#one step closer to realizing that a certain character would fit a certain specific role..

[amelikos]

Liko talking about Lucius being her great-great-grandfather the same way she did when she mentioned being the heroine of a story.

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

prompt: Undercover

hosts: @bend-me-shape-me, @helianthus21, @pray4jensen

Dean has been undercover for many times in his life.

FBI agent, Homeland Security officer, reporter, janitor, gym teacher, lunch lady, maintenance guy, minister, private detective, and so on and so on. The list is so long that he's actually more familiar with playing a role when interacting with strangers than being himself.

So when they're on yet another case again and Sam calls him from the local library and tells him to dress up Dean doesn't even think about questioning it.

“Your fanciest clothes,” Sam orders, making it pretty clear there should be no discussion about it. “Designer suit, shiny shoes. And a shave because you're starting to look like a hobo.”

Dean barely lifts an eyebrow. “What do you need me to be? A snobby multimillionaire too good for this world.”

“The snobbiest,” Sam agrees. “It needs to look like the stench of money is following you everywhere.”

And so Dean does as he's told.

A while ago he got himself one of those super expensive Armani or whatever outfits for a case (thanks to Charlie's unlimited credit card no problem at all) and has it stashed in the depths of Baby's trunk ever since. It's only been used once so far considering fake FBI agents or journalists are rarely dressed in designer suits. At least not if they don't want to draw too much unwanted attention to them.

Dean isn't exactly sure the damned thing still fits after all that time, but after a quick shower and shave he gives it a try and finds himself pleasantly surprised when the suit still wraps itself over his body like a glove. Only around the hips it got a bit tight, but if he'd refrain from bending over it should be fine.

And it actually makes his ass look extra great, Dean has to admit. He snaps a quick picture of it and sends it to Cas because he can't help himself. Cas answers immediately with a long string of enthusiastic emojis that are both incredibly sweet, involving lots of hearts, as well as highly inappropriate and Dean loves him even more for it.

He makes a mental note to wear that suit the next time they'll be alone to see how fast the angel would be able to rip the clothes off his body and then he heads out to meet with Sam.

Soon enough he finds himself in front of a jewelry store, with his tall mountain of a brother waiting at the entrance. He is dressed in fancy clothes as well and considering he left their motel room a few hours ago just with his usual plaid attire he obviously went shopping in the meantime. The suit doesn't fit a hundred percent in some places, making it obvious this was a rather quick shopping trip with no time for a proper fitting, but it makes him nonetheless look extra posh too.

“We look good,” Dean remarks with a grin as he stops next to Sam. “Like we could buy all of the world in a heartbeat and still have a couple of millions left as pocket money.”

Sam merely huffs with a fond smile. “If you say so.”

“So what is the situation?” Dean asks, pointing at the store.

“I just got a lead that our annoying spirit might have a connection to a wristband that's on display here,” Sam tells him. “It had belonged to her before she died. And I know it's not much, but I wanna check it out anyway.”

That specific spirit had been annoying them for days now because they were unable to figure out what kept her here in the first place. So Dean will take any lead they can get, no matter how small.

“I'm actually not very optimistic,” Sam explains with a sigh. “But our ghost is showing up here in the area, so it's not a total longshot. We just need to get inside and distract the employees a little.”

“Hence the fancy clothes.” Dean nods in understanding. He highly doubts they would've even gotten past the security guard on the door in their usual jeans. Most likely even their regular FBI suits wouldn't have been good enough.

“So we just go inside and one of us pretends to be a customer while the other subtly checks out that wristband?” Dean asks nonetheless.

Sam nods. “Don't worry, I have a plan.”

Dean blinks, but has no time for further questioning since Sam's already shoving him through the gigantic front door. He's instantly greeted with lots of bling and bright lights and the absolute perfect room temperature (like seriously, did they hire a guy just to keep a close eye on that the entire time?) before getting pushed to the main counter where a blonde woman with a way too wide smile happily waits to bury her flawlessly manicured nails into those new  potential buyers.

“Welcome,” she says, her voice as melodic and perfect as the air in the store. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Well, we've got an important purchase to make,” Sam announces, sounding all kinds of pompous. “Because you see, my brother here,” he grabs Dean's shoulders and grins at him with such an intensity Dean can't help feeling wary all of a sudden, “he intends to propose to his boyfriend.”

Dean blinks rapidly.

What?

Okay, Dean certainly didn't expect that.

The woman – Marlene, as her name tag tells them – seems taken aback by that for a moment as well, but she picks herself up much quicker than Dean. Her smile increases a few thousand watt while she turns toward the groom-to-be. “This is wonderful. Congratulations!”

Dean feels a bit like he's been hit right in the face, out of nowhere.

Thankfully he is actually used to unexpected violent attacks and has learned fairly early to deal with them.

“Um … thanks,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heating up.

Marlene apparently misinterprets his awkward fumbling for adorable shyness or whatever and looks at him like she's ready to adopt him right here on the spot.

“You have to excuse him, this is still a bit much for him,” Sam leaps back into the conversation. “He's been thinking about this moment for years and I guess it might be a tad surreal that it's finally happening.”

“Really?” Marlene seems truly intrigued hearing that.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs way too dramatically, “Dean's basically been thinking about marrying Cas since the first moment they met.”

Well.

Actually his first meeting with Cas was more like Dean having a sudden realization á la, “Wow, he's hot!” and then stabbing the guy in the chest.

But Dean refrains from pointing that one out.

It might have ended in those people declaring them insane and kicking them out of the store. And though Dean is used to the first, he doesn't need the latter right now.

“Dean just wants everything to be perfect,” Sam points out, sounding exactly like a guy who is used to getting what he wants. “It's a big day.”

“It most certainly is,” Marlene agrees, dollar signs already flashing up in her eyes. “We have a vast collection of engagement rings and I'm sure we will find something to your liking.”

“Money is not the issue,” Sam says those magic words that make Marlene even more excited, so it seems. “The bigger and more extravagant, the better.”

Marlene smiles widens, appearing incredibly sweet and harmless on the surface. But Dean knows a predator focusing on its prey when he sees it.

On instinct he actually wants to take a step back and hide, but instead he gathers enough courage to meet her smile. It's still somewhat wobbly, but she probably blames it on his alleged nervousness about that big change in his life.

“Why don't you tell me a little bit about your Cas?” she prods him. “What is he like?”

Dean shoots a quick glance at his brother, cursing him for having to endure this in the first place, before clearing his throat and responding, “He's … um, awesome.”

Way to go, Winchester.

She is certainly swooning on the spot.

Dean winces inwardly and forces himself to get a little bit more into his role. After all, he is used to the undercover life, so this shouldn't be too hard.

For a minute there he even considers to lie about Cas' personality, wondering whether that would make it easier to talk about him to a total stranger, but as he's just about to come up with some made-up character traits, he hears himself saying, “Well, to be fair, he's an asshole.”

Marlene looks at him in surprise while Sam in the background rolls his eyes.

“Uh … okay?” Marlene answers, clearly not sure how to reply to that.

“Cas is grumpy,” Dean goes on, now a fond smile flickering over his features. “I'm quite certain he is the biggest grump in the history of mankind, to be honest. And he's way too sassy for his own good. Also he has no idea how to clean up after himself and he always hums those annoying jingles he heard on the radio or whatever. All day. I'm actually surprised I haven't gone mad many years ago.”

Or maybe he has.

With his life, who could tell?

“But he's also a badass,” Dean continues, registering the only other employee who's been lacking any customers at the moment sliding closer with clear interest in her eyes. “No one should dare to screw around with him. And the few that actually did regretted it pretty quickly.”

That's, of course, an understatement actually, but he won't go into much detail now. For those poor women's sanity.

“And he cares, so much,” Dean goes on, an affectionate smile settling on his face when his thoughts drift closer to Cas. It's an automatic response at this point and he's pretty sure it'll stay like that for the rest of his life. “Even about that stupid little fly that got lost into our room a couple of weeks ago. It feels like we spent hours catching that thing and releasing it back into the wild. But what could you have done, you know? Cas would've been miserable if that fly would've died inside and that's something nobody wants to see. Believe me. He looks like a kicked puppy when he's sad.”

The salesladies scoots even closer, captivated by Dean gushing over his boyfriend. While Sam subtly starts to step back a little and check out the rest of the display, trying to locate the wristband of their obnoxious ghost.

Dean clears his throat, despite still feeling like he's been thrown into icy water without any warning whatsoever by his traitorous brother more than determined to play this role like their lives depend on it. After all, there here and they might not get a second chance.

So Dean gives it all he's got.

“So yes, Cas, he's great,” he says. “He's been my best friend for such a long time now and I … I guess I want him at my side for the rest of my life. And even beyond that.”

Dean smiles at the image of sharing his Heaven with Cas one day. It might be a hassle to get there at first – after all, Cas' relationship with his brethren is still not the best –, but Dean has no doubt that it'll come true eventually. Cas is way too much of a stubborn son of a bitch to not see this through.

Dean blinks as he suddenly realizes that he is in fact beginning to fantasize about Cas by his side forever as a real possibility.

Huh.

“As mentioned, we have a vast collection of engagement rings to help you start this new chapter of your life,” Marlene says with a happy sigh. “We would be more than happy to help you with your endeavor.”

Dean stares at her for a moment.

Oh right. Rings. The case.

“Yes, right,” he mutters, a slight blush on his face now. “It … it needs to be perfect.”

Marlene and her colleague – Amanda, as her name tag tells him – immediately spur into action and for the next ten minutes Dean sees himself confronted with a huge variety of different rings in all shapes and forms. A few are actually quite simple and elegant – silver bands with a couple of nice highlights – and some are seriously so over-the-top pompous and big Dean has no idea how a normal human being should be able to wear that on their hand.

But he smiles at them all and fakes such exaggerated interest both Marlene and Amanda seem to believe they're in Heaven themselves.

And it seems like a freaking eternity until Sam pops up next to him again.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he jumps right into their enthusiastic conversation. “My girlfriend just texted me. Her doctor's appointment ended way earlier than expected and I need to pick her up.”

A blatant lie, of course, considering Eileen is back at the bunker with Cas, probably getting her ass beaten in every single board game invented by the best of all strategists Heaven has ever produced.

“But don't worry, Dean will be back shortly,” Sam promises right away as both Marlene and Amanda look rather crestfallen at those news. “After all, Dean can't wait to get married.”

They bid hasty goodbyes and are soon enough back on the streets again.

“So, any luck?” Dean asks when he's starting to remember the real reason why they went into the store in the first place.

“I found the wristband,” Sam admits. “But there's no suspicious energy to it. It's just jewelry.”

“Damn,” Dean sighs. “Well, it was worth a shot, at least.”

“Yeah …”

“And that was one hell of a cover story, Sammy,” Dean can't help pointing out for some reason.

Sam shoots him a quick glance, something intense flickering over his features.

“It wasn't though, right?” he asks in the end. “A cover story, I mean. Not really, at least.”

Dean frowns. On first instinct he wants to deny that, just wants to scoff at his brother's face and get on with his life, but then he thinks about Cas and how nice he would look with a ring on his finger and he finds himself lowering his gaze to cover up the flush on his cheeks.

“Uh … well, maybe it wasn't really a cover story after all,” he admits, his voice low, yet steady.

“So you want to go back?” Sam wonders, a smile on his lips. “ Look at those rings again? When this case is over and everything.”

Dean blinks. A few of those rings actually did look kind of awesome, if he's honest with himself. And sure, they're pretty expensive, but also very durable (an important feature in their line of work), and Dean surely didn't lie when he said that Cas only deserves the best.

So he finds himself muttering, “Yeah, I guess I wouldn't mind going back” and feels rather good about it.

Seems like Dean seriously has an important purchase to make after all.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Some Goddamn Curtains

When I was in college, I kept getting the compliment, “Wow, your room is really nice for a guy.”  I never understood what that meant for the longest time.  Then I actually paid attention to how most guys kept their dorm room. I once waited for a guy to get ready to head down to an event. I realized that I had never actually stepped foot in his room, much less even glanced inside of it. So when he stepped out and said he was ready to go, I leaned to the side over his shoulder and oh my god it was like downtown Baghdad during the worst of the Iraq War. Damn bruh, you live like this? I liked all my college roommates but the most untidiest one was in sophomore year. He left his toothbrush lying around in the open in a sock drawer, and it would end up somewhere else each night. Maybe he liked to play scavenger hunts to keep himself on his toes? He never put the DVDs back in their respective cases. I once couldn’t wait to watch Iron Man with a friend at their dorm, only to open the case once I got there and realize that my roommate had replaced it with Season 1 of Martin. He would also do this thing where he would drink a can of Coke (that I bought), not finish it, put it back in the fridge, then later open a new can of Coke that he didn’t feel like finishing, and rinse and repeat. First year roommate wasn’t that bad. Third year roommate was nearly as tidy as I was. Then in my fourth and final year I lived alone,  so my sense of the idea that “guys were messy” didn’t really hit me because I’ve only had one bad experience and chalked it up to “It was just that one guy”. I’m 31, and by now I have noticed people saying things like, “Oh my God I was actually thinking about what curtains I liked and I’m such an adult. This is what adult thinking is like. I’m adulting now.”

I hate hearing shit like that. I grew up blithely admitting liking things that an adult would “normally like”, such as curtains. The curtains thing came up in high school when I hung out at the senior lounge. The senior lounge was this bare room that looked like it was meant for old people to sit and play bingo. It was boring and dull and I hated it. It felt more lke a prison cafeteria really, with some worn out couches. I would bring my video games to that lounge, namely GoldenEye 007, to play with friends during our free period.  The room didn’t have any curtains, so at a certain time in the afternoon, the sun would beat down directly onto the screen, making it difficult to see properly. A lot of us would squint and move closer or lean forward.  I then said, “This room needs some curtains.”

A pause, and then someone replied, “Did you just say this room needs curtains?” And I was like, “Yeah. Maybe something blue. Something dark.”

And he looked at me and scoffed, and all the other guys did the same - they gave me this funny sideways glance and scoffed. I asked what the problem was, but they mostly shook their heads in disbelief. I was frankly annoyed by their response. So I said, louder, “This room needs some goddamn curtains”, because I thought it was perfectly fucking reasonable that a person would logically do something about the fucking glare from the fucking sun. Maybe they liked blinds better. Who knows? But it took me ages to fully realize two things:  1. It’s not socially acceptable for boys to be interested in style - whether it be about living spaces or clothes. I was fiercely made fun of for the clothes I wore as a kid throughout young adult life. I hated all kinds of t-shirts. I think growing up thin and gangly made me too self-aware of my arms. But I never specifically wanted to wear anything that had a band name or a company logo or even my favorite video game or movie. I would feel like a walking advertisement, and that would piss me off. I often liked ties, long-sleeved shirts, and sweaters. I never left the house in sweatpants or pajamas. I always had to comb my hair and put on a good shirt. Sweatpants were when you worked out or worked around the house fixing things.  I grew up in Catholic school, so we had uniforms. On dress down days, my classmates would come up to me and say, “Eddie, you were supposed to dress DOWN, not up” or “I can’t believe you’re wearing that on a dress down day!”.  I didn’t have a problem with people dressing how they dressed. Sure I was never into the goth thing, but I didn’t want to judge. I just wanted to dress how I wanted to dress. And maybe I was influenced in some way by how my parents dressed me up, and maybe other times I did feel embarrassed, but I knew that at the end of the day I would wear what felt most comfortable to me. Sometimes my mom would give me a sweater that was a tad too bland, so I went to the bathroom once I got to school and took it off. I would like the polo but untucked it and unbuttoned the top buttons. Half-and-half. Right idea, but lemme wear it like this instead. College was really when I started to develop my everyday style, my “main outfit”, like a video game character. I always wore some untucked button-down shirt with a tie, jeans, and sneakers. I liked it. It was this weird blend of dressing up and dressing down. People my age thought I was overdressed but my parents and people over 50 complained that I was underdressed. It was great! It feels so special to piss off both sides! My parents still remember the time I got an award at college and I went up the stage wearing that getup. You look at the picture and see the students standing side-by-side in nice dresses and dockers, and then there’s me wearing jeans and sneakers with a shirt and tie.  There always seemed to be this false dichotomy for how men should look and be - either the dapper “metrosexual” man who was slightly effeminate or the rough-and-tumble strong man who didn’t need to use an umbrella when it rained and never cared to fix his hair because that’s some “gay shit” for silly city folk. That false dichotomy is always played out in media. There’s a million buddy cop movies about the book-smart guy who is suave and sophisticated teaming up with the street-smart guy who is all muscle and manly and goes for the more practical route. Yin and Yang. Hot and cold. Good cop and bad cop. Lucky and Wild. Tango and Cash. But growing up I thought, “Why not both?” I loved watching James Bond as much as I loved watching Indiana Jones. Why couldn’t I be both if I really wanted to? It fit me best to play both roles. I AM GOING TO MIX THESE TWO THINGS AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME! I WILL BE BOTH BOOK-SMART AND STREET-SMART. I KNOW THE QUADRATIC EQUATION AND HOW TO CON SOMEONE. THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM.  The fucking worst though is being an adult now and hearing women wish they knew a guy who “dressed properly”, and men complimenting my clothes saying I look sharp.

Fuck all of you, honestly. 2. Young people are afraid to admit they like things that adults like. I grew up with extended family members living in cozy homes. I liked to admire their grandfather clocks, their decanters, their entertainment center, their offices and their chairs. I liked to wander around their houses during the holidays and poke my nose into their closets and admire old things. Maybe it’s something that an only-child might relate to the most. I wasn’t required or asked to be upstairs to attend a younger or older sibling. The adults just did their own thing and so I wandered off. Ikea always tickled my fancy as a kid. I would wander through the model rooms of offices and bedrooms and bathrooms, and I found whatever felt coziest to me and pretended that I was home. Better yet, I sometimes daydreamed that the entire Ikea facility was my home. How about that? Tired of sleeping on the bunk bed? Go to the next room to the big bed. I feel like cooking in that kitchen today, not this one. Some days I’ll feel more serious and work in the wooden office desk and other days I’ll feel silly and be in the kids room. I’ll take the whole building, please. This is where I live now. Swedish meatballs for dinner and creamy European chocolate bars for dessert every day. Young people fear being old and facing responsibilities. That doesn’t mean you liking these things makes you older. Taste and style is part of who you are, and there’s no shame if you have an interest in some bath mats or a nice decanter when you’re 20 or 17.

When I lived in my single dorm back in senior year of college, I realized that I was truly living alone for the first time. It brought some sanity to me that I didn’t know I needed. I was able to organize things how I saw fit, and hosted parties whenever I wanted. If I felt like something needed adjusting, I didn’t need to ask anybody’s permission. I really started exploring my sense of style and taste. As I grew up, I developed really specific tastes about where I would live: 1. Everything has to make sense. The placement of shelves, TVs, desks, dressers, paintings, pictures, all have to feel like they are easily viewed and accessible without needing to awkwardly turn to face them or reach them.  2. Symmetry is not always necessary but still good to fall back on when you don’t know what to do. 3. I never liked to sit with my back to the window(s) or the door. I always needed to see who or what was going to approach me or look at me.  4. TVs should never go on top of fireplaces.  5. Always have some kind of drawing room for guests to wait.  6. Never put your keys or sensitive documents in the foyer, drawing room, or wherever else strangers can easily find them the minute they walk into the house.  7. Open concept is pretentious.  8. It is far easier to cook if you have an island in the kitchen.  9. McMansions are the bane of style. Fake balconies, fake shutters, brick facades - everything about them is evil.  10. Get some goddamn curtains.

[cassercole]

Give me the director’s commentary on Q and Nat’s Wanda visions and on the part where Q and Steve have dinner with her family! And also star emoji for whatever u want to share!

Oh my god this got so long, I’m so sorry. 

ask me for the “director’s commentary” on a certain scene of one of my stories! 

Q AND NAT’S WANDA VISIONS:

So as for Q and Nat’s Wanda visions, I really wanted to dig into their pasts and their biggest fears. For Q’s specifically, I was heavily inspired by an episode of Nikita (s1ep16) where one of the main characters has some similar hallucinations but then adjusted it for Q’s arc!  

Since we haven’t gotten a real good look at her past -- just vague mentions here and there, I was trying to show how she’s both grown from it but also how it still has quite a grip on her. It’s still a big fear of hers that she’s still seen as that fucked up girl who continually makes mistakes and can’t be trusted. You see her now, in the present, as this poised and professional woman who supposedly cares about Steve/others around her, but dig a little deeper and go into that vision and you’ll find...well a monster really. Someone who only cares about herself and her own self-preservation and who is willing to do whatever is necessary to save herself. And it kinda starts to make sense as to why she left Steve the way she did and did what she did. Because yes, she believes she doesn’t deserve him/good things, and in leaving, she’s keeping in tune with that self-preservation that you see in the vision -- no matter how hard she tries to grow from it. 

And one of her biggest fears begins to stem from that: losing Steve and being at fault for it. For a long time, it was only about her. Never was she forced to take into consideration the others she was hurting. So in seeing Steve die over and over and over again, she’s forced to face the music and see how her actions killed the one person she loved. She’s not necessarily a bad person, but just has made a ton of bad decisions. Maybe one day I’ll do a ~prequel~ snippet or oneshot or something to that degree to show more of that past she’s tried so hard to run/grow from. 

Her vision was really about putting her mistakes and the consequences that come from it in focus. She was forced to see that she was acting like that girl strapped to the bed in the isolation room, and because of it, she was losing the one man who loved her despite it all. 

As for Nat’s vision, I wanted to build off of what we were already shown in AoU, but make it less about her not being able to have kids (cause.....okay Joss.... that’s not what makes her a monster). Really dig into the Red Room and some of the key players there, like Yelena. I already got into her training a few chapters prior to the vision one, so it was about honing in on that and reiterating some key things. Like the ballet sequence and how it’s used to be successful in missions or whatever. Again, like with Q, I tried to show how she had changed and grew from their pasts. 

As for the fear I wanted to bring to light, I thought it would be completely plausible for one of her fears to be that the man she loved wasn’t really the man she thought he was. To put herself out there and love Dawson how she did was something that made her so vulnerable. Like this whole time she was thinking she had escaped the Red Room and the KGB and found a man who didn’t give a shit about her past so much so that she let the walls around her drop, only for it to be revealed that he was working for the same organization she tried so hard to escape from?? GAH! 

And listen, we haven’t gotten a chance to really dive into their relationship as much as I wanted (not everyone seemed to be into it when there were mentions so I kinda put it to the side), but they have such a...dynamic that it made total sense to me to have her fear be what it was. Plus it’s always fun to write Dark!Dawson lol   

Both of these gals are so oddly similar in that they have pasts that really did define them as well as fears revolving around the people they didn’t mean to fall in love with, that it just made sense to me have their visions be somewhat the same as well.

THE FAMILY DINNER:

Oh I loved this chapter for a multitude of reasons. Right off the bat, it was a chance for me to continue to lay down the track that connected Q to Bucky (i.e. Steve noticing the similar blue eyes), then really revealing it with the box of stuff in the basement. We finally get a chance to see her family dynamic because up until then her family was rarely mentioned (sans the Frankie chapter, but that’s different). She’s kept her familial relationships so close to her chest that literally in the beginning, I had an idea to just never mention her family ever, ever until the Bucky reveal. But with the dinner, you get a chance to see where she comes from and see how her upbringing molded her. 

I wanted to show her family dynamics and where she fits into it all. She doesn’t have the best family, clearly. You get a chance to see what her parents think of her and her previous role as an agent for one of the governments most powerful branches (clearly unimpressed by it lol) She’s clearly the black sheep of the family and takes a lot of hits because of her past choices. There’s a lot of emotional abuse there tbh. And it was another way to kind of bring in her past without really diving too deep into it. 

I liked getting a chance to write semi-domestic Queve with this and I think two of my favorite moments were the ones where it was just them in the house. The moment with them on the couch and her being Soft with him, then again in her bedroom with him getting a chance to see the younger!Q. This was huge relationship step for Steve and Q which makes what happens later so much more heartbreaking (to me at least).

Also this was a great opportunity for me to have a backdoor introduction to Molly and set up her relationship with her sister -- which will be later examined more during the Civil War portion of RiM and Molly’s standalone story as well! 

⭐: BROOKLYN

For the star emoji one, I’m choosing my two favorite chapters aka the Brooklyn trip because fuck I love these chapters so much. In a way, it’s kinda the beginning of the end for them tbh haha it was a chance to push these two characters together even more so and use that thread that connected them (Brooklyn) as a way to bring them even closer. Show how much they had grown over the months together and how comfortable they had gotten with each other. (You could even say it was when they began to push themselves out of the “friendzone” without even realizing it) 

I really loved the almost mirror lives they lived in Brooklyn too like when they passed by the alleyway and Steve mentioned he got beat up there, only to have Q tell him she had beat someone up there. From chapter one alone, they’ve always had that tie to Brooklyn connecting them so it was so nice to be able to explore the separate lives they lived, at different times, but still having some similarities to them. 

Not to mention, it was a great way to get into Steve’s past more and learn about the things that were more for Steve not for Captain America. Like Coney Island or the pizza shop. 

God there were so many great moments in these chapters that I loved writing like the dance club part and the photo booth at Coney Island and the curbside tacos, MATCHING FLUFFY ROBES.....It was just such a cutesy coupla chapters and I like to think they go back to that hotel in Brooklyn for their anniversary each year okay??

And OF COURSE THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!!!!!!!!! AND THEY HAD TO SHARE ITTTTTTTT 

[akaluan]

Scholarly Savior PT 4

And now we come into the Zelda world, and have to deal with a generation of characters that maaaay or may not have names. Specifically, I named Shad’s father, I maaaay have named Zelda’s father? (I think. I forget.) Along with a fair number of other characters. I had fun with it: Shad’s father’s name here is given as “Esmond”, which breaks down into “grace” and “protection”. A naming that I felt was very appropriate given the role I have this character playing. Also mentioned is a “Potioneer Leith”, which means “wet, damp” and is also a gender-neutral name according to Behind The Name -- an important point at this point in the story because I hadn’t decided on anything about the character except that they were a potioneer and had a fiery temper.

(I attempted to mostly stick to English names that are rare or old fashioned, it was a fun challenge and I found some really cool names.)

(Also, this chunk has an awkward transition from Lily’s POV to Esmond’s, because I was writing this and suddenly realized that, really, this should be from Esmond’s POV and decided wtf-ever just switch over, I’ll edit it out later.)

It felt like time dragged on forever, though the light through the portal barely changed, before something new happened.

“Oh, my!” A voice exclaimed, startling Lily away from her contemplation of her sleeping son. “A child?”

A man hurried into view, dropping his backpack as he did, and lifted Harry up into his arms. A frown crossed the man’s face, as he spotted the blood on Harry’s forehead, and he reached into a pocket of his jacket to pull free a handkerchief. With gentle touches, the man wiped free the blood, his frown only deepening as he noted the jagged cut from which the blood had fallen.

“What sort of person would harm a child?” the man murmured softly, as he moved back to his backpack and started to rummage through it with a single hand. “I am pleased his Highness permitted my travels, little one, else I dare not consider your fate out here in the wilds.”

Lily watched as the man pulled a bottle of red liquid free of his backpack, then sat back on his heels as he carefully uncorked it and tipped a few drops out to spill over Harry’s forehead.

“Tis not the normal way of taking this,” the man continued, his voice calm and even as he corked the bottle and set it aside. “But I recall the scolding the princess’ nanny received when she fed the princess the potion. She was lucky it was only a few drops, little one, else I think Potioneer Leith would have used her for ingredients.”

With a gentle finger, the man smoothed the red potion over the wound, leaving nothing but a thin, faint line behind. Again the man brought forth his handkerchief, wiping away the excess potion and the few droplets of blood that had oozed free before the wound had been sealed.

Awoken by both the voice and the sudden absence of pain, Harry’s bright green eyes opened and he stared up at the man in curiosity for a moment, before his face started to scrunch up in preparation for a good cry.

“Ah!” the man exclaimed, as he put the bottle away quickly and held Harry close to his chest. “Shh, shh, little one. I know, you must be quite hungry. Hold on a bit longer, and I’ll get us back to Ordon.”

Suiting actions to words, the man pulled a spare belt from his backpack and pulled his jacket up, before belting it tight about the base of his ribs. He unbuttoned the top few buttons, creating a crude cradle, then tucked the baby away inside his jacket. Hopefully the warmth and his heartbeat would keep the child mostly content while he made his way back out of these ruins.

It was a pity, Esmond thought, as he glanced over the ruined temple. He was unsure of what he had found, but the triforce mark on the floor below told him it was *something* of import to their ancestors. But a child, unexpected though the little one was, took precedence over any explorations.

With that in mind, Esmond slung his backpack back in place, and made his way back through the ruins. It was a bit awkward, climbing the knotted rope with a baby tucked into his jacket, but he was still fit and healthy, so he managed it.

He untied the rope from the tree he had used to anchor it, then swiftly coiled it away into one of his pouches.

The rest of the way back was equally as eventless, to Esmond’s relief. There were enough stories and tales about these woods that he was constantly on guard, hand hovering close to his dirk and the other supporting the babe inside his crude cradle. He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he spotted Faron’s Spring and hurried his steps, now that the worst of the potential danger was past.

“You’re back!”

Esmond smiled down at the child that had spotted him and raced over the minute he reached the outskirts of Ordon Village. “Good afternoon, Rusl. I am indeed back.”

“Did you find what you wanted?” Rusl asked curiously, as he trotted at Esmond’s side. “Did you bring anything back? What do you have in your jacket?”

Esmond chuckled, reaching out with his free hand and ruffling Rusl’s hair, then said, “Slow down, child. I found something strange out there, yes, but I’m not sure what. It was a ruined building of some sort, but I didn’t have time to truly explore it. I found a child there, recently abandoned based on the injury on his forehead, and came straight back.”

“A child?” Rusl asked, his little nose scrunching up as he considered Esmond’s words. “Why would someone do that?”

Esmond shrugged, even as he reached the house he was aiming for and knocked on the door.

“Yes? Oh, Esmond!” exclaimed the woman who came to the door and opened it. She pulled the door open further and stepped back, inviting him in. “You returned sooner than expected. Did something happen? Oh — what do you have there?”

Esmond smiled in amusement, as he entered, little Rusl trailing after him like a duckling. “Thank you, Lula. Could I bother you for a baby bottle? I found this little tyke out in the woods, and I think he’s a mite hungry.”

Esmond pulled the babe free of his jacket, and carefully showed the child to Lula. The boy was beginning to squirm, his face scrunching up in frustration, and Esmond knew from the times he saw the little Princess that the boy was well on his way to a powerful screaming fit. That he hadn’t already done so was a miracle, as far as Esmond was concerned, and he would rather prevent it if at all possible.

“Oh, my! Of course, just a moment,” Lula said, as she bustled off to the corner where the kitchen was. “Have a seat, Esmond, I’ll be just a moment. Rusl, could you go run up to the ranch and ask Omar for another bottle of milk?”

“Yes ma!” Rusl yelled, as he bolted out of the house and away.

“Did I put you out? I’m sorry,” Esmond said, as he sat down and slowly rocked the babe in an effort to sooth him.

“None of that, now,” Lula chided him, as she came back and offered him a bottle. “Little Link is a hungry boy, that’s all. He likes his milk more than most other foods, that’s for certain.”

Esmond accepted the bottle and awkwardly positioned the child, helped by Lula’s gentle corrections, before offering it to boy. The child quickly latched onto the nipple and began to suckle, expression soothing out into contentment as he did.

“He looks about old enough to be eating solid food,” Lula said, as she pulled a stool closer and watched the two of them thoughtfully. “I saw some teeth, for certain, so if he hasn’t already been weened you should think about introducing him to softer foods.”

He wanted to protest Lula’s assertion that *he* would be caring for this child — after all, he was unmarried and served the King, on top of his research. How would he fit raising a child in amongst such duties? He had seen the difficulties the Princess’ nanny had, and that was with the King spending some of his evenings with the child.

But his protests died in his throat when the boy opened those brilliant green eyes again and looked up at him. With a sigh, Esmond accepted his fate. Clearly, he’d be asking the King for a reduction in his duties, and there were plenty of dusty books tucked away in the Royal Library that he hadn’t yet read through. He could focus on those instead of on hunting down physical evidence during his brief vacations, at least until the boy was old enough to come along safely.

“I will, thank you,” Esmond told Lula, as he took the now empty bottle from the boy and offered it back to her.

The boy started to squirm, and Esmond tugged the wrapped blanket away, until the child was free of restriction. After a glance at Lula to be sure it was okay, Esmond allowed the curious boy to slide off his lap and start crawling around the house, investigating his surroundings.

Lula laughed, as she watched the boy pull himself upright with the help of a stool and start tottering around, using his new height to investigate things that were previously out of sight.

“He sure is an active one,” she said, as she came back from dropping the bottle in a pail of cleaning potion to soak. “You found him out in the forest, you said?”

“Yes, in a ruined building deep in the forest,” Esmond confirmed, as he reached a hand out and steadied the boy before he could fall.

“I wonder who would do such a thing,” Lula mused. “I’m surprised he didn’t just wander off, with how well he’s walking already.”

“He was asleep and wrapped in this blanket,” Esmond said, as he straightened out the blanket that he had unwrapped from around the boy. He examined it, wondering if there were any clues as to the boy’s heritage on it, but found little. The material was very soft, with a fine, even weave that Esmond had to marvel at. Clearly, the child was born of either an exceptionally talented weaver, or was born into a royal household.

There was a set of three symbols embroidered into one corner of the blanket, and Esmond frowned, raising the blanket closer to his face and pulling out his reading glasses to examine them closer. But they didn’t resolve into anything he knew, no matter which way he turned the blanket.

“Something wrong?” Lula asked.

Esmond shook his head. “No, I’ve just never come across writing like this before. Have you?”

He offered the blanket to her, and watched as she looked it over from all sides. Eventually, she shook her head and handed it back to him. “I’ve never seen the like. It’s very fluid, perhaps some form of Zora writing?”

“If it is, I’ve never seen the like before,” Esmond admitted, as he carefully folded the blanket up and tucked it away in one of his pouches. “I had thought myself conversant in most languages, but… well. Perhaps I missed something.”

“Or maybe it’s just pretty designs,” Lula pointed out, a smile on her face. “Not everything needs to be such a mystery as you make out.”

Esmond snorted and waved a hand at her. “Fie, woman. Away with your logic.”

Lula’s bright laughter was interrupted as the door slammed open and Rusl darted in, a bottle clutched tight to his chest as he raced into the room and to his mother.

“Here, ma! I got it!” Rusl proclaimed proudly, as he presented the full bottle to his mother, both hands gripping the bottle tightly.

“Oh, well done my little man!” Lula replied, as she plucked the bottle from Rusl and scooped the child up for a brief hug, before she moved to put the bottle of milk away.

The child, however, began to wail, having fallen down after being startled by Rusl’s abrupt entrance. Lula hurried to put the bottle away and then scooped the boy up in her arms, bouncing and cooing at him before Esmond could even move from his seat.

Rusl’s nose wrinkled, as he stared up at the child in his mother’s arms. “He’s a lot louder than Link.”

“And so were you,” Lula replied, as the boy slowly settled down. “Praise the Goddesses Link is such a calm child, I don’t know how I’d survive through *two* of you!”

“Are we keeping him, ma?” Rusl asked, as he moved to his mother’s side the moment she sat down. He reached out with a hand and gently poked the child’s cheek with a finger. “Hey! He’s got pointy ears like Link does!”

Lula laughed. “No, we’re not keeping him. Esmond is going to take him in, so he’ll be going back to Castle Town when Esmond leaves.”

“Oh,” Rusl responded, nonplussed, as he glanced between his mother and Esmond. “What’s his name?”

Esmond blinked, only then realizing that, no, he had no idea what the boy’s name actually was. A frown crossed his face, as he looked at the boy he was going to take in, names running through his mind. Lula’s expectant look in his direction let him know she was expecting him to name the child.

“Shad,” Esmond said slowly, trying the name out.

Lula’s smile brightened, as she looked down at the boy who was bouncing on her knee, “A good name, I think. What do you think, Shad?”

The boy’s cheerful giggle was his only response.

[jessicalinmasteryfullsail]

Infinite Blaster

Self-PostMortem

For this class, the challenge was provided in two different aspects, the technical and production sides. In the technical challenges for this month it was pretty difficult to find a consistent art style for the UI that suited all the different levels. Having a game with a wide variety of environments so different from one another provided, made finding a color scheme and button layout and design that fitted all of them proved to be very difficult. It also presented the additional challenge of having to design the UI flow chart so that the menu navigation made sense. After the UI was designed with the layout and mapping I started to work on the environments, the temporary ones we had in place were definitely not good enough for the final build so I built them from scratch. This one I had a lot of fun with since it was one of the first times doing so I enjoyed the learning opportunity if provided, now I understand the different challenges that different artists can have in the development of a game.

     Now the production side of things, keeping documentation of every task I did made me realize the difficulties that sometimes producers have with the talent. Keeping track of my hours and doing the burnup and worklogs was easy by itself but I did see great value on keeping everything updated since it allowed for closer control on the activities for every milestone. It kept everything organized and efficient. I had the habit of having to do my workload pretty quickly so my hours seemed to be a lot less that some of my colleagues. Nonetheless I still did the same amount if not more work because of the efficiency of my time management. Talking to the class producer he was debating if he should add more work to my plate since I did mine so quickly. We talked for a while and we established that it could be unfair for me that I had additional work added to my plate. I still insisted that I will help my classmates with their workload so we can deliver a good final product.

    Here is where my understanding of passion comes. I am passionate about what I am doing and working to have a good game is important to me. So I worked hard and it was because of that passion that I also wanted to help my classmates with their work. It didn’t bother me at all, but having it pushed on me because I worked faster was a concern I had. It made me understand why liking what you are doing is so important in this industry, if you don’t like it then the quality of your work is going to be bad and you will do the bare minimum and in gaming doing the bare minimum is not good enough.

Team-PostMortem

            Before we had stepped into Asset Management, the group was dealt with a challenge. Our capacity had two less people than Prototyping and Content Creation. This became an opportunity for the group as multiple people got more fluid roles in the project. We had a producer cover audio, an art lead also cover design, and two artists who got to try their hands at both character art and prop art. Immediately the group became more well-rounded thus.

Learning from our mistakes two months ago, we immediately knew we needed an art lead. This allowed us to agree to a certain design that would not confuse the art team as we did when we made Little Cupid. The art lead provided references for all art which, unfortunately, was not followed. Some on the art team had their own vision and did not consider the art lead’s thought process as to why he chose the references he did. This caused frustration amongst the team as the lead kept sending assets back. As the project went on the producer had to sit down with those artists not following the references to explain why the assets were getting rejected and an understanding was reached. The art lead had those references picked out to not only assist the artists but to fit the theme of the game.

The group decided to take an asset pack from the Unity store and re-skin it. The reason this strategy was chosen was because there was no developer on the team. One student took on the role with little experience and experimented with adding another tool to his toolbelt. His role involved a high amount of art asset integration as we were just replacing objects already in the asset pack. This became problematic as we had a missed milestone by one of the artists. Time management and outside distractions became an issue causing low quality models to be pushed out which in turn got rejected. That artist learned from his mistakes and managed his time between classwork and capstone very well for the remainder of the project. Even allowing for models to be redone from the original missed milestone. Models that were turned in after the milestones were greatly improved thanks to a detailed presentation the art lead made up for the artists.

As the project moved along we began to get into a rhythm thanks to the group defining the game right from the start – an infinite shooter that was very content rich. Members of the group began to see the end project and enjoyed playing the game in their spare time. The group had a bit of an issue with the quality assurance testing. The testing plan was not specific enough and multiple iterations needed to be made as the project moved along. Builds did not get out on time before presentation day which caused incomplete testing results to be present in front of the investor. Sloppy testing was also present as the quality test plan was sometimes filled out in a copy paste fashion instead of typing out the results one-by-one. The group remedied the situation by creating a log in which people could sign out the test plan and sign it back in when they were done. Multiple copies of the plan were made so that information would not be overwritten.

The final challenge we faced involved most the group padding their estimates causing the producer to have to timebox the estimates. Our original estimate was over double the actual capacity for the project! The timeboxing became time intensive but it became clear that even with timeboxing the assets were being completed with a negative delta. This caused an issue where we did not have enough planned for the game on the UI side. The group had to scramble to get work for her to do as her hour count was very low. She helped by redesigning a couple of stage environments, as well as contributing in quality assurance testing for the group.

All in all, the project had some rocky moments but flowed a lot better than it did two months ago. The issues we dealt with were mostly minor which had easy fixes. The group felt as if they gained a ton of knowledge from the experience and can use that information in the future.

 Individual Contribution