marvel would actually do it. This could only cause more global upheaval. There would be children who never met or don’t remember parents, remarriages, deaths in the intervening years, probably whole new industries, the world in complete disarray. All the people returning would be like Scott, completely dumb-founded by all the changes. That would put a massive strain on every type of resource and institution. Yet the ending shows kids returning to school, almost as if nothing ever happened. I don’t even know how the movies and shows could address such consequences without becoming bogged down in all the details. And maybe they just won’t, but that would defy even my fairly high threshold for suspension of disbelief.

There are probably more, but these are the biggest ones currently on my mind.

#avengers: endgame #spoilers #endgame spoilers #mcu

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violethowler · 6 years ago

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What the Kingdom Hearts Series Means to Me

Holding the physical copy of Kingdom Hearts III that I pre-ordered and paid extra to have delivered on release day is a surreal experience. It feels like a dream in all honesty. Kingdom Hearts III used to be a formless thing. A cryptid that fans hoped to catch a glimpse of but didn’t really believe existed. To put it into perspective, Kingdom Hearts II first released when I was in third grade, and I’m currently approaching my graduation from college. Six games have been released in the last decade and a half to expand on the series’ lore and set up the major pieces for the next “main” installment, but only now are we getting Kingdom Hearts III. This franchise has been with me through middle school, high school, and college. It’s a big freaking deal.

I had never been passionately into video games as a kid. My first game system was the Nintendo GameBoy Advance, and the only games I was interested in playing were movie tie-in games that adapted the plot of a specific movie. The Incredibles. The Polar Express. Ice Age: The Meltdown, Madagascar. The only other game I can remember that wasn’t an adaptation of an existing film was a weird 3D Pacman game, but I don’t remember ever playing it as fervently as I did those old movie games.

Even after receiving a PlayStation 2 for either my birthday or Christmas in 2006, the only games I would play that weren’t movie adaptations were the NickToons crossover games like Battle for Volcano Island or Attack of the Toybots. But I only played them because they featured my favorite TV character. I was never interested in the storyline. That would change one day in late-summer/early autumn 2007, when, after seeing an advertisement for it in my old Disney Adventures magazines, I rented a PlayStation title I’d never heard of called Kingdom Hearts II.

In the beginning, I didn’t pay attention to the story. I just skipped through the cutscenes and focused exclusively on the gameplay. But as I got to the more difficult portions of the game, I started to watch the cutscenes and pay attention to the story. And the more I did, the more I fell in love with it. Once I had fully digested the story of Kingdom Hearts II, I wanted more. I went back and played the original Kingdom Hearts, then I bought Chain of Memories for my GBA. I was hooked. I started buying and reading the manga adaptations of the games. I bought a couple of collectible figurines. I. Was. Obsessed.

I spent much of my computer time in those days scouring the internet for every scrap of information I could find on the next games in the franchise. Kingdom Hearts III wasn’t in the cards yet, so I focused my attention on the three titles that I vaguely recall being collectively referred to at the time as “the handheld trilogy”: 358/2 Days, Birth by Sleep, and Coded. I searched with a fine-tooth comb on websites dedicated to gaming news in general and Kingdom Hearts specifically, hoping to find out more about these next three games.

In many ways, Kingdom Hearts helped me take my first tentative steps into the wider community of fandom. My search for news on the next games in the series unearthed funny fan-made comic strips about my favorite characters. Even though Kingdom Hearts III was still a fantasy by that point, I found people using Photoshop, or whatever image-editing software was popular around 2008 or so, to create ideas for what the cover art would look like. I found detailed fan art of potential new outfits for all the major characters. I found theories and ideas and the ever-raging bonfire of speculation that grows larger with each new game released. I found fan-made music videos and fanfiction to sate my hunger for more content between games. I wasn’t as involved in fandom to the extent that I am today, but my experience with Kingdom Hearts helped me dip my toes in the water, so to speak, as I started to engage more with my favorite media beyond simply consuming it once and then going back to watch/play it again when I needed something to do.

And what makes this day so much sweeter is how much effort Disney is clearly putting into promoting this game. Almost a decade ago, and the most advertising any Kingdom Hearts title got outside of dedicated gaming magazines or events was maybe a single tv commercial per game. The only way to know a new game was coming otherwise was if you were actively following the development of each title before they even locked in when it would come out. In the last six months of waiting for Kingdom Hearts III, there’s been a concert tour, multiple commercials and advertisements on both TV and social media, and even ads playing before the previews at movie theaters. After years of trying to share my love for this series, only for a handful of people to have ever heard of it, it’s a tremendous thrill to see the games I love finally getting mainstream recognition.

It’s because of this series that I even consider myself a gamer in the first place. Before Kingdom Hearts, I just plowed through every game I had, treating each level as just another puzzle or challenge to complete. But Kingdom Hearts II exposed me to the possibility of video games as a medium for storytelling, and it was through my engagement with the Kingdom Hearts storyline that I found myself seeking out other games with their own compelling stories. Final Fantasy, The World Ends with You, Horizon: Zero Dawn… These are some of the many games with stories and worlds that have enthralled me as someone who loves to both experience stories and create them. And without Kingdom Hearts, I would probably never been enough of a gamer to know or care that they existed.

When I was younger, I was only interested in games if they were available on the systems I had. But Kingdom Hearts wasn’t limited to only one console. In the early years of the franchise, the series was spread across the GameBoy Advance, PlayStation 2, Nintendo DS, PlayStation Portable, Nintendo 3DS, PlayStation 3, PlayStation 4, and smartphones. So, whenever my research uncovered that the next title would be on a console I didn’t own, I would go out of my way to get it, either by putting it on my holiday wish list, or by saving up the money for it myself. And usually, I would buy these platforms years in advance of the Kingdom Hearts game I’d got it for came out, so I would search for interesting games to play on it while I waited. And unlike before, now I was actively looking for things to play.

When it was just my GameBoy, PlayStation, and a handful of movie/TV show tie-ins, I didn’t go out of my way to look for new games. I relied on advertisements in my trusty Disney Adventures magazine to tell me what games that were out that might interest me. Nowadays, I annually watch live coverage of E3, the entertainment expo where game developers show off the status of their current projects or unveil their next main title. And I keep my eyes out for every title that looks entertaining from both a gameplay and story perspective, whether I see ads in a magainze, footage at E3, a trailer on YouTube, or fanart online.

Before I realized that animation was what I wanted to do as a career, my first dream job was to be a game designer. And if your first guess as to why I wanted to pursue that career path isn’t Kingdom Hearts, then in the words of one of the franchise’s original villains, “You have come this far, and still, you understand nothing.” While I ultimately realized that animation was my true passion as an artist, it was Kingdom Hearts that set me on the idea of turning my art skills into a career. Without Kingdom Hearts, I might not have ended up where I am today.

Most of the fandom knows that Kingdom Hearts III isn’t the end of the road for the franchise. Even aside from its immense popularity, series director Tetsuya Nomura has spoken about the fact that the series will continue beyond III, but that this represents the conclusion of the current story arc that has been going on since the original Kingdom Hearts game back in 2002. It’s fitting that this arc of the series is ending the same year that I graduate from college. This series has seen me through multiple chapters of my life. Middle school. High School. College. And in May, I’ll be a college graduate looking for a job. Each time I moved from one stage of life to the next, it always felt like the end. But it never is. But life goes on. The story will go on, but this chapter of it is over.

You can imagine, then, why today is such a big deal. This series has been with me for more than half my life. These games, and other media I obsess over to a similar degree, mean so much to be precisely because the story and characters connect with me on such a deep emotional level. My opinion on storytelling in any medium is that the ones that put your emotions in a blender and take you from screaming in anguish to crying tears of joy in the span of a few hours or less are the ones that deserve to be remembered. The best stories should leave you wanting to know more, not just out of curiosity over what happens next, but also for the satisfaction of knowing that the characters you’ve grown to love will be alright.

Kingdom Hearts has consistently checked every single one of those boxes for me for as long as I’ve been playing it. Even the prequels and midquels that ended in tragedy and heartbreak still had a note of assurance that there was still hope. Even if the games that inevitably come out post-KHIII hypothetically don’t have the same emotional impact on me that the pre-III ones did, I will never be able to stop loving the series I grew up with. I’ve been invested in it for so long that it feels like it’s woven into my DNA. This series has grown over the last eleven years just as I have, and whatever the future holds for the franchise, good or bad, I will never regret the time I’ve spent with this incredible saga.

#long post #kh fandom #kingdom hearts 3 #personal anecdote

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sparda3g · 7 years ago

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Gintama Chapter 679 Review

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I know I was asking for answers, but I think I will be fine if it doesn’t result to a cruel ending. Sorachi somewhat surprised the fans with a new backstory that leads to Gintoki’s discovery. The problem is that it’s clear that we are in for a dark and possibly depressing outcome. This chapter ignited a gripping story of master-disciple bond on a quest with inducing fear. This is not going to be easy...

It’s no wonder that we have plenty of comedy earlier. This chapter leaves nothing to laugh over; maybe with one panel of a kid falling on the ground hard, but outside of that, it’s downright serious. It’s too early to call, but I got to say, this backstory is perhaps the darkest one so far. It’s the culmination of father-son, master-disciple, and a man with a hard hitting temptation to end his heavy burden.

The beginning already starts off with the dark vibe with Gintoki in the flashback left on a journey to find something important. It’s the first time to see him looking extremely determined; it’s quite surreal. He asked the Inugami Maidens, Ane and Mone, to give him the pinpoint locations of every Dragon Holes. I admire Sorachi’s writing for using those two in plenty of significant plot points, even at this point. It goes to show you how his writing works. Whenever the character appears for an arc or so, they will hold a relevant contribution to exploit.

One of the sisters explained a newly informed detail of the Dragon Veins; even the lore gets expanded this late. There is no actual count on how many Dragon Veins are in the world; not even the Maidens can grasp all of them. Not only there are countless of it, but the size can differ from many. It can be the size of golf ball hole and it would be considered as a Dragon Vein. This does explain why Gintoki took a long time to resurface; at least in terms of reconnecting with old friends. There’s another reason why he took 2 years, but we’ll get to that soon.

The Maidens warned him that it can take forever, which already sound impossible because human nature, but without an actual response to them, rather to himself, he was hell bent to find “it;” even if it does take him decades. It’s astonishing how much he has spent his 2 year journey, going across Japan searching for every single one until he hits jackpot. The scary part is he would have left Yorozuya behind possibly forever. Could you imagine if he didn’t find it in 2 years prior? That’s how unbelievable his determination was. Thank God, he found it as early as he can get.

I thought the flashback ends there, but it’s only for momentary to unveil the grand revelation: Utsuro is alive. It’s no surprise for fans to guess, but it is undoubtedly a huge deal for the characters. After going through many hells he brought in, knowing he’s alive only brought the mood down further. Gintoki recovered Utsuro’s heart after 2 years, though it is left to speculate on whether the latter will resume his reign of terror or somehow, a miracle will bring Shouyou back. This is trivial since it can go to many directions with the heart in presence; not yet form a body. It could be a brand new Utsuro for all we know. It’s kind of freaky to even think on what to do if they cannot kill it.

I’m glad Sorachi shed the light on how Gintoki came to his decision to split up Yorozuya, though it came with an enthralling yet disheartening result. Gintoki proves to be smarter than what his image usually portrayed in comedy routine since he recalls Utsuro dropping himself into the vortex of the Dragon Vein. Because of it, he thought the possibility of his body being vaporized by the Altana in which he was originally born from it. In other words, how could he died by what he was originated from, let alone being his source of life. He describes with simple yet good thinking analogy with Utsuro to Altana and water to an ocean.

What grasped his attention were Utsuro’s final words as he was falling down into the vortex. It finally cleared up on why Gintoki went hasty to catch him. While he did want to stop him from escaping in a sense, he was compelled by his words, which is why he was really upset when he failed. It’s why Kagura and Shinpachi picked up his hurtful tone. It’s those words that gave Gintoki a purpose; to reunite with Shouyou somehow, someway. Could it be possible to save him? I was moved by his ambition as a loner. It is no longer for the sake of humanity and he’s not going as a Yorozuya; it’s Shouka Sonjuku’s Sakata Gintoki, going to put an end.

Back to the flashback and once again, it’s intriguing how much Sorachi continues to explore more of its lore at this time. There is one Dragon Hole that is enshrined for generations; even Ryuujin (Dragon God) dwells inside. That basically mean that hole is worthy of attention. The only question was whether Utsuro came out from there. Once the old man began to describe the story of a strange phenomenon, it was clear that Gintoki hit the jackpot. It’s a good thing the image of a mass of meat wasn’t fully displayed because it sounds rather disturbing. What shocked me is Utsuro was a baby.

It’s not just because the fact he was once a meat and somehow turned into a baby without medical logic. What truly startled me is if Utsuro was a child in the flashback, why the hell was Gintoki carrying his heart now? That gave a serious bad vibe; believing that he would kill a baby to remove the heart. The chapter wasn’t over, but I was freaking out around that point. It felt like it was building up that it was just Utsuro’s organs, but with a newborn baby, the end path was looking very grim.

While the ending is arguably the main spotlight, the page of one night with the baby is up there. It’s probably the grimmest display this series has offered. The protagonist Gintoki has the baby that once led a life of murders and destruction. He had the chance to put an end to the baby’s life, even though he probably could return later on. Even so, the train of thought drove Gintoki to approach the baby with a small sword and had the range to put it end. This was heavy stuff.

I was clinching my teeth. Sorachi got me believing that Gintoki ended it there. The paneling is excellent in this one page; how it shows his temptation to go through with it. His eye roared with anger, inch by inch to the heart, almost ending his suffering. Sorachi will get the protagonist’s hands dirty. It may not paint a bright light for inspiration, but for the sake of deeper storytelling, it should be done.

The next page was a huge sigh of relief that he didn’t do it. It’s crazy to imagine how it would feel if he did do it. Although he’s not doing it for the world, he technically did carry its fate by letting him live. If Utsuro does return, vicious and all, it would be his fault. If he did kill him, it would paint him as a disturbing image. The other risky part is who knows what the baby will grow up to. What if it was going to be Shouyou? It’s amazing how this one scene could have leaded him to many possibilities, but not worth feeling satisfied.

It’s jarring that after raising the baby for a bit, Utsuro has grown into a child, presuming the same age as when Shouyou met Gintoki for the first time. It transpires to a short but really nice father-son/master-disciple bonding scene with those two. To think, the role has been reversed as the two’s journey along the way. I feel like Sorachi is being cruel to have Gintoki experiencing in his master’s shoe and later, harbor another hardship end. That said it does create a very appealing backstory.

It does draw us fans closer to Gintoki’s character. He truly cherished his master more than anyone, so even though he was bothered by his presence, he can’t bring himself to kill. He would rather risk raising a child that could bring horror back than killing with a gamble. As funny as the line, “I feel like I’m raising a final boss” is, it holds many truths behind it. I felt his sincerity when he remembered Shouyou, connecting with how he probably felt as his master. It’s really touching to say the least; the most heartfelt scene of the chapter. That is until the end happened.

The parallel is so striking. Not only it told us how the role has been reversed but it was the trigger for Utsuro to speak for the first time. Every single line from him gave me crazy chills. It’s haunting how he can remember a lot as a child; detailing everything that answered Gintoki’s question. Those words keep on coming and it draws closer to the grand twist. The look on Gintoki’s face is very telling; you know how tensed it is when he’s awestruck by his words alone. It could play off like a horror film; unable to comprehend the scene. The message is clear: Shouyou has returned.

Honestly, it’s early to say if that is really the case, but it would appear that he was at least on the polite side as of that moment. It could be Shouyou, Utsuro lying under a false presence, or someone else entirely. It’s very tricky, but that’s what makes it gripping. It was such a heartfelt scene that unfortunately reminded me that this was all in the flashback. Why does Gintoki now carry the heart? What went wrong? Does it have to do with the request? It still leaves more questions but I am thrilled to learn more.

This was a strikingly emotional chapter that Sorachi has outdone himself once again. Just because the series is ending doesn’t mean he is burnt out of writing. He continues to deliver a rich story with plenty of outcomes that is nothing but dark. The shivering tone of that one night was so intense I thought my eyes were fooling me. I did read it in the early morning, so you could imagine how I reacted. The storytelling has been excellent so far and the ending was touching but possibly alarming. We have a long wait for the next chapter. Damn you and your timing, Gorilla!

#gintama #chapter 679 #review

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mrsbenedictbridgerton · 8 years ago

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Don’t Buy Me No Flowers Ch 2

ff.net / ao3

Florist AU

A chance meeting over a crushed bouquet of roses is enough to convince Killian Jones that Emma Swan is the woman for him.

The soft hum of local radio filled the back room of ‘Frozen Blooms’. Being a Wednesday, things were pretty quiet so Killian was taking the time to catch up on the arrangement he was crafting for his final college exams, safe in the knowledge that the bell above the door would alert him to any customers as Elsa took her lunch break. He hummed softly along to the sound of easy listening as he worked, sorting and mixing varieties, searching for that special something that would give them the ‘wow’ factor. Realistically, he had already passed on credits alone. But he had always been the competitive type and he planned to get the highest grade possible. It was in his blood. And he knew he could do it.

Even thinking about that made him grin to himself. He’d been as surprised as anyone when he had discovered an aptitude for floristry. It had only take a few weeks of kicking about in Liam and Elsa’s ramshackle house out by the woods for him to become restless. A vacancy at the florist shop and a teasing comment from Liam that ‘you’d be rubbish at that’ had stoked a fire in him, and before he knew it he was whipping up bouquets like no one's business. And he was actually talented. Good enough to work for a real certification at Storybrooke Community College. Good enough for Elsa even to make hints about him entering something into the town’s Summer Craft Fair in a couple of months. Whatever may come from this newfound skill, he had learned that working with flowers and plants was one of the few things that helped him forget the numbness in his fingers and the lack of flexibility in those digits didn’t seem to impinge at all on his abilities. In fact, floristry seemed to bring upon him an utter sense of calm that he hadn’t felt since he had had to cut his career short.

It was almost one pm, and time for Elsa to return, when the sound of the bell above the door ringing was quickly followed by the clatter of said door being slammed shut. Eyebrow quirked, he quickly wiped his hands on the rag he kept for such things and headed through the curtain into the store.

He was barely past the threshold when he registered just who had slammed the door, his breath catching.

It was… her. Same fiery green eyes and golden hair. Minus the red dress - instead, she was clad in a blood red leather jacket and skin tight dark jeans. An altogether less revealing but somehow even more alluring prospect. Surprised, it took a moment for him to collect himself. And notice the scowl she wore on her lovely features.

“May I help you?” he asked, pulling back his shoulders and arranging his face in the best interpretation of nonchalance he could muster.

Miss Swan- Emma, he remembered- rolled her eyes and a second later an abused bouquet of white roses slammed on the countertop between them. Petals scattered. Her scowl deepened.

Killian cocked his jaw and placed his hands on his hips.

“I said no more flowers,” she replied, with barely suppressed rage seeping from every pore.

His brows pinched together, not quite expecting that as an opening line from the woman who had captured his imagination only a few days earlier.

“Aye, I remember,” he said, uncertain just where she was going to take this fresh tirade.

Haughtily, she folded her arms and gave him an incredulous look. “And?”

Killian let out a soft snort of laughter and shook his head as he examined the unfortunate blooms. “Well, first, if one doesn’t want to receive flowers it’s customary to inform the sender.”

She opened her mouth to reply but he held up a finger to silence her.

“And, in case you are not aware, I am not the sole employee of Frozen Blooms. My employer must have arranged this yesterday - my day off - therefore I can assume no responsibility for said arrangement.”

She glared at him for a moment and her expression showed a flicker of hesitancy. Finally she shifted, folding her arms and taking a deep breath . “You could have warned your co-workers,” she hissed, though the tone of her voice did not match the uncertain way her lips began to thin.

With a confident smile, Killian lifted up the hatch on the counter that allowed access to where she stood. His hands slid into his pockets - ever conscious of the stiffness of his lame hand and how easily it was often noticed - and he gave her a haughty glance. “Sadly your romantic woes are not on the top of my agenda list.”

She was silent, pursing her lips even further. He’d hit a nerve.

“And if I may presume to give you some advice?”

The blonde watched him, her eyes skittering across his face.

“Your rage seems somewhat misdirected.” His voice softening, he stepped a little closer to she was within touching distance. The strange intimacy of the shadowed shop, empty of all but him and her, made him bold enough to speak his mind. “He’s not worth it.”

There was a pause, enough for a heartbeat.

“And what would you know?”

Indeed, what would Killian Jones know of romantic woes? The man who had shunned all romantic entanglements for so long that women - beyond merely the physical - were seemingly as much a mystery to him as particle physics. But one thing he was aware of was that she deserved better.

“Whatever he did - to make you… hate him so much - he couldn’t have cared for you.” He took a second to gauge her guarded reaction. “More fool him.”

As the two took the measure of each other, to the sound of the ticking clock behind them, the front door opened again, Elsa flauncing in with her arms laden with bags from the town’s best baby boutique.

“Perfect timing,” he smiled, an idea forming. “How about you buy me to a coffee to apologise.”

“For what?”

“For shouting at me. As much as I enjoy being the subject of your misdirected rage.”

For a moment he thought he had pushed too far, that their verbal sparring had not, in fact, been a sign that she was in some way interested in him.

Finally, she sighed. “Well I was about to head to Granny’s-”

“Perfect,” he nodded. “Elsa, I’m just heading out on my break.”

And before either woman could say further on the subject he was pulling off his apron and reaching for his coat.

Granny’s was the only place for lunch in town. Which was a good thing as it served the best coffee Killian had ever tasted and had a retro-kitsch interior that just screamed Americana (and he had been reliably informed had not changed in at least a few decades).

They sat at the counter on vinyl topped stools that sagged with age and soundlessly spun, placed their orders with the busy waitress and waited for their coffees and grilled sandwiches to arrive. He’d made sure to sit on her left, his less flexible hand resting on his thigh. With his other hand, Killian toyed with the napkin the waitress had placed before him. “So have you always hated flowers or is this a recent affliction…?”

Emma gave him a sideways glance. “It’s recent.”

Two steaming mugs of coffee were slid in front of them and the pair busied themselves adding creamers and sugars. Surreptitiously, he watched her through his lashes as he stirred. She really was incredibly beautiful, his first impression had been correct. Even an underestimation. Yet there was a tenseness in her expression, a reservation which seemed at odds with the woman who had destroyed not one - but two bouquets of innocent blooms. She seemed almost skittish, guarded, and he wasn’t arrogant enough to take all the credit for that. He decided to try and get her to open up.

“So, the furniture guy. Doesn’t seem your type.”

He expected some rebuke. Perhaps a comment on him overstepping a line. Instead she sipped her coffee and eyed him quietly.

“That was on purpose,” she replied after a few moments. “People have been telling me for years that I have bad taste - that I’ve gone for the wrong type of guy. And I accept that I’ve made some… questionable choices in the past.”

He raised a brow. “I hear you there.”

She digested his comment, running her tongue along her bottom lip in a manner that caught his breath, distracting him until he noticed that their waitress had placed their lunches in front of them.

Emma picked up her sandwich and took a bite. Killian did the same, waiting for her to continue her story.

“So, anyway, when I moved here, I decided to make a new start. Date the kind of man they say is safe. You know, clean cut, has a decent job, holds open the car door for you, that kind of thing.”

Killian began to internally speculate just what kind of men she was previously involved with to have such low expectations. He’d always had a strong sense of honour, even before joining the armed forces. Treating women with the utmost respect and chivalry, no matter how temporary their acquaintance. An idea formed that some of the armour she wore, must indeed at least in part be a consequence of some man. Though he loathed to call the fool (or fools) who had hurt this woman by that term.

“Walsh asked me out when I was picking some furniture for my new place. He seemed to fit that description… Well, turns out while we had decided we were exclusive after a few dates, that wasn’t stopping him sleeping with someone else.”

Killian took in a quick intake of breath. He watched her face for signs of pain, but only saw a deepening frown as she occupied herself with working on her sandwich. It was then that it dawned on him how much she was revealing to a practical stranger. Which then forced more questions… did she have someone? A friend? Family? He had Elsa and Liam; whenever things had gotten difficult for him -especially after his accident - they had been there to shore him up. Without them he wasn’t sure how he would have coped.

In lieu of any smart comment, he replied with a simple. “I’m sorry.”

She raised a hand. “It’s fine. It’s not like I… well, just lets say I’m more angry than anything. At him and myself.”

Her sandwich all but gone, she had wrapped her hands around the mug emblazoned with Granny’s logo and pulled it closer to her. Like she was hiding herself behind that coffee, using it as some kind of shield to conceal just how big an impact the betrayal had had. Not that she thought she had loved him. He couldn’t see a woman like her falling for a man like Walsh. The little contact he had had with the other man had shown him to be a bit of a cold fish. Restrained and calculated.

“Don’t beat yourself up love. It’s not worth it.” With that. He crumpled up his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate. Their efficient waitress was there seconds later clearing away.

“That smacks of personal experience,” she replied, a hint of challenge in her tone and even, perhaps, the barest sign of a smile emerging at the edges of her luscious lips.

Lips that caught his attention once more, bringing him away for a moment, sinking the image into his subconscious, for another time. Finally he composed himself with a sip of coffee, dragging his gaze to her green eyes.

“That would involve actually having a love life of my own.”

“Wait, what. You can’t tell me that you-” she let out a small laugh that was almost magical to his ears, “Come on. Good looking guy like you…”

“You think I’m good looking?”

He grinned. Flirtatious banter her could do. This was familiar territory.

She seemed to feel the shift too, the tension in her face further lifting, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“I’ve been here just shy of a year and romance has not been at the top of my priority list. And before that I was more asea than ashore,” he explained.

“You’re a sailor?”

“Ex her majesty's navy,” he nodded, enjoying the appreciative look she gave him, watching her take him in, almost like she was reassessing him with this new information at hand, her eyes quickly tracking over his form, her head tilting to one side as questions passed over her face.

“An ex-sailor who is now a florist.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, with a smile. “Lieutenant Killian Jones. At your service.”

He held out his hand, more out of habit than anything else. It also occurred to him that is was the first time he had told her his name.

“Lieutenant,” she echoed, taking the hand her offered, grasping it tightly. Her had was warm, smaller than his but not delicate. He felt a strength there within those soft digits. Warm, tingly sparks travelled up his arm from where their skin met in the most innocent of ways. He tried not to show how the simple contact was affecting him. How for a second he was breathless. How his initial interest in her was slowly becoming fascination, tempered by something even basic. An elemental attraction that he wasn’t sure he could understand, but certainly wanted to explore.

Slowly, she slid her palm from his. Her hair slid like a curtain between them as she finished her coffee. He wasn’t able to see if she had been affected by the contact, but then he’d scoffed at that thought. It was just a handshake. Wasn’t it.

“Look, I am actually sorry for shouting at you like that. It’s a bit out of character.”

“Don’t apologise. I like the fiery side of you.” He took a second to drain his coffee cup. Their reasons for being in each other’s company were coming to a close. And then would he see her again? Perhaps not. And that would not do. “Maybe we could… do this again. You look like you could do with a friend.”

She gave him a wry smile as she pulled a few bills from her jeans pocket. “I’m not in the market for a date right now.”

He stood and did the same, leaving a healthy tip for the overworked wait staff. He waited as she straightened her hair over her jacket and then met her eye.

“I didn’t ask you out. Not everyone who is nice is hitting on you.”

And as much as he was attracted to her - he couldn’t deny that - he was speaking the truth. She was an enigma to him, more layers becoming uncovered as he got to see the little of herself she revealed. He wanted to know more. He yearned to learn her secrets and all the things that had formed Emma Swan into the complicated woman before him. He wanted to know her. What happened next, was all up to the hands of fate. He tried to ignore the niggling part of his mind that reminded him that it had been years since any woman had come close to intriguing him in this way. Not since the woman who had almost crushed his heart.

She looked at her watch and then back at him. “I have to be somewhere right now.”

He deflated a little as he expected her to make her excuses and leave, only to see his spirits rise as she took a pen from her jacket pocket and made a few scribbles on her untouched napkin.

Unceremoniously, she handed it to him with a curt nod.

“Thanks for lunch,” he replied, but she was already leaving.

And then he remembered, he’d actually paid for his own damn sandwich.

The bus from Storybrooke Elementary was as punctual as ever, stopping at the corner of Fifth and Elm at 2:05 precisely. A gaggle of excited children emerged, ensconced within them a brown haired boy with eyes that reminded her far too much of his father.

Emma pushed away thoughts of him - and all men - as she greeted Henry, pulling her arms around him and revelling in the fact that they had found each other while he was still young enough to let her indulge in such public displays of affection. She held him tight for a moment as he babbled with tales of his day and all little stories of his friends and teachers. When she pulled back she smiled.

“So it was a good day.”

“It was a great day,” he affirmed, taking her hand as they strolled towards the park. This was part of their routine. Wednesdays, she met him after school, took him to the park and then they went back to her apartment for dinner. That, in addition to every other weekend spent together, was the agreement she had came to with his adopted mother after some rather tense negotiations and the intervention of a county court judge who had agreed that such an arrangement was in Henry’s best interests.

“What about you? Catch any bad guys?”

“Not today,” she smiled, amused by his innocent view of her line of work.

“So did you do anything exciting then?” he pressed as they waited at the sidewalk to cross into the park.

Her mind flickered to her impromptu lunch with Killian Jones. The mysterious florist with eyes she could just drown in. On first meeting, she had been too irrate to really appreciate just how handsome he was, but now she was under no illusion. He was dangerously attractive. Just the kind of man she had promised herself to now avoid. And then he’d gone and shown himself to be charming and well, nice- She caught that thought. He was almost a stranger. All she really knew was that he liked Monterey Jack in his grilled cheese and knew how to sail a boat. Or ship. Whatever.

And she’d given him her damn phone number.

She noticed Henry was watching her so fixed him with a bright smile.

“It was a pretty boring day,” she lied. A few paces later they were in sight of the swing set. “Hey kid, how about we see how high we can get you?”

Like that he was racing away, leaving his mother to hide her heated cheeks and leave all thoughts of Killian Jones to another time, more appropriate, time.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs ff au #don't buy me no flowers #jill writes things

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aion-rsa · 5 years ago

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The Mandalorian: Is Luke Skywalker the Jedi Who Will Find Grogu?

https://ift.tt/37lAjUs

This Star Wars: The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

When Din Djarin first met Grogu, he probably knew less about Star Wars than anyone reading this article. The Jedi were a mystery to him, known to the Mandalorians only as ancient sorcerer enemies. But as we know — and as Din has finally learned — Grogu has deep ties to the Jedi.

After Ahsoka Tano reveals Grogu’s past as a Jedi youngling who was forced to go into hiding during Order 66, she sends the duo to the planet Tython, the birthplace of the Jedi Order, so that Grogu may use the Force to reach out to another Jedi to train him. Ahsoka doesn’t say who might answer the call, but does allude to the fact that there are very few Jedi left in the galaxy five years after Return of the Jedi.

In fact, we know of only one other living Jedi during the time period of The Mandalorian: Luke Skywalker. But where exactly is Luke during The Mandalorian? And what if he’s the Jedi meant to find Grogu?

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

Since Disney rebooted the Star Wars timeline, we know little about Luke’s adventures after Return of the Jedi. But a few brief appearances in the comics, movies, and books confirm he’s out there during the time of The Mandalorian, learning more about the Jedi and preparing to start his own academy. The Luke of this era of galactic rebuilding is more optimistic about the Jedi ways than the aging legend we met in The Last Jedi.

Luke traveled around the galaxy to find Jedi relics from which he could piece together what the old order had been like. He started his quest not long after the Battle of Endor, first going to the planet Pillio in Battlefront II to uncover the Jedi star compass that would one day lead him to Ahch-To, the planet where Luke eventually exiled himself. In the comic book miniseries Shattered Empire, which takes place just three months after Endor, Luke traveled to the planet Vetine with ace Rebel pilot Shara Bey (Poe Dameron’s mother) to recover the Force tree that once stood in the grounds of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant before the Empire took over. As revealed in The Rise of Skywalker, Luke also trained Leia in the ways of the Jedi during this time.

The Mandalorian: Is Cal Kestis the Jedi Who Will Find Grogu?

By Megan Crouse

The Mandalorian: Is Mace Windu the Jedi Who Will Find Grogu?

By Megan Crouse

Luke eventually disappeared from galactic affairs altogether in order to search for the sacred Jedi texts and other secrets of the Force with Lor San Tekka, the explorer and Jedi devotee who would remain an ally to Luke until his death in The Force Awakens almost three decades later. This era of Luke’s life is broadly explored in resource books for The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker, as well as briefly dramatized in the comic book miniseries The Rise of Kylo Ren, which covers events from 14 years after Return of the Jedi all the way to right before The Force Awakens.

After learning much more about both the light side and dark side of the Force, including pieces of Sith history he discovered on their ancient home planet of Moraband, Luke decided he was ready to build a new temple for a new generation of students. In 15 ABY (After the Battle of Yavin), 7 years after The Mandalorian, Luke took his nephew Ben Solo as his first apprentice before recruiting other Jedi hopefuls. If you’ve watched the Sequel Trilogy, you know the rest.

The point is that, since The Mandalorian takes place in 9 ABY, Luke is still on his quest for Jedi knowledge at that point. It would make sense that Luke would be on the lookout for Force signals like the one Grogu sends from the seeing stone on Tython, a planet so full of Jedi history that it’d likely be one of Luke’s stops during his quest anyway. He’s been searching for ruins and records, but to find a living Jedi would be even better.

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Although Grogu did live at the Jedi Temple of old, he seems too young to be able to tell anyone much about that experience. But Luke could still learn from Grogu as much as the little guy could learn from him. The baby would represent for Luke a future for the Jedi in which the light side has a firm foothold in the galaxy. The problem with their potential meeting is that we know that future doesn’t come to pass, or at least not as soon as Luke expects. Star Wars storytellers are good at coming up with reasons why different tales don’t contradict one another, but it would be a major task to explain why Luke and Grogu met and then were separated by the time of the Sequel Trilogy. But these are exactly the kind of shenanigans that make for fun Star Wars stories.

There’s no doubt that The Mandalorian presents a very interesting opportunity to bring in Luke at a point in his life which we’ve never seen on screen, and it’s no secret fans have spent years imagining Marvel actor Sebastian Stan as a replacement for Mark Hamill as a younger Luke, but there are other things to consider. Would a Luke appearance in The Mandalorian prove too distracting? Would it make people care less about Din and Grogu knowing a legacy character like Luke now exists in the universe of the show?

Skywalker @themandalorian #sebastianstan #TheMandalorian @disneyplus pic.twitter.com/q2c0jyJVaw

— BossLogic (@Bosslogic) November 28, 2020

Most importantly, Din and Grogu’s connection is the heart of this show. Would Luke really take Grogu away to train him, breaking up the duo that’s made the series so successful in the first place? The answer to that question is almost certainly a resounding no. But it’s fun to speculate.

Keep up with all of The Mandalorian season 2 news here.

The post The Mandalorian: Is Luke Skywalker the Jedi Who Will Find Grogu? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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seeyouwednesdayrecords · 8 years ago

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Anxiety Tripping at the Gates of the Merriweather Post Pavilion

A Guide to Going to Shows Alone

Leila Escandar

The conversation tends to follow this format:

Person A: “Who'd you go with?”

Me: “Uh, it was just me.”

Person A: “So, you went by yourself?”

Me: *Mentally* “That’s exactly what I just said.”

Me: *Aloud* “Well, I booked my ticket when I saw they'd be here. When I found someone who'd want to go, too, it was already sold out. So, yeah, I went by myself.”

Maybe if I was having this conversation a few years ago, I would have been Person A. I’d react in mild surprise that someone would go to an event that involves a lot of waiting around in some form of a crowd- be it a door line, bar line, bathroom line, or general admission crowd-without company. Wouldn’t that be lonely or-even worse(!)- boring? Wouldn’t you feel uncomfortable standing around while groups of friends or couples chatted mindlessly around you in between sets? Wouldn’t you be aware that people might notice you standing there alone for so long you must not have come with anyone else?

~~~

It was a deceivingly spring day circa mid-April in New York. I debated bringing a jacket for almost half an hour before leaving my apartment. I was going to a show at a venue that just opened in Greenpoint. If you don't know where that is, it's the a little east of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. An extension of the hip, but where trains don't go. Living in Florida for over a decade gave me the deviced notion that not everywhere offers coat check. Upon walking out of the door of my building, I knew skipping on a light spring jacket was a grave mistake, but I went with it & continued on my way to the train.

I got there late, hoping to not wait through the first band, but the line indicated it was the actual time of the doors opening (regardless of the advertised time on the ticket sale). I felt a combination of frustration that I'd have to watch the opener & contentedness that this new venue was already off schedule while I waited for the ID checkpoint, with the confusing April breeze under the sunshine trying to throw off my body temperature.

There was a massive line at the entrance bar I dreaded waiting in en route to the ladies room, noting the irony of passing coat check before entering the restroom. On my way out, I contemplated the line for the bar before forfeiting and pulling the door open to the performance area. There was already a large crowd in the general admission section, but the opener hadn't even started sound check.

I made my way to the line-lacking bar (ha-those suckers needing a drink upon entry), yards beyond the stage, and ordered my first of two overpriced craft beers before working my way stage right through the crowd, finding myself in notable visibility. I was surrounded by people well beyond my age (doubled even), a father & underage son, a mass of drunken couples, & one other solo flyer to show who I’d later find out was lost from his friend due to a dead phone, and would eventually let me score front row access due to my lack of height. When we talked after the encore, he asked if I came alone, and when I answered yes, his response was something along the lines of being impressed.

That’s the word he used: impressive. I’m forced to question that diction. Impressive is a word used to describe something that takes more of a skill level or a relentless amount of hard work, like being able to type 120 wpm or graduating from law school while working full time. Not something as easy as drinking a couple of beers and seeing a band you love.

~~~

There is a subtle stigma about doing things, though, that are perceived as a social activity by yourself, that perhaps only exists as a projection onto others because of our own egos. As if humans weren’t already inherently vulnerable to the need of seeking approval for centuries upon millenniums, the invention of social media has only amplified that need to a crippling extent. Realistically, I can’t comment on if it was more of a social norm to attend a concert alone thirty years ago, but I can comment on the reactions I get now whenever I go see a band I like solo (see above).

My first experience of going to a concert alone was Cinco de Mayo 2015. We do Secret Santa in my family for the past 6 or so years, yet it never remains confidential. That year, one of my sisters had gotten me, and I told her all I wanted was a ticket to the Neutral Milk Hotel show in Orlando. It was allegedly their last tour as a band (I say allegedly because to this day, July 1st, 2017, they have yet to perform together again, but you know how final tours go). I luckily got the ticket, expecting she'd buy herself one too. For whatever reason, she hadn't. No worry, Amanda would just go with me, but she waited just long enough to buy her ticket that it was already sold out by the time she took the initiative.

I remember the day of and my mom telling me to skip the two hour drive to Orlando, it wasn't worth it. Naturally I didn't take her advice, and shortly after was on 1-4, blaring “In An Aeroplane Over The Sea” in anticipation of my soon to be role of Jeff Mangum Fangirl Extraordinaire.

They did a Broadway-esque performance, i.e. no photography beyond authorized press or you’re getting kicked it out. It’s a unique protocol to enforce, and makes for an experience nothing short of spectacular. It was an amazing night where nobody was attached to their phones. There was no video evidence we had attended. We were all living in the present and experiencing the music. It felt somewhat isolated without familiar company, but I made show friends. Leaving the venue with chills, I couldn’t imagine having missed that for the fear of going by myself.

A few months later, I was living in Brooklyn, and if you didn’t already know, there is one major benefit of living in the city for any music lover: no musician skips it, despite the length of their tour. The uninhibited need to go see bands I love even though I had no friends here that had my music taste started slowly. First it was The Dig. I’d bought a ticket for myself, and on my way there, found a who friend decided to tag along with me.

Planning on going alone to that show, though, sparked a new level of comfort in going to see whoever I wanted to, because I wanted to. First it was Andrew Bird at Terminal 5, & shortly thereafter Peter, Bjorn,& John at Baby’s All Right. Then Conor Oberst for my (6th?) time. Then Beirut at Celebrate Brooklyn, & I already had a Ticketmaster gift card through work that'd cover the ticket.

It started feeling normal. A good friend’s brother’s band,The Fritz, at Arlene’s Grocery in September. A friend suggested Explosions in the Sky, & of course I was going, even if they hadn't asked. The Good Life announced their first tour in years. Conor Oberst released Ruminations and would be playing at Carnegie Hall a month later. Tickets were pricey, but I was going. The pattern is clearly becoming visible. It wasn’t as though I was forming the habit of going to see live music, but breaking the bad habit of believing I needed someone to go with me if I wanted to go. It went from feeling normal to just being natural, and once something starts feeling familiar, you have a much better understanding of why.

Let’s break down the three (most likely) reasons people attends concerts:

They want to hang out with their friends under the influence of one/multiple substances and have an excuse to be loud/listen to loud music.

They want the bragging right’s of seeing a particular band, even though they only song they know by that band. (For instance, in 2015 a friend and I overheard a girl at a Modest Mouse concert in Florida saying she “drove all the way from North Carolina to see Modest Mice. I really hope they play ‘Floating Away’”). Alternatively, they are trying to see as many bands as possibly (again, mostly for bragging rights). This second tier of bragging rights is mostly those fest-people, you know, the hoopers, the fire-spinners, the burners, the wookies. The people who brag about seeing Kendrick and Alabama Shakes, but only saw 10 minutes of each of their sets at Bonnaroo.

They want to experience their favorite music live. They want a genuine experience that brings them closer to the music that has gotten them through the best and worst time of their lives.

If you are like me, you go to concerts for reason number 3 (although sometimes 1 & 2 can be fun, supporting perks of reason number 3). If you are going for reason number 3, the first few shows you go to alone do make you experience that unspoken judgement of attending them by yourself. The reason you keep going to shows alone is because of how you feel afterward.

I recently read an article that may have been pop psychology, but speculated that people who go see live music are overall happier than those who don’t. We are all just trudging through our days wondering what the meaning of it all is, searching for happiness, so why not take action toward doing things that foster some form of joy. Even if that means going to shows alone...

#indiemusic

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100hands · 8 years ago

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ARCHITECT & INTERIORS INDIA / HOT 100 May 30, 2017

When and how did you establish your practice? Sunitha Kondur, my partner, and I started our practice in June 2003. Our first commission was a ‘graphic’ wall for a software office (thanks to my friend & classmate Hareesh Asnani) and soon after, out of the blue we were contacted by an old client from the US who was planning to build an orphanage in Trichy. We soon set up shop in a bedroom at home, hired three young architects and were off.

What is the nature of services offered by your company? We work across scales, from product & furniture design to master planning. We also make movies and have done some branding and graphic design. Sunitha also runs Source, a product sourcing company focused on Furniture and accessories.

What is the design philosophy of the firm, one that is manifested across all projects in some form or the other? The studio’s approach is grounded in the search for contextually appropriate solutions. Special emphasis is given to the response to climate, the existing scale and character of the context, appropriate use of materials and construction techniques, and the development of the project aesthetic as a result of these specific conditions. We believe that this recognition of what exists leads to a more sensitive speculation of what can be. The work seeks to identify appropriate metaphors for the particular exigencies of a project and our larger identity as a people - a search for ‘the beautiful idea’.

What prompted you to choose architecture/design? I got into architectural school purely on the advice of my school warden, Bro. George Kalangod, who in all his wisdom saw potential in my talents in drawing, physics and performance. It wasn’t till my third year at BMS, Bangalore, working on NASA, that I really began comprehending what I had got myself into.

What role did your family play in your decision of choosing this profession? There are no other architects or designers in my family, nonetheless, they supported me wholeheartedly. My grandfather came with me for multiple entrance exams (CEPT, SPA, Delhi) all of which I flunked and then finally thanks to Mr. Bhaskaran, an uncle of mine in Bangalore we managed to get a seat here. In fact, with my parents in Dubai, I (conveniently) stayed with Bhaskarettan and Thangachechi through my five years at architecture school!

What are your educational qualifications? What were the lessons learnt at your alma mater? I have a Bachelor’s degree (B.Arch) from Bangalore University (BMS College of Engineering) and a Master’s degree (S.M.Arch.S.) from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Last year, we were at a retreat with Aniket (Bhagwat) and Samira (Rathod), and I was to talk about architecture and education and of course, I spoke about good teachers, the well-equipped library, access to illustrious minds often - a place of exchange, etc. and BMS was none of that. We had a couple of really good teachers but by and large, the college ran on auto-pilot.

We had no attendance requirements, and we were on a yearly scheme but there was something about the place then and it reflects in a lot of contemporary practitioners here – Vimal, Sandeep, Manoj (Architecture Paradigm), Nagaraj (Vastarey), Amaresh (Khosla Associates), Latha, - wonderful, sensitive people.… And I do not know what it is about that time at BMS where in spite of the fact that there wasn’t this kind of inspired instruction, it was nevertheless a place of incredible energy. And most of this energy was focussed on the NASA trophies. This exposure at NASA, competing with the rest of the colleges was really the testbed for a lot of us. And so when I think back, I do not know how you institute that as a principle for an architecture school – that you have to have inspired colleagues, as students and the sublime work coming not from a solitary genius but from a ‘scenius’. A collective, shared project.

This rather loose structure at BMS prepared me well for MIT, where we had very few prescribed courses and had to structure our two years there mostly on our own. Doing a graduate degree abroad forces one to confront one’s own identity. The foreign context calls into question one’s deep seated values, assumptions, and prejudices. It was invigorating. MIT also introduced me to some incredible teachers - Julian Beinart (City Form), Michael Dennis (Urban Design), Dennis Adams (Public Art) and colleagues. This experience made me realize my own inadequacies and has since forced me to always carefully consider how we work and what we produce.

What or who inspires you and why? Inspiration comes often from the most unlikely sources - a random conversation with the client, a movie poster, a line from a song, the colour of the sky just before sunset, the left over pieces of mill board, The sudden (and substantial) reduction of the project budget... Rafiq Azam, the great Bangladeshi architect, told me once that he often spends a whole day at site, getting to know it - that light breeze that comes in from the south, the early morning sun that lights up a patch of the grounds, the family of monkeys who come to eat the Jackfruits...soon these are all informing subtle shifts in the plan, accommodating a life that already exists here. As Mr. Doshi says, “So always there are clues. We must be aware to use them.”

Who would you consider to be your mentors? How have they influenced you as a person and as a professional? I have been really fortunate to have had so many great teachers. I would like to specially mention Mr. Anil Dube, my teacher at BMS, who taught me to draw, to carefully consider what exists, to evocatively represent ideas, and to listen.

Which, according to you, are your milestone projects? And why? Which projects represent the turning points of your career? Ones that have either shaped you in a certain way or propelled your practice to the next level. Alila.Bangalore & Nua were important projects for us. We were very fortunate to get clients like Gautam Nambisan and Vinutha Kondur. Both projects were on site simultaneously and we really got an opportunity to test many of the ideas we had, here. These projects gave us the opportunity to design everything, from environmental graphics and signage (my brother Premjit did this), furniture and product (lights, accessories) design to landscape, interiors and architecture. They were also kind enough to involve great consultants, like Allies and Morrison (on Alila) who taught us so much about architecture and the way to practice.

Our early work for Hope Foundation (mostly community buildings in the Tsunami hit areas of Tamil Nadu)has also been very instructive. We did eight buildings with them, all on very limited budgets (on an average around Rs.700/sft). We were forced to consider what was truly indispensable for us - settling often for a careful articulation of structure and choice of materials to establish the aesthetic of these buildings. In hindsight, these early projects informed our practice in fundamental ways. We continue to approach our work with a certain pragmatism and resist the ever-present temptation to be willful or capricious.

What is your dream project, whether or not it could be realised? I often remember Kahn’s comment about ‘spaces full of wonder. Spaces that rise and envelope flowingly without beginning, without end, of a jointless material white and gold’...every project begins with this dream and it is always less...I guess this is the great joy of being an architect - the next project will almost certainly be different and hopefully better - a little more of that wondrous space tamed and brought into the world.

Where do you see yourself and your firm in the next decade or so? Hopefully still enthusiastic, making more buildings, more movies, and being more engaged with the world around us.

In addition to the above, we would like you to mention: 1. A built structure that gets a perfect score in your opinion... and why. I enjoy the first phase of IIM Bangalore (Administration, Director’s office, library, first classroom and faculty clusters, etc.). This is an incredible synthesis of Doshi’s ideas about the open ended frame, allusions to ancient temple precincts, managing & celebrating water, landscape... I still remember that first glimpse of the triple storey pergola’d connector - something archaic and yet modern, systematic and yet messy and open-ended, voluminous and yet intimate. This idea of an ambiguous, difficult to define entity is such an apt metaphor for this place of higher learning...an open frame constantly expanding, able to receive any number of variations and additions and yet retaining its integrity. What a beautiful idea!

2. An Indian practice that you would give a perfect score... and why. Mistry Architects, Bangalore. Not only do they produce sensitive work, but they have created a rich ecosystem where young architects flourish and there is a shared sense of authorship and learning. Just being around Sharukh Mistry is inspiring, invigorating and a real life lesson.

3. An international practice that merits a perfect score... and why. Allies and Morrison, London. I am familiar with the way they work, the care they take both with designing buildings and working with each other. They have created a wonderful, civil & generous environment to produce architecture.

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