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thisisthepartwhereyou · 5 years ago

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BEASTARS MINI-STORY #4: “A Different kind of Charity pt. 3” by JCL

--- OGUMA: "Well?" Juno blinks, but remains composed despite this unexpected development. JUNO: "Yes, yes I am. I am Juno." OGUMA: "I am sorry, I forgot introductions. I am Oguma." He then glances at Shigure. OGUMA: "And this is my assistant, Shigure." Shigure gives a curt bow without saying anything. Juno gives her a nod. OGUMA: "Are you enjoying your evening so far?" JUNO: "Well I just got here, but I have to say it is really quite something. How about you?" OGUMA: "It is as it always is." Juno discreetly examines Oguma. JUNO: "..." (Louis said he was adopted, but they have a similar feel to them) One thing in particular that she takes notice of is his eyes, which has her fixed with a sharp and unreadable expression. JUNO: (Their eyes and their tone of voice... It's like they're perceiving you from atop a great height) OGUMA: "Forgive me for being direct, but I need to ask you something: Are you the person that my son meets with twice a month?" We can see that this catches Juno a bit off her guard. JUNO: "Yes... Louis wants to keep tabs on the school and the progression of the club in his absence, so I keep him updated." OGUMA: "Is that all you do?" Juno thinks back to what Louis said to her earlier: 'You're here as my platonic friend.' JUNO: "That is mostly what we talk about when we meet." OGUMA: "Mostly?" Juno looks a little uncomfortable, thinking back to the moment when she held Louis hand and flirted with him. Oguma's hard stare does not help the situation. JUNO: "Yes." (What is this, an interrogation?) "Usually over some tea and something to eat... He has not mentioned any of this?" OGUMA: "He has, though usually without much detail. He never mentioned that you were female for instance." Juno looks down, trying to hide her growing anxiety. JUNO: (Or the fact that I was a wolf I bet) "I guess he didn't view it as an important detail." Oguma examines Juno. OGUMA: "Oh, I think he does." JUNO: "Well I... I..." (How the hell do I even respond to that?!) It is then that Louis comes into frame and joins Juno. He greets his father and his assistant. LOUIS: "Father. Shigeru." Juno looks relieved beyond words. JUNO: (Oh thank God!) Shigeru nods at Louis and Oguma greets his adoptive son. OGUMA: "Louis." Oguma examines Louis suit. OGUMA: "A red shirt huh? I never would have guessed that it was such a complimentary color on you." LOUIS: "Well, I wanted to match my company somewhat." He refers to the see-through shoal draped around Juno's shoulders, which has a shade of red. Oguma nods. OGUMA: "I see." Nobody says anything for a few seconds. Both Juno and Shigeru feel the weight of the awkward atmosphere. JUNO & SHIGERU: (Uncomfortable!) OGUMA: "I need to greet some old associates. I hope to see you again later." LOUIS: "Same here." Oguma turns to Juno, giving her a curt little bow. OGUMA: "It was a pleasure to meet you Juno." JUNO: "The feeling is mutual, sir..." Oguma then proceeds to walk away together with Shigeru. Louis sits down in his seat and leans over to talk to Juno. LOUIS: "Did he scare you?" --- Once they're out of hearing range, Oguma talks to Shigeru. OGUMA: "Shigeru, find out all you can about that young lady. Her background, her activities at school, the circles she hangs around in. Anything that'll paint up a clear image of her character and her precise relationship with my son." Shigeru adjusts her glasses. We can see a great determination burning in her eyes. SHIGERU: "As you wish, sir." She proceeds to pick up her tablet, apparently starting with her search righ away. Oguma closes his eyes and looks a little self-conscious. OGUMA: (I hate to dig around in Louis private life, but if I had been more concerned about his activites at school, or at least more involved as a parent, he might have still had both of his legs) He looks back in Louis and Juno's direction. OGUMA: (What I don't understand is, having lost a leg to them, why does he always surround himself with carnivores?) We zoom in and see that Juno is talking to Louis about something. Louis smiles a reserved but completely genuine smile. OGUMA: (He said that he sacrificed his leg to help his classmate, a wolf. Now he is together with another. A young, well-mannered and attractive wolf of the opposite sex at that) Staring at them over his shoulder, his eye narrows a bit. OGUMA: "..." (Could she be the reason?) --- We skip ahead a bit. Louis and Juno has gotten their ordered meals by now. JUNO: "I mean he was perfectly civil, but it felt like he was staring into my soul or something." Louis gives off a little laugh as he picks up some salad and feta with his fork. LOUIS: "Yeah, I know all about that. When I was younger I was afraid of misbehaving, cause it felt like if I had done something bad, he would know about it, just by looking at me." Juno smiles at this. JUNO: "My big brother Hector is like that too. He can be downright terrifying if he thinks that you're up to no good." Louis look a bit surprised. LOUIS: "You have a brother?" JUNO: "Three of them actually. Though they're actually my half-brothers, from my mom's previous marriages." Louis nods at this with some thought. LOUIS: (Marriages? As in plural?) "Doesn't it get pretty rowdy with so many siblings?" JUNO: "Oh like you wouldn't believe! Though they're good boys whenever they try. Overprotective as hell though. I tell you, if they knew where I was right now anyway, they'd probably hunt us both down." Louis looks like he understands this; the confirmation that at least Juno's family has a normal degree of intolerance in regards to herbivore/carnivore-relationships. LOUIS: "They wouldn't approve of you having dinner with a herbivore?" Juno picks up her knife and fork with an annoyed look, thinking about her brothers. JUNO: "Knowing them they wouldn't approve of me going out with any guy, no matter the kind of vore. I'm the youngest, so they always baby me. They probably think I'm too immature to date." She then takes a bite from her omelette, at which her face suddenly turns into cartoonish deligth with stars for eyes and her tail wagging intensily. JUNO: "THIS IS SO DELICIOUS! OH MY GOD!" Louis sweatdrops at Juno's overly excited expression. LOUIS: "What about your parents?" The mention of her parents seem to quell Juno's excitement a bit. JUNO: "If my mom knew that I was in love with a herbivore, she'd probably have a fit. She's the biggest worrywart." She takes a sip from her orangejuice. JUNO: "I don't really know my dad. He left when I was like five. From what I've been told he wasn't exactly father-material." This prompts a curious look from Louis. LOUIS: (Quite a tumultous family history... Is that why she was sorted into the drama club?) Louis thinks back to the other members of the club, which has all been selected and drafted for the drama club on account of their troubled backgrounds. --- We see a group-image of all the members with cracks over it, as if seen through a broken window. LOUIS: (No, that couldn't be it. Having a mother that has been married a few times and a couple of halfbrothers sounds pretty mundane compared to the history of the rest of the clubmembers. Though what could it be?) --- Going back to the present, Louis continues to stare at her, curious but reserved. LOUIS: (I want to know, but I can't ask her, in case it is very personal) Juno then puts her glass down. She now looks down with sad eyes. JUNO: "I don't like lying to them though, even if it is to spend time with you. It makes me feel like I'm sneaking around." LOUIS: "... You lied about where you were going tonight?" JUNO: "Uh-huh." LOUIS: "If they don't know that you're out here, where do they think you are?" Juno looks up. JUNO: "I told them that I was going with the rest of the dramaclub to Shima over the weekend. Bill is taking the guys out there to his uncle's beach house. I was planning to join up with them tomorrow." Louis blinks at this. LOUIS: "Why is he taking you out to Shima?" JUNO: "Because it's been a tough time lately. It hasn't been easy with the club getting suspended, and all the pressure that is now on us to keep it going." --- JUNO: "The herbivore members are picked on for intermingling with carnivores, and carnivores are picked on for intermingling with herbivores." We see a flashback of the all-herbivore basketball team picking a fight with the members of the dramaclub. Bill is held back by Aoba and Pina as he wants to fight with the smug-looking team captain, while a scared-looking Els looks on. --- We ten return to the present with Juno and Louis. JUNO: "Not even the teachers seem to have our backs. It's more like they see us as the troblemakers. Bill just figured that we could use some time away together. You know, just hang out and not feel like a bunch of freaks for a while." This makes Louis look a bit thoughtful. LOUIS: "I never did anything like that back when I was the president... Then again, Bill has different sensibilites than me." JUNO: "You wouldn't like to come too?" This makes Louis nearly choke on a cherry tomato. He looks at Juno, who gives him a hopeful look. He then closes his eyes and takes another bite from his salad. LOUIS: "I don't think me being around would change much." JUNO: "Oh don't say that. Everyone misses you." Juno gives his hand a playful poke with her finger and blinks at him. JUNO: "Especially the girls." Louis clears his throath and looks away. LOUIS: "It wouldn't feel right." Juno looks a little surprised by his odd reluctance. She takes her glass up for another sip. JUNO: "Why not? It's just old friends." LOUIS: "That is the issue though. Back when I was president, I looked out for them, did everything that I thougt was right for the club and the school." Louis puts down his fork and crosses his hands. He looks down with a dark look. LOUIS: "But truthfully, it wasn't because it was the right thing to do, or because I really cared about them." Juno looks shocked at this and lowers her glass. LOUIS: "All I cared about was myself and becoming the next Beastar. Every little speech I made, every performance and all the concern I showed, at it's core, wasn't out of the goodness of my heart. It was all about asserting myself, standing out and getting the support I needed." Louis looks down, a joyless smile forming on his lips. LOUIS: "See... In a sense, I was no different from most of the people here: doing good things for the self-serving reasons. I don't really deserve to call any of them my friends. To be honest... My kindness back then was just charity." *CRACK!* Louis looks up in surprise. We see that Juno's glass has been broken in her hand, with juice and shards spilling down on the table. Tears have formed in the corners of her eyes. JUNO: "You're horrible..." Juno the pulls her hand back, realizing that she is hurt. JUNO: "Ow! My hand!" Blood trickles from inside her palm and drips onto the table. Louis swiftly gets up and walks over to Juno's side with a concerned look. LOUIS: "Are you alright?" Juno grimaces in pain and holds her hand. JUNO: "It hurts...!" LOUIS: "Let me have a look." Louis takes her hand, opens it gently and takes a look. LOUIS: "There is glass imbedded in your hand." He grabs a napkin from the table and wraps it over her hand a well as he can. LOUIS: "The kitchen staff always have bandages. Let's go." Juno gets up though and glares Louis straight in the eye. JUNO: "I can take care of it on my own." Juno walks off while holding her hand, leaving a stunned-looking Louis behind. JUNO: "I don't need any of your charity." As she walks away, we can see that she and Louis are receiving a few stares from others in the restuarant section. ???: "Well that was dramatic." --- We then see that the unknown voice is coming from DUMAS (Peacock, male, 23 years old, black suit, foppish), who is sitting at a table a few meters away, opposite Georgette. Apparently he is her ´idiot-date´. Georgette has a glass of Chardonnay in her hand, while Dumas is eating from a plate with vegetarian spring rolls. The two are among those staring at the little spectacle that just occured. DUMAS: "Though I guess one should expect as much. I mean dogs and the like are quite emotional, not to mention lacking when it comes to a gentle touch. I bet even the females have hands like plyers. I can't for the life of me understand why anyone would want to bring any of them as company." Georgette seems to ignore Dumas ignorant ramblings, taking a note of Louis regretful expression as he grabs Juno's veil, which she has left on her chair. DUMAS: "I mean if they're here and not carrying a plate, then what is the point?" Georgette continues to stare at them with a sharp look, but also with a hint of intrigue. TO BE CONTINUED...! ---

#beastars #juno x louis #ship #romance #fanfiction #script style #grey wolf #red deer #anthropomorphic #a different kind of charity #jcl #mini story

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cskiner · 6 years ago

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Floyetta

A few months ago, my mother texted me while I was at work—pray for your grandmother, she said. To an outside audience, this would seem a vague and ominous phrase, but to me it was not. My grandmother was not a nice woman. She was rude to my mother and worse to my father, who was her second of two sons. Perhaps she blamed him for her divorce from my grandfather when my father and his brother were very young; more likely, she decided my ten-year-old uncle would be the new patriarch, and wrapped in her own tragedy, could only thinly love one man and bestow guilt upon the other. My mother avoided her as often as she could. My uncle’s wife only referred to her as “the mother,” the corners of her lips curling downward in distaste when the phrase had to be uttered. My grandmother was not a nice woman.

The text message, my mother showing any level of compassion for her mother-in-law, meant that my grandmother might die.

I took the call at work, stepping out for the fifteen I never used. I did not like my grandmother, but that does not mean that I did not love her. My dad told me on the phone that she had fallen at home and broken her hip, and that during hip surgery her heart stopped. She was resuscitated, but lost several liters of blood and broke a rib in the process. Plus, her hip was still broken, but she was much too weak to undergo a second surgery tonight. They would have to try again in a few days.

My parents were living in New Zealand. My aunt and uncle were vacationing in Maui. My cousins that had not recently been alienated by my grandmother’s biting insults were busy holding down their father’s business. My older brother lived in the Bay Area and had just started a new job that he could spare little time from, and I, in Los Angeles, was the closest to my grandmother’s hospital in San Diego. I hated this hospital. My other grandmother, my beloved Lola, had died there a few years ago from an unexpected brain bleed, and my family had slept in the waiting room for days before her heart stopped. I wanted to throw up, but Fridays at work were thirteen-hour shifts, and I was only nine hours in.

My dad called me during hour twelve for an update: grandma was stable for the night. I told my bitch of a boss that I might have to take the weekend off, attempting an appeal to sympathy with an excuse I once promised myself I would never use: “my grandmother is dying.” She made me stay late at work that night.

I downed more whiskey, neat, than usual at my boyfriend’s house that night while crying into his arms. Not for my grandmother—for myself, for the unfair circumstances that had thrust me into adulthood sooner than I wanted. We packed overnight bags and were on the road early the next morning. Will distracted me on the drive down with stories of his grandmother to counter my own—she moved in with his family when he was a teenager and brought her own elderly chaos to the household. I explained a little more about grandma to give him context about her self-pity.

My grandmother was named Floyetta. Not because my great-grandparents liked the name, no—because her father had wanted a boy to name after himself, a Floyd II. Having a girl instead apparently wasn’t reason enough to look through the baby book for a different name. Her mother, Frances, who I knew until she died at age 99, was a frivolous and inexplicably happy woman. She loved everything pink, wore only muumuus, ate only fine steaks and sugary sweets, and let her poodle sit in a high chair at the dinner table. Her love for this poodle was so strong that when her husband died of liver failure (alcoholism was the true culprit), she drafted a will, expecting that she wouldn’t live much longer. The will left almost everything to her poodle, rather than her daughter, a struggling single mother. When Frances did live for twenty more years, my grandmother moved her in and took care of her day in and day out, feeding her by hand when she lost her teeth. Telling her story, I began to remember why my grandmother was not a nice woman.[Office1]

I remembered insults she had spat at my cousin, Andrea, about Andrea’s mother being at fault for her father’s infidelity. I remembered hearing that she tried to get out of my dad’s car while he was driving her home on the freeway, and he had to lock the doors so that she couldn’t tumble out. I remembered that she threw a fit when I was eight because when she vaguely implied dehydration, I brought her too much water. That she “accidentally” called and admonished me for forgetting to call her during finals week at college. That my mother refused to tell me why she almost never came with us to visit my grandmother: I was too young to hear. But she was family. I was her only available support system. It was an obligation, rather than a favor—she had not exactly been our family’s ‘rock,’ but I went anyway.

When we reached the hospital, I braced myself, but not enough. In her hospital gown and twenty pounds lighter than when I last saw her, grandma looked like Frances had right before she died. The resemblance shocked me back into my twelve-year old body, visiting my withering great grandmother Frances at the hospital and following the nurse’s instructions to douse my forearms in hand sanitizer. Dismal beeps from heart monitors echoed down the hallways and I counted the tiles on the floor to avoid glimpsing other sick patients. The hospital smelled like sterile death and I wanted to get out.

Will steadied me, holding my hand with an iron grip he had never deployed before. I tried to feed grandma her pain medication, crushed into a few tablespoons of vanilla yogurt. She refused after one spoonful (one was impressive, really—she’s not known for cooperating) and we switched back to the tiny sponge soaked in apple juice. It was clear that she was not faking the pain the way she used to. I was disarmed. Grandma’s refusal to do anything productive had always made me angry, indignant at the very least. Now, it just made me sad.

Will found the nurse and asked her if they could increase the pain medication or try a different kind while I held back tears in the corner, fighting the urge to bolt. He knew all the specific terms, all the alternatives to suggest. He was authoritative but not rude to the nurse and asked the doctor all the questions I had forgotten.

Will had not met my grandmother before this, and I had told him very little about her in the last year that we had been together. I knew family was important to him, but he was not the first man I’d heard that from. My last boyfriend broke up with me because his mother told him to—the wrong kind of “family was important to him.” Will, on the other hand, had voluntarily become my miserable grandmother’s healthcare advocate because the look on my face was telling him, I want to, but I can’t, and somehow he understood.

After a few hours, grandma fell asleep. I sat with her awhile, squeezing her hand when she woke up. Once, she woke up and couldn’t see me; I was on a bench by the window rather than the chair by her bedside.

“Where is my granddaughter?!” she mustered the loudest voice she would use all day, panicked. I rushed to her side and waited until she fell asleep again.

She really loves you, Will mouthed. I know, I responded through tears. I remembered that when she could drive, she did not miss a single one of my dance performances. Last spring, she showed me pictures that she took on her digital camera when I got my first pair of pointe shoes at age ten and refused to take them off, walking them around the house until I had blisters.

Grandma’s grandchildren were the closest thing she had to pride and joy, if she had any. She boasted our accomplishments to anyone who would listen, although in a way that made us feel a little more like circus animals rather than precious grandbabies. A portrait she sketched of my brother around age twelve is still framed in my parents’ house. Grandma spent months on it, trying to get his nose just right. Her artwork was beautifully meticulous, detailed beyond necessity, and realistic in a way that made me wonder why her own reality was so skewed—but it never left her bedroom. She had a habit of mastering things that never turned into practical skills. She told me last year that she finished law school after her divorce, but never took the bar exam. She didn’t have an explanation as to why—or if she did, she wouldn’t tell me.

Grandma fell asleep again during her second very slow blood transfusion, and an old friend came in to watch her for the evening, promising to send us updates. Will stood beside me as I looked at grandma one more time, thinking it very well may be the last, and steadied my shaking hand again to lead me out of the hospital. When my parents flew home to visit grandma a week later, my mother noted that when grandma recounted my visit, she remembered Will vividly, but forgot Andrea’s boyfriend of five years.

Leaving the hospital, Will and I realized we had not eaten anything all day. Dinnertime was quickly approaching, and in my hunger and shock I had fixated on one option: a sandwich shop called Cheese Shop in La Jolla. My parents had taken my brother and me to Cheese Shop every summer when I was a child—they had both grown up in the San Diego area, and La Jolla was about in between their families’ homes. Every summer until we could no longer afford it, we stayed a week at a hotel on the La Jolla Shores, from which Cheese Shop was only a three-minute walk down the beachfront. The taste of deli sandwiches permeates these memories strongly: I would always throw out the pickle and revel in the extra four slices of cheese that I was never allowed at home.

My father would take me with him to the deli for eccentric root beer bottles, turkey avocado club sandwiches, and the best oatmeal cookie that the world has ever seen. We wandered through the selection of European chocolates and came home with more sweets than sandwiches, and one summer I drank myself sick on vanilla cream sodas. Surfers in their towels tracked in sand so that we could smell the ocean in the sandwich shop. We lugged our haul back onto the beach, where I demolished my sandwich and then plunged right back into the waves for a stomachache.[Office2]

Will and I plugged Cheese Shop into the navigation system, and even though it was almost an hour away, my mind was blank for food alternatives anywhere nearer. He asked no questions.

My father and I bonded over our obsession with Cheese Shop sandwiches, a bond that I rarely felt we had despite our very similar dispositions. I couldn’t help but think it would be strange to visit the deli without him, but I felt a strange sort of compulsion to go, and an even stronger compulsion to show Will this landmark of my childhood. Though we had only been together about a year, I felt this way about him often, as though I could share everything good and never lose ownership of my secrets. He displayed a very similar compulsion when we visited his hometown last month, showing me all his hidden passageways and the boy scout summer camp he loved so dearly.

Arriving at the little shop on the beach, I exhaled for the first time since leaving the hospital. Will humored me by raving about his pastrami sandwich and buying extra oatmeal cookies for our drive home. I knew he could sense that this visit had thrown me more than I wanted it to—his hand rested over mine the entire meal. Warm physical contact does wonders for comfort.

Parents at the table next to us were having trouble controlling their toddler son: he was a bit possessive over his mother’s phone, on which he was playing a game or watching a video or something else with obnoxious sound effects. Will and I looked at each other knowingly, and on our walk down the street we discussed. I loved talking about children with him—it was a recent development that let me know he was on the same page in regards to our future. In the last few months, we had tentatively transitioned from saying “when I raise my kids” to “when we raise ours.” The idea that a family could be made from this, from someone I chose to love and that loved me, became overwhelming. I had always been taught that family was an obligatory acceptance, one that I would have to excuse flaws for. Family was not an easy love. Yet here in front of me was this lovely being who loved me back, who I could decide to build a life with. And I loved him for his flaws, not despite them. The easiest love I had and have ever known.

We walked down the beach, arm in arm. I had forgotten to account for summer gloom, so Will donated his sweater and I disappeared inside it. We settled in a little nook to watch the waves crash, on the beach that had occupied my childhood. Musing about our future and watching children play in the waves, I fell asleep in his lap and dreamed of days, months, years ahead.

---

csk

10/2019

to all my beautiful readers: sorry I haven’t posted in so long, and I know this one was a lot to get through! I’ve been doing a little more narrative and a little less poetry lately, but I’m especially proud of this one so I thought I’d post it. more poetry to come next semester, I hope!

#love #mywriting

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bffhhoneymoon · 6 years ago

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Entry 38

After one birthday, another came. Then another. I was staying busy as ever with my business, though Alma and I made plenty of time for sightseeing as well. Aaliyah made sure we managed to see our daughter whenever she was free without seeing each of her vacations back-to-back from our perspective. Unfortunately for us, our daughter would occasionally want to go vacationing with her friends and their families. As much as we preferred having our daughter to ourselves, we decided to follow suit and invite her friends along on a vacation.

Sadly, my natural magic became troublesome as the girls grew older. Dani sat Alma and me down to talk at one point, explaining to us that I was far too distracting for her friends. The girls would apparently want to talk about me constantly after spending time with us. Alma had laughed and agreed that I was distracting, but I felt frustrated. Aaliyah wasn’t any help with that dilemma, giggling and welcoming me to fatherhood as if the past years of my daughter’s life were just the precursor. Perhaps they were.

“Boss-man, sir, that frown is far too heavy for your face. You need to lighten up. Dani still loves spending time with you. How much time did your friends really hang out with your family?” she questioned, having appeared next to me in the suite.

Not much, excluding Jarod, but Aaliyah knew even better than I did.

“Even Jarod spent more time playing video games with you than doing stuff with your parents. You know it’s true.”

“Fine. Yes, but I don’t have to like it.” I told her, unwilling to look for a bright note at the moment.

“Yep. You need to stop home for a bit. I’ll grab Alma!” exclaimed Aaliyah, seeming to pull my wife from her pocket as she had with her aunt on occasion.

How many years have we been away? Part of me was in strict denial, not wanting to admit that I could be in my late twenties, possibly older.

“James..? What’s wrong?” questioned Alma as if popping out a pocket far smaller than her body was normal.

I knew she could relate, but Alma didn’t like talking about how we didn’t see Dani enough. She’d entertain herself with crafts similar to my mother and seem to disconnect from her troubles for a time.

“The boss-man is being moody, so we’re going to take a short trip home! Let’s just kill you first.” stated Aaliyah with a grin.

My spirit was ripped from my body before I could even consider protesting. Watching my body hit the floor, I sighed.

“Oh, James. Is dying really that bad?” questioned Alma, her spirit smirking at me.

This wasn’t precisely a first for us, probably not even a tenth. I understood better these days why Aaliyah had no qualms about killing. She could alter one’s state easier than I could flip a light switch.

“Wow. You make dealing with spirits sound tough, boss-man, sir.” stated Aaliyah, an image of her seeming to be peering into my head.

I knew she was all around us. In this state, Alma and I could feel her there. I stared around, realizing we had moved. How long have we been away..?

“One day by their reckoning.” replied Aaliyah with a grin.

Raine was suddenly in front of me, seeming to stare into my eyes.

“Oops. Totally forgot the anti-Raine-filter.” claimed Aaliyah before snapping her fingers. “Powerful demons can sense spirits in a vague sense due to being quasi-spirits themselves. She felt something and investigated. Isn’t she such a good girl?”

As I watched, Raine looked around, seeming confused as she blinked from one spot to another as if searching for something.

“Does that mean she’s aware of Regina?” I questioned, wondering if I should have talked to Raine.

Nodding and smiling, Aaliyah said, “Sure, in a very ill-defined sense. Raine’s attached to her skin and has barely, barely ever touched her power, so her senses are a bit dull compared to what they could be. Don’t worry. We’ll get her there eventually.”

“How strong is she?” questioned Alma.

“Before I killed her father, she was the third strongest of her kind. Now she’s second! The first will die fighting Lilly’s mother, so then Raine gets her promotion.” replied Aaliyah.

“Yes-yes. I remember that she’s eventually the strongest, but what could she do?” pursued my wife.

Aaliyah shrug and said, “Create a small planet with some effort. Nothing much.”

To Aaliyah, that really was negligible. Compared with Alma and I, creating a planet was a completely different level.

“Nah. Remember your older selves!? They’ve totally created a planet for fun. Moons too! Took them quite a while, but you two eventually manage! Creating life on the planet was beyond you without stepping into your mostest favoritest room in your house, but I nudged some things.” explained Aaliyah with a wide grin.

��I’m sure we were… grateful.” suggested Alma as she glanced at me with a mischievous expression.

“You were! Not at all how you’re thinking.” insisted Aaliyah as she pretended to sulk. Then she grinned and said, “Come on! Let’s see the others.”

We followed, gliding along behind her.

In the ballroom, we watched Brandon and Brenna argue with one another over who got the last lemon tart as Kayla snagged it. Jemal chewed his sister out as she chewed the first bite, claiming one had been enough. Raine was in there now, talking with Emma about types of armor she could make.

Jarod was exercising in the twins’ gym, practicing that lethal style with Mila. Ai and Mai were in their war room. Ai was drafting plans for some type of microchip while Mai argued on the phone with someone.

Dejon was reading a book of poetry in my first floor library, alone again.

“He told you that he likes quiet. Don’t worry so much, boss-man, sir.” insisted Aaliyah. “Dejon’s as happy sitting there as the others goofing around. Writing poetry just happens to be a hobby of his. You should go to one of his readings when you’re back. He thinks about inviting everyone off and on, but he always talks himself out of it.”

A couple rooms down, Marco was chatting with Mila about what to cook for tomorrow, saying they needed something exciting to cheer everyone up.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. “No one really seemed down to me.”

“You can’t feel them like you normally do at the moment, but they’re not quite up to normal. Think of them as having a very mild withdrawal from your absence.” suggested Aaliyah.

“Great. I must have forgotten that I’m a drug.” I replied, surprised when I could feel Alma lean against me.

“Portentia’s out on a job. Iris is with her family. Let’s go see Regina!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

Alma seemed to tense but followed along. When we reached the pond, Regina’s spirit drifted to us, embracing me instantly. On my other side, I could feel Alma was even more tense.

“Relax! Regina likes you too.” suggested Aaliyah.

“Why isn’t she saying anything?” questioned Alma.

Aaliyah brushed the questioned aside as she said, “Doesn’t remember English. Spirits don’t tend to retain much knowledge of their lives. There are exceptions, of course, but relax!”

“She seems to remember James just fine.” stated Alma blandly.

“He’s not easy to forget, but you know why she does, though there’s no need to be jealous. I mean, if you really want to talk with her, sure, but you won’t like the conversation either.”

Alma acted as if she was taking a deep breath before saying, “But why must she be here?”

“To her, this is heaven. I like to grant the reasonable requests of wonderful people.”

“This is reasonable?” questioned Alma as she gestured to Regina.

“Sure. She didn’t request to be reincarnated here with Lilly-like powers, now did she? I’ve created alternate universes for people, so this really was nothing.” insisted Aaliyah.

Alma shrugged and said, “I… Well, I suppose I’m still acclimating to different views than those I was taught.”

“You’re not the only one.” I assured her.

Aaliyah separated Regina from me and brought us to visit Alma’s home in the U.K. next. Then she took us on a general tour of the world, telling us about various famous deaths and the afterlives of said people. Time seemed to alter, given that we were always arriving during the day. Perhaps Aaliyah was showing us that life happened, death happened, and we were privileged in knowing more than most? If this was a reminder that my daughter would eventually die, I didn’t need it.

“You can still talk with people after they’re dead, boss-man, sir. Unlike most people, you two don’t have to miss anyone that’s died. Take comfort in that fact.” she replied, smiling as she stared at me.

I could understand that I’d be able to spend time with my daughter a thousand years after she died, but having an infinite amount of time with her later didn’t mean I couldn’t miss her now. I found myself smiling as I thought about how silly Dani would find this one day.

#BFFH Honeymoon #BFFH #Honeymoon #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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periodicreviews · 7 years ago

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RWBY/RTX Austin 2018

Last weekend, I went to RTX Austin which is Rooster Teeth’s annual convention. Last time I went in 2016, it was about primarily to try it out, but I was also interested in seeing the RWBY panel for the plan the staff had for the forthcoming Volume 4, the first without Monty. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard Jeff Williams would be performing a concert and this turned out to be the highlight.

I skipped 2017 because there was no Jeff Williams concert and partially due to being disappointed with Volume 4.

I bet this year on the fact that Jeff would be coming back and that turned out to be a good choice because the show did not disappoint. I don’t think the 2016/first time experience can ever be topped, but this 2018 show was equally worth the money.

After the disappointment that was Volume 4 and the mediocre Volume 5, I wasn’t as hyped about RWBY, but I figured I should still go to RTX and see it since I’d be there anyway. But admittedly I was going more for the concert than anything else.

The following is a summary of the RWBY panel #1 on Friday, the JWFO concert and Q&A, and a few other things.

RWBY pre-panel

There were several things that stood out to me at this panel.

Before the panel began, two women came out on stage to warm up the crowd. (This was after Craig from GameAttack came out to ask for donations for the Extra Life charity stream that they do). I hate to reduce them to stereotypes because I don’t really know anything about them and don’t have anything against them, but it’s the easiest way to convey the scene. Girl #1 was cosplaying as Yang. She seemed to be a very energetic and outgoing type of person and I got the impression that she is trying to get hired by Rooster Teeth in a marketing/PR role. Girl #2 was wearing a RWBY dress and was the quieter kind of nerdy girl who had a little trouble speaking either due to nervousness or she just stutters when she talks. Girl #2 also had a bat wrapped with barbed wire, like from The Walking Dead which apparently someone just gave to her as a gift.

I bring up their appearances/personalities because they mentioned they had introduced several panels together, meaning that some organizer had put them together for some reason. There just didn’t seem to be any chemistry between the two. Girl #1 would start to go off on a PR line about how beautiful all the Yangs/cosplayers looked and Girl #2 would say “I like turtles”. She didn’t actually say “I like turtles” but I’m just trying to illustrate the kind of disconnect between them.

“So amazing!”

Girl #1 repeated this phrase at least 20 times while she was on-stage. I get she was there to hype up RWBY and RT, but maybe she went a little too far. She made it sound like everything at RTX was the best thing ever, which I get for fans, it’s a very enjoyable experience and from a PR perspective that’s what you want to convey. This is no different from something like Electric Daisy Carnival where they really push the “You are loved”/“We are all friends” message as you bake for 12 hours in the sun.

“Proud of me yet dad?”

Girl #2 said this near the end of their time and it felt like it was one of the few genuine moments during that opening.

“RWBY is the most forward facing property that Rooster Teeth has.”

Girl #1 said this and it’s one of many things she said that made me think she was trying to get hired.

“Are you guys ready for the Yang-bang with Barb?”

I cringed at this. I was completely unaware that the group selfie with Barbra Dunkleman (the voice of Yang) and other Yang cosplayers was referred to as a Yang-bang (I looked it up and that is what she tagged it as in 2016). I get that RWBY is now dark and gritty and no longer a “kid-friendly” show per se. But phrasing the selfie like this seemed to be a little too casual pun on “gangbang”.

Besides this, they went through the usual crowd questions like “Who’s here to see RWBY?”, “How many people have been to RTX before?”, “Did you guys get your merch? Oh that merch is so great.”, etc.

RWBY main panel

Once the panel officially started, I was confused as to why, just like in 2016, everyone seems so unorganized/unprepared. Maybe they think it’s funny, but I’d much rather prefer just a concise 45 minutes of presenting/banter, with 15 min for question. Kerry is always like “Oh guys, where did I put that? Is this next? Is that later? Should we just do it now?”

They announced “RWBY After the Fall” a new set of YA novels from Scholastic. It makes sense that they’re exploring the RWBY universe but it does make me wonder whether the V4 timeskip was seen as more of a business opportunity or done more in service to what would make the story better.

The most shocking thing about the panel was the discussion about how the writing process is different for Volume 6. Kerry and Miles initially started to say “In the past” but then quickly altered course and said “Let’s not talk about how we used to do it, just how we’re doing it now.” They basically described how they are writing more than one draft/getting the opinions of other people in the company who have been on the RWBY team for a long time.

It was shocking that they are doing it just now in Volume 6. I can understand Volume 1 and 2 just being a product of Monty/Miles/Kerry and 3 can kind of get a pass. But before/during Volume 4 and 5, wasn’t there anyone that said “Hey, maybe we need to do something different”? Maybe they did and it didn’t work out like they hoped. I am glad to hear that they are trying to improve the process.

The other big thing they did was to show a new character short. This one focused on the villains, mainly the White Fang/Adam. The short featured at least one new Jeff Williams vocal track and some of the animation looked amazing. In general, the animation for V4 and beyond has been decent to good, but there aren’t many instances where it really blows me away.

The short shows Sienna Khan using a chain rope weapon against multiple enemies at the same time. The chain (with a blade at the tip) moves so fluidly and the combat has a real sense of rhythm to it. Sure, you can have the greatest animation in the world, but it doesn’t mean anything if the story isn’t there to match it. I’m willing to stick around some more to see if the script improves. They did also announce a new RWBY Co director and if this short was a product of his involvement, then I like what I’m seeing so far.

Jeff and Casey Williams Q&A

When tickets first went on sale, the only option to be on the floor was to pay 60 dollars for a poster, ticket, and Q&A with Jeff and Casey. I think afterwards, you could just buy the standalone ticket, but I didn’t want to risk not being on the floor.

I get that the concert is hosted by ACL and not by RTX, but you would think there would be a little more coordination between the two organizations given that the concert appears on the RTX schedule and the graphic says “RTX presents”. On Saturday afternoon, I tried to figure out when and where the Q&A would be held. The regular guardians didn’t know and referred me to their manager. I was told to contact the venue to find out and that RTX wasn’t in charge of the event. It was just weird that RTX staff didn’t seem interested in finding out for themselves. I would bet I was not the only person to ask someone at RTX for information about the concert. Additionally the guy in charge of coordination was apparently not at RTX that day so I guess maybe he would’ve known. I ended up getting an email at 4pm telling me to go to the venue at 6pm. But for anyone who didn’t see that email, they were pretty upset that they missed it.

When I got to the venue, one of the staff members saw my Babymetal shirt and asked if I had seen them at ACL. I said no, but that I had seen them elsewhere. From that guy’s reaction and some of the looks from the other staff members, it felt like they instantly had a level of respect towards me. Like they had seen how the fans of Babymetal were at the show and thought “hey, this guy knows his good music.” Maybe I read them completely wrong. It was a very bizarre feeling because few people know what Babymetal is and fewer can read my almost illegible shirt.

Jeff seemed like he didn’t enjoy the stress of having to put on a big show and seemed kind of bored or just tired? Maybe RWBY fatigue is setting in and he feels kind of trapped by the constraints of the show. He talked about wanting to retire and start his Rush Limbo side project, which is music by the band Rush set in all 4-4 time in a reggae style. Obviously someone had to be that guy to ask Casey if she was single. I realize the guy thinks he is being funny or has a chance, but I think you’d be far less likely to go out with someone after subjecting them to a question like that where they are obligated to give you a response.

They floated the idea of playing shows in other locations but that seemed to be constrained by the forces at Rooster Teeth. Or maybe they’re just concerned they aren’t big enough to make any money off a tour. Jeff recommended everyone read a book called “The War of Art” which is about overcoming yourself to create the thing you’ve always wanted but never finished.

JWFO concert

The concert itself was great, but got off to a late start.

I almost forgot about all the weird things that happened while waiting for the concert to start. Someone started a sing along to Bohemian Rhapsody and several other songs. I’ve experienced the Bohemian Rhapsody sing along before, but never at another concert. When they played Numb by Linkin Park as background music, everyone sang along to that too, which is something that I have seen at other concerts at Hard Rock/House of Blues. At one point some people in the crowd erupted in shouts of “Jason?!” which I can only assume was a Heavy Rain reference. Then the crowd started to cheer whenever any technician or photographer came on stage. Again, this is not something I experience at many/if any shows.

This super hype atmosphere is fine, until it turns into everyone trying to be a comedian while there’s either a break between songs, or when the musicians are conversing on stage. Someone said like “Rest in pieces Pyhrra” or something like that at one point and sure I can handle one or two jokes or the occasional shout out. But at the end of the day, I’m here to see the band, not the crowd. I don’t blame those people in the audience trying to get Jeff or Casey to notice them and to have that deeper connection, but it gets old after a while.

There seemed to be communication issues or just not enough time to practice the ordering of the songs. Richie Branson was incredible as an opening act. I’ve seen him three times before and he is great every time. I think a lot of the audience didn’t know who he was or that there would be an opening act, but he seemed to win everyone over by the end of the first song. Adrienne Cowan, Lamar Hall, and Lydia were great again on vocals during the main act.

There were sadly no solos sections like there were in 2016. I remember vividly the extended piano solo the keyboardist performed to lead into “When It Falls”. Jeff also didn’t crowd surf this year either. But I think they were just pressed for time. Casey still seems to struggle more on some songs than others, but she was frank during the Q&A that she has a long way to go and it’s a struggle to keep up at Berklee.

Highlights for me were “Ignite” and “Smile” off the Volume 5 soundtrack.

Other things

I spent the majority of my time in the Vendor Room playing Rock Band 4. Harmonix was there because “This Will Be The Day” is now available as DLC. But with everyone playing the same song, I think they were grateful for anyone who wouldn’t play that. There were some talented players there and it just felt good to play Rock Band after not having done it with a group in a while. I think the people in the Rock Band line were some of the friendliest I met all weekend.

I felt like I struggled socially during the whole weekend. Maybe it’s just that most con-people aren’t very good at socializing. Or it’s just me or a byproduct of going alone. Everyone else staying at the hostel I was at was interested in talking though.

I went to see an improv comedy show at the Fallout Theater. The show was called “Penalty Box” and there were a set of rules that the audience knew but the performers didn’t. So every time they violated a rule, they would get sent to the penalty box and through trial and error they would figure out most of the rules. It’s entertaining as an audience member, but as someone who is taking improv classes, I recognize how painful it is for the performers. Some of the rules prevent you from doing things that you are taught to do, resulting in at least one scene where the performers just stood still on stage and didn’t talk.

The Mega64 panel was also very enjoyable. Arcade UFO is a pretty nice arcade with a lot of games you don’t normally see in the US. I also got to see a friend I haven’t seen in a while. I have mixed feelings about Troy Baker’s “TED” talk style panel, but I respect that it was not just “another Q&A” type panel.

Maybe I’ll go back next year.

#rtx 2018 #rwby

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ba-hons-film-blog · 4 years ago

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Screenplay:

Initial Concept:

For this project, our brief was to write a two page screenplay. For my screenplay, I wanted something where the characters would begin in one state of mind, and something would happen that would leave them in a different state of mind. My original idea, which followed two estranged friends reconciling after one gave the other a gift of sentimental significance, was the idea that became my group's first tableau movie. After this, I had to come up with a new idea. I considered various ideas, including:

A miscommunication between a homeless man and a teenager - the teenager thinks the homeless man is asking for drugs but realizes he is complimenting him on his t-shirt, and the two have a chat about it.

Someone locks themselves out their flat, but does not have the guts to ring their scary flatmate to open the door.

A shy man trying to get something from his friend's flat is unable to get in because of a hostage situation involving a cardboard cutout of Colin Firth (The cardboard cutout has been kidnapped and the people in the flat won’t open the door, lest the people banging on their door, trying to get the cutout back, get in). After timidly letting everyone step over him, he eventually loses his patience and forces the people to resolve the situation so he can get what he came for.

A clerk has a tense shift when a feared criminal walks into the shop, demands several unusual items and leaves, after swearing the clerk to secrecy (this film would be more about tension than narrative).

Ultimately, I either didn't feel the ideas were good enough or worried they wouldn't fit into two pages. Additionally, I wanted something more human and relatable.

Whilst thinking about themes of masculinity and father/son relationships, I came up with an idea I was happy with. It followed a father (David) and his sixteen year old son (Jacob), who were once close but have inevitably grown apart. The two have a tense, joyless discussion one morning, and appear not to care for one another. After Jacob leaves for school, David realises he forgot to buy some apple juice (a drink he is partial to at breakfast), only to see his son has brought some for him and prepared his breakfast. David is emotional on seeing Jacob still cares, and goes to thank him.

I felt this touched nicely on the issue of father/son love - how the two often love each other, but would never show it and can question if the other does in fact care for them. While maybe a little cheesy and on the nose, I felt the idea touched on some genuine human issues, it had the characters change over the script and could feasibly fit in two pages. For these reasons, I decided this was the right idea to write about.

For writing the script, I used the free version of Celtx and used various sources on the internet to try and get the formatting correct.

Feedback (on 1st draft):

While the feedback was generally positive, there were several points for improvement. The feedback stated that the characters of David and Jacob seemed to get along too well and that the story would benefit from some conflict between the two. While I felt the two should get along reasonably well and shouldn’t be constantly sparing, I did realise that some conflict would further highlight the tense, imperfect relationship between the two and would generally make the script and their dynamic more interesting.

Another issue was to break up big passages of text to make the description more digestible. The formatting was generally good, but I didn't have to put semicolons after the character’s name headings, something I hadn't realised before. Beyond this, there weren't any major issues.

Revisions:

After changing the grammar/paragraphing issues, I set about adding some conflict to the story. Some of it revolved around Jacob staying up late gaming, and some revolved around Jacob running late for school. The latter is particularly significant, as initially David and the audience thinks Jacob is late due to his gaming and other typical teenage reasons, whereas it is later revealed to be a result of going to get the apple juice for his dad. I thought it was an interesting subversion of the audience's expectations that ties into the theme of Jacob still being a caring, loving son despite appearances.

Ultimately, following the revisions, I think there is a good balance between passive-aggressive tones and more forced, muted exchanges on subjects neither really cares about. This keeps the script from being too bland and makes the dynamic more interesting and multifaceted. I also edited the scene description so no paragraph was longer than five lines, to make the script more digestible and visually pleasing.

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hoe-imaginess · 8 years ago

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Shino Aburame scenario please? He's a favourite character of mine that feels so unloved

I did a modern high school AU scenario draft if that’s cool bc I just love those AUs and it seemed to work so like???? Scenario drafts work well with modern AUs idk why. And I assumed you wanted it with a s/o but I started this as a reader insert my bad? Hopes this is okay

Shino scenario draft

You’ve known Shino for years. Ever since you first started school, you can remember him being there.

You can remember him finding slugs and beetles out in the school yard, showing them off like prized possessions and making girls squeal and run. You remember how he answered every science question correctly without fail, making you and your other classmates feel either incompetent or annoyed. He had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way sometimes. But not you.

It was in high school that you two first had a class together. It’s then that you started watching him. He piqued your curiosity. There was so much to him. Shino was always so standoffish. But why? You know he has friends. A lot of them, judging by the niche he’s acquired over the years. Naruto Uzumaki, Kiba Inuzuka, Shikamaru Nara, and a number of others that to you never seemed like a crowd Shino would mingle with. Yet he seemed to fit in without much trouble. But still, for a guy with so many friends, he was so… to himself. Why? Was he shy? Anti-social? You could never figure it out.

Bothered by his habitual silence, you take initiative one day and speak up.

“Hey Shino… how did your science project go?” Not that you were truly invested in the answer, but you had heard his project gained major praise from the science department. It was something about the metamorphosis of moths compared to butterflies. You didn’t understand the hype yourself, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from Shino.

Although he’s mildly surprised by your question, probably because you two haven’t spoken beyond partner work all this time, he still offers you the courtesy and answers you.

“Fine.”

“Oh.” The brevity of his reply isn’t surprising, but you forgot how flat his tone could be. “That’s good.”

The atmosphere doesn’t change after that. It’s almost as if your initiative meant nothing at all. It doesn’t offend you. It doesn’t annoy you. The fact he replied at all is enough to make you happy.

Conversations with Shino don’t become much easier as the year goes on. But at least he’s giving you the time of day.

He still keeps to himself for the most part, but you get more and more out of him each passing day. Mostly snide comments under his breath. Sometimes about other kids in class acting up, sometimes about the teacher being incompetent. As cold as these comments might seem, they always make you chuckle. At least you’re beginning to see what kind of guy Shino is. Whimsical in his own respect, and much more fascinating than you previously thought.

He would never admit it, but he’s starting to think the same way about you.

Shino is in your class again the following year. He seems familiar enough with you that he willingly chooses to take the seat next to you on the first day. A blessing in two respects, since science is your worst subject, and his forte. Now he’s your lab partner. You’re certain that will save you from a low mark this year. And, it again provides you the opportunity to get to know him better.

He can still be rather withdrawn at times. If you dare strike impulsive conversation during class, even if it’s just a silly comment, he ignores you. It’s as if the lecture is his only focus. In fact, he even chastises you one day.

“You should be paying attention to the lesson,” he tells you, after your attempt at a sly joke fails to resonate.

It startles you, but doesn’t upset you. If anything, it’s amusing. For whatever reason, over the time you’ve really known him, his attitude does nothing but amuse you. He probably expects it to be intimidating. Authoritative, even. He wants you to take him seriously. But you can’t. He’s too… cute.

You just smile a knowing smile and turn your attention back to the teacher.

The year goes on. Shino is much friendlier… or at least, his version of friendly. He doesn’t seem to brush you off as easily as he used to. It’s as if you’ve gained his trust. Although, that might be a reward for entertaining his bug affinity and asking him questions throughout your science class together. No matter how adverse he seems to conversation, if you ask about a bug, he’s more than happy to answer. In fact, you’ve never seen him talk as much as he does than when he’s telling you about insects.

It’s a little weird, but you like it.

Already convinced that Shino is the reason you were getting good marks in science, you had to persuade him into partnering with you on the big upcoming project. He didn’t seem very enthused at the prospect. As far as you knew, he preferred working alone. So you were surprised when he agreed.

You catch up to him as he walks home one day. “Shino!”

He seems off-put by the way you run up to him, but he turns to give you his attention, nonetheless.

“_______.”

“Are you busy? I thought we could work a little on our project now.”

He pauses. He’s mildly concerned that you’re becoming much too persistent. It’s a little annoying. Yet he can’t find it in him to ignore you. “It’s a Saturday.” Of course you can’t see his expression behind the glasses, but his tone lets on to the hesitance. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“Nope, not really. I would rather get started on the project. Besides, we’re both free.”

“I never said I was free.”

“Well. Are you?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

“Well, good! Where should we go?”

Your enthusiasm visibly confuses him. Maybe you were coming on too fast. But you can’t help it. He’s being more compliant than usual and you have to take advantage of that.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“Your house maybe? If that’s okay? It’s close, isn’t it?”

He wants to ask how you know where he lives, but he’s too busy thinking about the proposal. He’s reluctant. His parents probably wouldn’t mind. They were always so busy with the family business. The house was probably empty anyway. Besides, you were just his lab partner. That’s it. Nothing wrong with a lab partner coming over to his empty house on a Saturday evening, right?

“Sure.”

And you two are on your way.

For a week, you see Shino every day after school to work on the project. You two work well together, for the most part. But his strange attitude has been puzzling you.

One day he’s open and comfortable; the next, he’s closing himself off. The routine is tiresome. His cold nature bothers you. Before, it never did. You didn’t even bat an eye at the demeanor because it was all you had ever known. But now, it’s upsetting. You had finally cracked his shell, only to be pushed away once again. What was going on? Had you done something to regress?

These little moments of confusion are remedied when he goes soft around you. It’s the little things. Asking if you’re hungry, offering to cook for you. Asking you about yourself, something he had never done in the years you had known him. It makes you happy, thinking that he might actually care. To see this side of him feels like a gift.

The routine becomes something you look forward to. Working on your project doesn’t sound so tedious as the days go by. All seems well, but there is one afternoon where his demeanor makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

He’s been quiet, almost too quiet. Every time you try to talk to him, he offers no reply. At most, a little grunt, one that suggests you not speak again. At first, you think he’s just busy concentrating. But then you realize he’s actually trying to ignore you.

This continues for a few days. Was something wrong?

You have to ask for your own sake. “Is everything okay, Shino?”

“Fine.”

But that’s not a normal response. If everything was fine, he might have asked a reason for the inquiry. That’s how he was, quick to question your curiosity if he thought it was unsolicited. So no, everything isn’t fine.

Was he upset with you? Was he annoyed? Perhaps with your worth ethic? Not that you slacked and left the workload to him, but Shino was a man who didn’t forgive ignorance. Especially when it came to his science and bugs. If you didn’t understand something, he would rather do it himself than take the time to explain. You had pointed out before how unproductive that was, but he didn’t seem to take you seriously. His arrogant undertone wasn’t new. But something was definitely off as of late. Whatever glow of potential friendship you had once felt is dwindling… and it hurts, in a way.

“You’re acting strange,” you point out to him, knowing it might be a little too bold.

“No I’m not.”

But he is. He most definitely is. You don’t think he’s even looked at you once since you came over that day.

“Is everything alright?” You keep pressing because it’s the only thing you know how to do with Shino.

“Fine.”

But it’s not.

“If you don’t want to work on the project today that’s fine with me.” You wonder if he’s tired. He worked so hard all the time. “We can just take a break. Are you hungry? We can—”

“If you don’t want to do any work then just say so. Just leave. I can do it on my own.”

You stare at him. The words were spoken with such bitter spite. It almost didn’t sound natural. “What?”

“I don’t have time to waste.” He writes something down on his lab report, seemingly unbothered by your confusion and fluster. “I’ll just finish this myself. I’ve done everything up to this point anyways.”

Now the confusion shifts into frustration. “I’ve tried to help, Shino.” Were you at fault if he prevented you from contributing? “But you act like I’m… stupid.”

“You’re not.” But there’s no reassurance or repentance in his voice. He still won’t even look at you.

“Then why can’t I help?”

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Okay, then teach me.”

“I don’t have time. It’s easier if I just do it on my own.”

“But then you complain that I’m not helping. You see how this isn’t working out, right?.”

Finally, he looks at you. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses, you can feel his scrutinizing gaze. Not hateful, but not soft either.

It frustrates you more than it intimidates or disappoints you. All you’ve done up to this point is tolerate his attitude. Stayed out of his way when necessary because you know his personality can be assertive every bit as it can be reticent. What had you done to warrant this?

“Shino, we’re partners.” You surrender the anger that almost takes over your tone. “I want to help.”

“If you want to help, then just leave. I need to do it on my own. You can go home.”

You’re about to protest again, but the reality of the situation hits you. Maybe you were just a nuisance this entire time. Someone whose company he tolerated, not enjoyed. Had you been going about this the wrong way? Blinded by your own excitement? You hadn’t even stopped to consider whether or not he was as content as you were being ‘friends’.

You do as he says. You leave, with your heart hurting the whole way for some unknown reason.

He doesn’t talk to you at school the next day. You don’t say anything to him either, too scared to start conversation.

It saddens you to think you’ve ruined what was there—no matter how small it was. You thought you two were getting close. Closing the gap that kept you from friendship for so long. But maybe you had overestimated the relationship.

You try to think back on the whole thing. You two had conversations aside from the project. Fun conversations, at least to you. Conversations friends would have. He seemed to open up around you. Wasn’t aloof and quiet like he was with others. Hell, you even sat with him at lunch some days and saw how he interacted with his friends. It didn’t seem very different from how he was starting to treat you. You felt special. You felt happy.

So what went wrong?

Maybe it was too much for him. Maybe you came on too strong. Maybe he was only enduring you for your portion of the project. That seems logical enough. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lost a friend… which should make this easier, but it’s not.

You didn’t even know him that well. Why did it bother you so much? Why did you dread going to class and seeing him every day since it happened? You didn’t know. But the mix of guilt and anger was certainly taking its toll.

The first time he talks to you since the incident is the day before your project is due.

“Is there anything else you want to add to the project before tomorrow?” His voice is so dull and detached, it hardly sounds like a question. He’s not even looking at you.

Still, it’s a futile question. Why would he give you the courtesy when all he had done up until this point is criticize your participation? A sharp retort is caught on your tongue. You’re sure he would have one in response. But you were too emotionally drained to test that. You couldn’t fathom tarnishing your relationship with him any further—if it could even be called that at this point.

“No,” you tell him. “It’s whatever you decide.” You hope your tone isn’t as brash as it sounds in your head. He doesn’t seem to notice. Regardless, he still won’t look at you.

“Fine.”

Then class is over, and he leaves you sitting there. Confused, guilty… and yearning.

You get the highest mark possible on the project. You don’t thank Shino, though you wonder if he’s expecting gratitude. If he is, he doesn’t make it apparent. He doesn’t seem interested in speaking to you again for a long time.

You’ve learned to accept it. Something went wrong, obviously. What exactly, you don’t know. You stopped trying to guess.

It hurts for a week or two. Fortifying your relationship with Shino had been encouraging. You looked forward to seeing him every day. It actually made school bearable. Now, it’s back to enduring. All while trying to ignore the tension between you two now.

He surprises you one day after class by asking if he can speak to you alone. You think about declining. Politely, of course. Politely as you can, given the bitterness that has gathered with your situation. But you somehow can’t deny him.

You two wait until the classroom is empty. Even behind his glasses, you can see his discomfort. His demeanor is stifled by hesitation.

It’s a long moment before he breaks the silence. “You’ve been very quiet in class.”

You stare blankly. You hadn’t expected that. Was he serious? Is that all he had to say?

“Well… yeah.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” He couldn’t possibly be so oblivious. He was either repressing the friction he had caused or hoping you had forgotten about it already. Thin chance. “You mean besides the fact you brushed me off and didn’t talk to me for a month?” The spite comes through more than you intended it to, but it’s too late to stop now. “Of course there’s something wrong.”

“I didn’t brush you off.”

“Then what would you call it? You made me feel stupid. You didn’t have to be like that, Shino. All I wanted to do was help.”

His expression doesn’t seem to change. Nothing about him changes. You would have thought that such contentious words would instigate him, but no. He looks as if he’s studying you.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” is all he says.

You would consider it an apology, if his tone wasn’t so indifferent. It made you feel unimportant. Like a nuisance. Which was the reason your little dispute had been so hurtful in the first place. Why Shino’s opinion of you was so critical, you didn’t know. But that’s just how it was now. And although you want to be mad at him, to pour onto him the mix of resentful emotions that had amassed over the weeks, you can’t.

If you really think about it, you knew you were at fault too, for expecting too much out of him. Everyone knew Shino was not an easy guy to deal with. He never had been. It was foolhardy to assume that working on a project together would remedy that.

“I know I can be difficult,” you say. It damages your pride, but it’s true. “And maybe I wasn’t the best partner. I’m sorry. You just made me feel so… irrelevant. If you didn’t want to work with me, why did you agree in the first place?”

Shino thinks. He could argue and remind you that your persistence was what made you two partners. He hardly had any say in the matter. But your question still remains. Why had he agreed if he knew you would be a nuisance? You had always annoyed him a little. Most people did. But it was different with you.

When you left that day, after he snapped at you, he didn’t feel a sense of relief or accomplishment. Not like he normally did when he ridded himself of a distraction.

He felt regret.

Pride aside, he always had a difficult time admitting when he was wrong. He was so used to chastising others for their errors that he had forgotten how it felt to feel guilty about his harsh words. Regret wasn’t something he felt often. But now, it’s too bothersome to ignore.

“It’s… fine,” he says.

You look at him, unfamiliar with such a civil response. “What?”

He sighs inwardly. Giving up on his pride was a great defeat. “You don’t have to apologize.” It did make his own apology—if that’s what this was—a little easier, though. “If anything, I was the bad partner.”

He doesn’t sound insincere. He sounds like he really means it. It’s almost enough to make you smile a little. “Are you sure about that? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Even if he’s not, it seems like a shame to hold any anger toward you. It’s not your fault. How could you know you were subject to his confusing emotions as of late? He didn’t know how to feel about you. He never has. He knows now that’s what prompted him to treat you so coldly. A defense mechanism to combat whatever odd feelings of fondness he had felt for you over the past few years. But he couldn’t tell you that.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks evenly.

It’s such a silly, innocent question. It didn’t sound like a question Shino Aburame would ask. You want to say yes, because truthfully, somewhere you are mad at him. Mad at him for treating you so callously. For making you feel so strongly for him.

“No,” you finally concede with a sigh. “We just got off on the wrong foot.” Almost two years ago, you think to yourself. He’s quiet after that, as though he’s waiting for you to carry the conversation. Maybe to salvage the civility you two are desperately seeking. “Maybe next time we’ll have to fine different partners.”

“Maybe.” And that’s all he says. Ever the taciturn one.

You nod in place of vain conversation. The demeanor between you two isn’t entirely mended, but it’s much more comfortable now. It’s odd how so few words on Shino’s end can remedy your mood. You don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“So… do you want to make it up to me?”

Behind his collar, he frowns. “What?”

“Do you want to make it up to me?” He probably can’t detect the teasing edge to your voice. And that’s fine. It’s more fun that way. “You can take me to eat. I’m starving.”

You’re met with silence. Obviously, the humor doesn’t reach him.

“Why would I do that?” he asks, flat as ever.

“It’s the end of the week. You don’t treat yourself to good food at the end of the week?”

“No. Not usually.”

His dull attitude makes you laugh. It always has. You’re just glad you can enjoy it again.

“That’s fine then,” you say, a smile on your lips. The wind is picking up outside. If you don’t get home soon, you’ll be caught in the rain. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re hurrying in the other direction by the time he replies. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

That next week, Shino does make it up to you. He asks you out to dinner.

#pls point out typos PLEASE #Is it weird I do second person but omniscient #this was awful i'm sorry #i should have ended it sooner idk what i even did i'm so sorry omg #i think i know who requested this i'm sorry fam ):#shino #naruto imagines #shino aburame #aburame shino

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fasa-umich · 5 years ago

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Bea Fandiño, 2019-2020 FASA Performance Chair

The Start of Something New

Flashback to 363 days ago. It’s FASA E-Board election day, I had barely slept the night before, I’m quaking in my boots the entire afternoon, and I’m with Hannah Banana Anderson bopping [to the top] to all the HSM hits in attempt to deflect the feels.

Music just has that power to take you to another world, ya know?

In fact, that was exactly my motivation behind running for Performance Chair. In my experience, performance, all its forms, offers an opportunity unlike any other. Whether you are sharing your passions on stage or witnessing that passion from the audience, performance has the ability to connect people, regardless of different backgrounds. It’s for this reason that I really tried to push our members to figure out their purpose behind performing with FASA. Who am I dancing for? How does this piece play a role in culture? With the constant laughs and hard work that come with rehearsals, it’s easy to get caught up in the fun of everything. But it’s also important to remember the “why.”

Okay, I’ll step off my soapbox now, thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#LongLiveFASADance

Performance this year was no easy feat, let me tell you. We jumped right into the game with Kalayaan rehearsals in May, then there was CAPA Asian Fest in July, then PCN, then Battle of the Bamboo, and other small performance cameos from our members in between (e.g. L’anse Creuse’s cultural showcase, the A/PIA Showcase, jam sessions, and external PCN’s). Essentially, there was always something to do; because when you’re in the middle of rehearsals for one event, you’re also busy figuring out the details and choreo for the next event, while at the same time making sure you are there to support your fellow board members planning FASA’s other events.

With that being said, I absolutely could not have done this without the help of E-Board. Coming into this position, I know there was some concern with only one individual trying to juggle a two-person job. But to be honest, I wasn’t that worried (lol I’m not trying to be cocky, I promise). Because from Day 1, my board was behind me, always checking in to see how I was doing, bringing me food when I forgot meals were a thing people did here, and never failing to offer a helping hand, even when I was stubborn and tried not to take it. Thank you guys for holding my hand through this entire process. Our board meetings are what got me through the week, and there is absolutely no other group I’d rather go through hell and back with.

My ride or dies

In particular, there are a few people I especially need to thank:

AJ, I sometimes joked that you were my informal co-chair—but seriously, I could not have done this without you. From helping clean Kalayaan rehearsals to choreographing a Modern Tinik set to teaching our costume committees how to sew (and even to reserving hotel rooms because I’m scared of adulting), you were integral in keeping performance on track [and keeping me sane].

Ate Angela, wow oh wow. You not only choreographed a killer Modern Tinik dance, but you also COMPOSED (:O) FASA’s first-ever traditional music set (#GongGang). Thank you for not only being patient with the ever-changing room and music requests, but also bringing your positivity and hilarious wit to every practice.

EJ—Edgy—I don’t know how I would have handled Battle without your help. Despite the many last-minute changes along the way, you powered through it, even though you were never obligated to. Your creative direction shaped our Battle set, and it was an honor leading my last performance chant with you (I know I’m a sap, sorry not sorry).

🎵We’re all in this together 🎵

At the same time, I owe so much of our success with performance to our general members. FASA, your enthusiasm and drive were contagious and are what kept me motivated through the craziness. Thank you for putting up with the many late nights, for checking up on me when I seemed to be losing my marbles, and for always coming to practice with a smile on your face. Whether you are a first-year exploring your culture for the first time, a sophomore I forced highly encouraged to join the group, or a senior making the most of your last moments in college, I hope you were able to take away something valuable from FASA Performance this year. Everything we accomplished would not have been possible without your ongoing efforts and commitment.

THE TEAM, THE TEAM, THE TEAM

To whoever is graced with the position of Performance Chair(s) in the future, here are a few words of wisdom from this old retired chum:

You do NOT need previous dance experience to succeed in this role. I had never seriously danced before—the most I had ever done was a mediocre attempt at tap for a high school production, and clearly that wasn’t going to be useful for FASA. YouTube is your friend, and definitely enlist other people to help out with choreography.

Be both proactive and reactive. As an extremely detail-oriented person, I always tried to plan ahead with as many details figured out as possible. But the reality is that your plans might suddenly be thwarted due to external factors you simply cannot control. Anticipate issues before they arise and create backup plans, but also be prepared to make last-minute adjustments when the world decides to surprise you.

Don’t be afraid to break “tradition.” Things may have been done one way in the past, but that is by no means a precedent you absolutely have to follow. Take into consideration what has gone well in previous years and what hasn’t. This year I wanted to maintain the strength of FASA Dance while building on the other aspects of performance (i.e. spoken word and traditional instruments) that last year’s performance chairs tried to introduce. Knowing that former hell weeks sometimes went as late as three or four in the morning, I also made it a goal to avoid this by drafting consistent schedules and putting dancers to work right from the beginning so that by the time hell week came, we were in a good place; and it worked. Learn from past experiences and use that as a basis for how you want to carry the position moving forward.

Know your limits. This includes the limits of not just yourself, but also of your board and general members. Various opportunities for performance will arise throughout the year; and while you may be tempted to take all of them, there might be some points where you just have to say no. Be cognizant of your own schedule, board’s responsibility for other events, and the energy of your general members. At the end of the day, you want to be able to give 110% to whatever performances you commit to, and it’s not worth it to spread the organization too thin.

Going off of the previous note, ASK FOR HELP. I was pretty infamous for failing to do this first semester. As the year progressed, though, I found the value in delegating tasks right from the start, instead of trying things out on my own and waiting until I was overwhelmed to ask for help. Designate committee leaders. Keep communication upfront and consistent. Doing so will allow you to better handle your duties and more easily offer help to other boardies. Just because you can do it, that doesn’t mean you should.

🎵Everyone: “I don’t dance.” FASA: “I say you can.” 🎵

All in all, yeah. Performance Chair was a lot. But 100% worth it. Would I do it again? Never. But I loved every second of it. Because of how closely you work with everyone for each performance, this position offers you the unique opportunity to not only build relationships across all grade levels, but also watch members grow throughout the year. It’s a lot of chaos—but it’s beyond fulfilling to see the moving parts come together.

Maraming at maraming salamat, FASA. Thank you for the laughs, for the hours upon hours you gave to rehearsals, for the many blooper-worthy goofy moments. But most of all, thank you for trusting me. It’s been an honor growing with you.

Mahal na mahal kita,

Bea Fandiño

#2019.20 #FASAPerformance

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 6 years ago

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↬ i hope this autumn breeze scatters our memories away.

date: august 2019.

location: ash’s apartment + a studio at bc.

word count: 1,881 words.

summary: ash said (sorta) fuck love... my impact...

notes: creative claims verification. please blame any part of this that doesn’t make sense on the medicine i’ve been on the whole time i was writing it.

mid-august 2019.

ash sat down at the piano bench and set his phone down next to it, voice memo app set to record. he hadn’t done this in a while. back in the days before he’d become so busy with solo schedules and proven himself as a creative enough for songwriting to be a real part of his job, he used to do this all the time. he’d have too many feelings not to let out in some way (he’d been less practiced at keeping it all in then) and the piano was a loyal friend who always listened. it had been his closest confidant since he’d been four years old. it didn’t matter that he’d been to so many different instruments to confide his troubles. in the end, they all represented the same thing, and that’s what drew him to even the most foreign piano.

a piano was the one thing that had been by his side in his life the longest. friends and partners had come and gone, but the relationship between ash and the nearest piano had never grown stale, even when schedules had kept him away for extended periods of time and caused neglect of their bond. no matter how short his time with the black and white keys was, he never forgot how to connect with them, and that’s more than he could say for so many of the people who had passed through his life — and for so many of the people who had once been his entire life.

it’d only been a few months that he’d had a piano to call his own. moving out into his own place, a used baby grand was one of the first items he’d invested in for his new home’s interior. more than privacy or peace and quiet, he had a piano to call his own placed in front of the expansive set of windows that fronted his living room. he hadn’t had many opportunities to sit down at it and make music, but, as naturally as if he’d been doing it every night for the past half a year, he let his fingers spread out over the keys and start their push and pull, practiced endlessly until it had become nothing more than sheer instinct. like gentle waves crashing upon sand, taking and delivering in equal measure, his hands slowly traced out experimental notes and chords as he attempted to recreate the composition that had been forming itself in his head for the past few hours, itching to come out and be brought to life.

a piano was so different from the keyboard in his studio. the keys had lived a life of their own and they pushed back against the press of his fingers in a battle happening on the microscopic level, but it was a battle of passion, not wrath. there had been times he’d set to work at the keys with anger, but never toward the instrument itself. simmering anger was better for composing than the explosive type. art laid in the intricacies of a dynamic range, something more straight-on emotions didn’t lend themselves as simply to.

ash wasn’t able to put a name to all of the feelings he felt in the moment. there were too many and they’d interwoven with another until they became unrecognizable, only able to be expressed in the wave of his fingers.

it was a simple set of chords. it wouldn’t be anything notable for its complexity, but it was remorseful and unrelenting. there was a reluctance to follow the beat, and ash replayed sections as he figured them out multiple times to make sure the feeling was conveyed into the recording he’d be transposing over into his computer later by ear.

it only took about an hour for him to have one final recorded memo of the composition that he was pleased with.

lyrics had come in bits and pieces as he composed, as tied to the music as the piano notes themselves. the words that came to him told a story that wasn’t his own. not now, at least. they were a story he’d lived time and time again in the past, but had never let come out in such bitter words.

love. it’d been the thing ash had sought out ever since he’d been a little boy with only the way his parents looked at each other and the way they sneaked kisses as they made dinner to idealize. he’d written more love songs than he could ever hope to release about every person who’d taken a piece of his heart since he was a teenager. even before then, ash remembered the elementary poetry he’d written about the butterflies he got from the boy who was so good at soccer at recess and the lengthy love letter he’d composed to his fifth grade “girlfriend”. love songs had filled most every playlist he listened to. even when he had gone through heartbreak, he’d listen to them to remind himself love was still out there.

now, he didn’t want to remind himself of that. where had love songs gotten him? they hadn’t ever made anyone stay, or kept insecurities from bringing love to a fizzling end, or made a relationship with his career and his own mind to contend with any easier. the mirage revealed its truth eventually every time, so why was it so hard to let go of the ideal he’d painted for himself that he clearly wasn’t meant to have?

if he could shatter his stupid heart on the floor of his living room like glass, he would.

late august 2019.

“are you sure you wrote this?”

ash snapped his eyes from his computer screen to the woman standing next to him at her question. of course he’d written it. he wasn’t about to start plagiarizing and claiming someone else’s work as his own. and if he ever did finally abandon all of his morals, it wasn’t going to be for a proposed last minute addition to a track list that was supposed to already be finished. it’d definitely be because he had finally snapped and decided to end his own career because bc wouldn’t end his suffering for him.

“yes?” he answered incredulously and the first response he got in return was a laugh. it wasn’t a malicious laugh, but ash remained tense nonetheless, unable to catch on to what she was implying in his own fatigue-ridden mind and they way her tone was much more humorous than his.

“sorry,” she apologized, seeming to catch on that his mind wasn’t working at a fast enough speed to read her tone. “it doesn’t sound like you. well, it does. i’ve heard your heartbreak songs. but this is so cynical. you wrote ‘some’ and those songs you wrote on knight’s albums. they’re cute. i don’t know. i expected something more like that.”

ash’s tensed shoulders relaxed, but not completely. the singles he’d promoted from i’m young and daydream had both been songs about heartbreak. he’d written more songs about heartbreak than happiness in a relationship or the butterflies of having a crush if he considered everything he’d ever written. negative feelings were easier for him to write about than positive ones most of the time. they were easier to lose himself in and they were more plentiful in his life for the past few years. why was it hard to believe he’d written this? not to mention cute had been off the table the minute bc had decided he had some sort of marketable sex appeal that they’d been neglecting.

“it’s not that out of left field. and there’s already songs with a similar feeling on the album. that’s why i was going to suggest adding it. the whole back half of the track list is about disillusionment with love, so it should fit,” ash countered, trying not to sound as defensive as he felt. “i geared all of the production to fit in with the sound of the album.” had he failed?

“wasn’t it supposed to be about the sad feelings after a break up? ‘disillusionment with love’ is taking that pretty far.”

ash wanted to argue back, but he didn’t have the energy and she wasn’t wrong. those exact words had never been raised when discussing the concept of the album, and he hadn’t envisioned it in such pessimistic terms when the album had been in its early stages either. it was only when he’d begun writing this song that disillusionment became such a defining term for him. he knew why. his own mindset had changed in the months since the album had begun and he himself had become disillusioned. “but does it work? for the album? do you think it’d be worth pitching?” he asked, more interested in getting an answer to the reason he’d asked her to listen in the first place than dwell on his own roller coaster of emotions recently. or the continuing roller coaster ride of emotions he’d been stuck on for the last four years, seemingly either unable to get off or purposefully torturing himself by refusing to.

“yeah, give it a go. it’s a good fit sonically. you’ve just got to convince them to take such a late addition,” the woman said with a shrug. “but clean up the percussion a little bit. it gets lost in itself.” ash assumed their conversation would end there before she quirked her head at him, one hand on her hip in a stance that prepared ash to be questioned. he wasn’t prepared for what that question was going to be, though. “i don’t want to be nosy, but did someone break your heart recently? you’re pretty easy to see through.”

ash was too exhausted to keep his expression from revealing the surprise at her inquiry. that really wasn’t any of her business and he didn’t consider them close enough to discuss that. they weren’t anything more than work colleagues and ash wasn’t even one for discussing his love life with his closest friends, but he wasn’t blunt enough to say that. she had good intentions, he was sure, but anyone who had sat in on writing sessions with him more than once or heard drafts of his songs should know he didn’t like discussing the details of his private life beyond what he willingly laid out in his songs. it wasn’t how he worked. too many people were under the impression they knew his life already for him to want to voluntarily share the truth with anyone not involved.

“nope.” he forced a smile and a nonchalant shrug similar to her own. he got a dubious look in return and ash swiveled in his chair to face the computer screen again. “really, no. but thanks for listening. and the percussion, i’ll fix that. thanks for the tip. i’ll send it over to some people and hopefully there’s still time to add it.”

he wasn’t lying to her. no one else had done the breaking. he couldn’t blame anyone else for something he’d done himself.

he’d thought his heart had broken so many times, but it was still there, beating and hoping in the background, even when he was the one doing his damnedest to fracture it beyond repair.

#fmdverification #any time i write about ash and an instrument i end up having to delete chunks because it sounds questionable #as it should. ashiano otp #piash #please don't use this as an example of how to do a writing verification it's a really bad example #arguably The Worst Example #&& queued

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presumenothing · 8 years ago

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past time

aka I have too many AUs, and also the Kaito & Shiho tag now has one (1) work on AO3 now, yay

People never think to look up, do they? (Or: two conversations, years apart.)

(AO3) (FFN)

The rustle of leaves catches Shiho by surprise.

That in itself is unusual - she’s always alert to her surroundings, and perhaps it might’ve been excessive for anyone else, but in her case it really isn’t.

So when an unfamiliar figure swings up onto the tree branch opposite to the one she’s sitting on, it takes her a moment to register that he’d said something. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone up here, I’ll just – ”

The boy (a year younger than her, probably Japanese descent, Shiho estimates automatically, trying to calm her racing heartbeat) is about to jump back off the branch before she speaks, startling both of them. “No, it’s fine, you can stay.”

“Really?” He gives her a blinding grin when she nods, and settles in - with enviable ease, Shiho can’t help but think. The trees lining the grounds have made a passable sanctuary for her thus far (people never think to look up, not even in a school ostensibly for gifted children), but even then she’s always wary of falling.

She almost regrets the decision not half a minute later, though, when he speaks again. “Enjoying the afternoon sun?"

“Not particularly,” Shiho answers anyway, leaning against the tree trunk. “You?”

“Nah, I’m definitely a night person. Just needed some fresh air after all those classes, you know?” He tugs at the collar of the school uniform with a faint grimace.

Shiho doesn’t, actually – her schedule is far from the usual even here, most of it taken up by research and graduate lessons with the professors.

“Right, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Kuroba K – sorry, Kaito Kuroba, I should say?” he continues with a sheepish grin, apparently unoffended by her silence. “Still getting used to that, my name sounds really weird in that order.”

“It’s an adjustment period,” she says noncommittally, because - well, it’s not as if she has much experience in the matter. Codenames don’t exactly differ across the world, after all. “I’m Shiho Miyano.”

“I know,” comes Kuroba’s answer, and that’s unexpected. “We’re in the same class for organic chemistry, right?”

Shiho pages through her memories quickly - she isn’t taking the class herself, of course, only helping her supervisor with it as part of her PhD qualifications. “You transferred in recently?”

“Yeah, a month ago. My mum wanted me to come to the States with her, and this school was recommended by a good friend of hers.” He pauses briefly. “Also, I’m quite sure my old school was just about ready to kick me out after I blew up the chemistry lab twice.”

Shiho does look up at that one. “Twice,” she repeats, half in disbelief – she remembers seeing Kuroba’s work in class now, and it had consistently been above average if one ignored the haphazard doodling in the margins and occasional creative answers. Certainly well above catastrophic-lab-incident standards, if she were to judge.

“On purpose,” he clarifies unhelpfully, a glint of mischief clear in his eyes. “Well, mostly on purpose. I was bored, and it wasn’t anything permanent at any rate... well, except for the glitter. I’m not sure Komoe-sensei ever completely got that out of her hair.”

Glitter? she thinks, but silently this time, because she’s not quite sure she wants to know the story behind that particular statement. “Well, I don’t think boredom will be an issue for you here, given the flexibility of the curriculum.”

The sudden excited grin on Kuroba’s face suggests that he does, in fact, agree. “Yeah, I definitely haven’t been bored so far - I mean, some of the teachers are boring, but I guess that’s the same everywhere. Though I could use some help with linear algebra, if you’re taking that class?”

“No, I’m biochem,” Shiho answers shortly – she knows the subject well enough, of course, but the last thing she needs is someone poking around in curiosity. “You’re engineering, I assume?”

Fortunately, he takes the hint to change the topic. “No, I want to be a magician! I’m working on a card gun for design class now, actually, although the mechanism keeps refusing to work out right.”

“Card gun?” she asks, interested despite herself.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be able to shoot cards with it, but – ” there’s a crinkle of paper as he takes a sheaf of paper from a book she could’ve sworn he hadn’t been holding earlier, “ – here, I have the drafts if you want to take a look?”

“I wouldn’t be much help with that, I’m afraid,” she says before he can hand over the blueprints, and nods at the book instead. “What’re you reading?”

He holds out the book to her, and it takes her several seconds to make the mental switch to Japanese. “Lupin versus Holmes?” she reads from the cover, raising an eyebrow.

“Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes, actually, but Holmes is overrated anyway,” he quips with a grin. “Do you want to borrow my copy? It’s worth the read, I promise.”

Shiho hesitates – it’d be good practice for her Japanese, which she’s rarely had the chance to use for the past few years since coming here, but on the other hand –

Three things happen almost simultaneously in the next moment: the bell rings, Kuroba visibly startles, and the book reappears on her lap with a puff of smoke.

“Right, that’s my cue,” he says with a glance at his watch, while she’s still mute with surprise. “The professor’s gonna kill me if I’m late for physics again, I think.”

He’s already jumped down from the branch in one nimble movement that would’ve easily sprained Shiho’s ankle (or worse) before she finally manages to respond. “Wait, your book – ”

“Don’t worry about it, you can return it next time we meet! I’ve practically memorised it by this point anyway.” He waves at her with a cheeky grin. “See you around, Miyano!”

Kuroba dashes off around the corner of a building before she can figure out a reply, but - well, Shiho has never been one to say no to a good book, much as she hasn’t made time to read for longer than she can care to remember.

Then again, she’s free for the next two hours while the maintenance crew deals with the spill in an adjacent lab that’d sent her out here in the first place, so she opens the book and begins to read.

On the eighth day of last December, Mon. Gerbois, professor of mathematics at the College of Versailles, while rummaging in an old curiosity-shop, unearthed a small mahogany writing-desk which pleased him very much on account of the multiplicity of its drawers…

(He’d been overly optimistic, of course - she finishes the book quickly enough, but doesn’t get the chance to return it when she’s called back to Japan that very weekend.)

–––

Two muted voices echo faintly as Ai heads down the corridor, snatches of conversation from beyond the slightly ajar doors of the Kudo library.

“ – already told you to be careful – ”

“ – like to see you try piloting a hang glider in this weather, tantei-kun – ”

Both fall suddenly silent when she pushes the door open. (Honestly. She’d already deduced what was going on several heists ago, did they need to look so surprised?)

She walks in anyway, shaking her head with a sigh. “Here, I brought some extra medical supplies for – ”

Ai’s thoughts are abruptly derailed as she gets a proper look at the third person in the room, and the name slips out without her realising it. “Kuroba?”

And the Kaitou Kid, face unobscured by the shadow of a hat brim for once, blinks. “…Miyano?”

(…so, okay, Ai had known that Edogawa was helping Kid, but she clearly hadn’t figured out the whole truth. Though, judging from the look of shock mirrored on the thief’s face, she hadn’t been the only one.)

Edogawa freezes mid-movement, and Ai has the rare privilege of witnessing his complete, utter confusion. “You two… know each other?”

“I thought you looked familiar, but I figured that it must’ve been some weird coincidence. I mean, what were the chances?” Kuroba - who happens to be the Kaitou Kid, apparently, she cannot even believe her life right now - gives her the same blinding grin she remembers from a lifetime ago. “Guess I should’ve known better, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have taken kindly to you asking, at any rate.” Ai takes a page from his book, and doesn’t bother answering Edogawa either - the detective can afford to stew for a while longer. “Still a Lupin fan, I see?”

The familiar top hat appears in Kuroba’s hand in a small puff of smoke, and he tips it at her theatrically, still with that look of amusement on his face. “I always wondered how that book ended up back in my room afterwards.”

“There was a reason I was sent to that school specifically.” Ai shrugs as she strides forward, placing the box she’d been carrying on the table between the pair. “I returned to the labs nearby several times, it was more a matter of finding an opportunity to slip away. Though I suppose I owe you one for taking that long to return it.”

Kuroba appears to think over that for a moment, before glancing to where his sleeve has been cut neatly away to reveal a gash across his upper arm. “Patch me up, and we call it even?”

Ai considers the wound - bullet graze, relatively large caliber, probably matched the deleted reports of snipers that she’d helped to track down previously - before nodding. “Get me a basin of warm water, would you, Edogawa-kun?” she asks, finally glancing over to where the detective is still opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

(Unbeknownst to her, a certain magician thief shudders for reasons he is not completely sure of.)

“Don’t worry, tantei-kun, the answer probably isn’t half as sinister as what you’re probably imagining,” Kuroba adds airily, just as Edogawa looks like he’s about to protest. “Though I’ll leave it up to the ojou-san here to decide whether to tell you.”

Edogawa gives them both a vaguely disgruntled look as he leaves, and Ai gets to work, picking up the tweezers she’d brought over.

“So I take it that you - ” Kuroba hisses sharply as she removes a piece of debris lodged in the wound, “ - are the scientist that tantei-kun mentions every now and then?”

“I would assume so, yes,” Ai quips dryly. “Better than ‘great white flying target’, if you ask me.”

“Hey, I volunteered for this job before I even met tantei-kun,” Kid objects, sounding mildly offended.

“Which is a testament to your soundness of mind, I’m sure,” Ai mutters under her breath.

Kuroba has the temerity to chuckle at that. “Seriously, I even told you about the card gun, I can’t believe it took you this long to put the pieces together. Though I got carried away with the customisations and ended up submitting my modified smoke bombs for class in the end.”

“Even if I’d realised the connection, I would’ve just assumed that both you and Kid had taken inspiration from a common source.” Ai reaches over to tilt the table lamp so she can see better. “And you’re certainly one to talk, given that you already know who Edogawa-kun is.”

“True,” Kuroba says with a wince - whatever painkillers he’d taken earlier were probably wearing off, Ai thinks.

They both fall into silence after that, until Ai straightens, satisfied that she’d removed all the debris. “Besides, if you’d actually gotten as far as showing me the prints, I’d probably have told you to patent the design, and then where would Kaitou Kid be?”

Kuroba is still laughing at that when Edogawa returns with the basin of water and two clean towels, a confused expression on his face.

(“I was lying, you know,” Kuroba tells her as his gaze flicks over the wall of screens in the surveillance van, showing various exits of the hideout they’re planning to raid. “Before.”

“Oh, for…” Shiho shakes her head as she checks the barrel of the Glock that Agent Jodie had lent her. “Do we really have to discuss this now, Kid?”

They all use the moniker when he helps on these missions, but it’s very much Kuroba that grins back up at her - there’s a distinct difference. “I’ve never had problems with linear algebra, although I don’t like it much.”

“So what, you were planning to play dumb if I’d agreed to help you?” A glance at Kuroba’s expression confirms her hypothesis - or possibly that he just hadn’t thought that far. “And you already knew I was up that tree, I assume.”

“Guilty as charged,” he answers in a singsong tone, card gun appearing in one hand with a quick movement. “Shall we go, then?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Shiho says, deadpan, as she ducks out of the van’s door ahead of him. “And I wasn’t actually taking that org chem class, if you must know.”

She hears him pause briefly at that one, and there’s a note of realisation in his voice when he replies. “Don’t tell me you were the one who deducted five marks for handwriting on my assignments?”

“No, that was one of the other grad students.” Shiho heads over to where Kudo is talking to several FBI agents, though she does wait for Kuroba to catch up before continuing. “I would’ve deducted ten, at least.”

Beside her, Kuroba splutters in indignation.)

as far as I can tell, the Japanese translation does actually have the title as ルパン対ホームズ, literally “Lupin vs Holmes”, unlike both English and the original French.

not terribly alternate as far as AUs go, though I leave the details up to your imagination – Mystery Train goes somewhat differently in this universe, of course, but otherwise the DC timeline thus far remains mostly similar. on the MK side of things, Kaito presumably returned to Japan for high school when he learned about Toichi being Kid, and while he did keep in contact with Aoko while overseas, their relationship would likely (and unfortunately) not be as close as in canon, leaving him freer to act as Kid. (if it wasn't obvious, the school was recommended by Vermouth – ostensibly to keep Chikage and Kaito safe from Snake and co., but who knows when it comes to her, honestly...)

and allow me to yet again link two stunning pieces of relevant art from aoi/aonosubete, because this artist owns my soul by this point, seriously

#dcmk #detective conan #kaitou kid #kuroba kaito #haibara ai #miyano shiho #magic kaito #fanfiction #mine #this is the AU i mentioned having thought of for shinichi and shiho a while back #but then i thought it might be fun to do it with kaito instead? it was #...i am too tired to proofread this closely so just hope there aren't any glaring errors that i've missed?#also my published wordcount for march is now officially past 10k #subtracting the previously written stuff #i am honestly amazed at myself?#past time

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devourer--of--books · 8 years ago

Text

blinking in the starlight

I am so excited to tell you that I actually did it. You may ask yourself, what is this crazy bitch up to now?

So, as some of you might know, during Tagatha Ship Week 2016 I originaly had planned to do a Tangled AU one shot. It turned out messy because I had to rush the whole thing to be able to write it in one day, so that draft was deleted. However, I decided to go down this road and write an actual multichapter story. I think it will be about 12 chapters long? Maybe a few bonus chapters along the way? Not sure yet. What I do know is that updates will be slow, perhaps once a month? I keep all information on progress and updating on my profile at FF.net (https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4592257/), so if you wanna know what I’m up to or when the next chapter will be posted, check it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own The School For Good And Evil series and all characters belong to Soman.

Warning: As always, language, because I have a sailor’s mouth. Not half as many as in “if you’re not the bride”, but stil.

- Cece

Caged Birds Don’t Sing

Happy ever after is a little more boring than Sophie thought it would be.

As she finished another book, the blonde young beauty couldn’t help but frown. Yet again, the princess rode off into the sunshine, with a dashing prince, to a ginormous diamond castle, and guess what, “they lived happily ever after, the end”.

How… unoriginal.

Sitting at the big chair placed at the center of the library, Sophie let mind wander around a bit. How about a plot twist? “Princess decides to travel the world”? Or maybe “princess makes new friends and throws the sickest party ever after”?

Not that she was ungrateful.

Sophie had everything one could wish for. She lived in a magnificent luxurious tower, with maids that attended to her every will, all kinds of beauty cosmetics to make sure her wellbeing was a hundred per cent perfect, and she had the most handsome prince in the world.

She had fancy groom-rooms, tons of jewels and dresses, all the shoes a woman could ever hope to own. She was beautiful, rich, charming and she lived the dream. She was a real life princess.

It’s just… When she read about in her fairytale books it always seemed a little bit… greater? After all, she couldn’t even remember most of her own story. She was just a child when it happened.

“Lady Sophie?” her personal maid, Kiko, called by the door. “It’s time for your bath”.

Kiko had been assigned to her a few years ago. She was a little darling thing and definitely an upgrade from that annoying Beatrix girl that used to occupy that position. Beatrix always had that small smirk on her face and the only thing worse than her attitude was that look she sometimes sent Sophie. It made the princess’ blood boil.

Blue eyes filled with pity. Ugh.

Yes, Kiko, the sickly sweet maid that could never look her in the eye was definitely an upgrade.

“Oh” Sophie raised her eyebrow, slowly looking away from her book while lazily uncrossing her long legs “Is it lavender or enchanted bubbles?”

“W-which one would your highness prefer?” Kiko asked quietly, eyes looking downwards to Sophie’s velvet pink heels.

“Both” She answered uninterested, dismissing the shy maid.

The same thing, every day.

Wake up, morning routine, breakfast, free time, lunch, free time, lessons, free time, afternoon routine, free time, guard switch, dinner, free time, night routine, sleep. Wake up, morning routine, breakfast …

Ugh.

You would think that for someone with so much free time, Sophie would have found something to do with it. The thing was, it was called free time, but there was a surprisingly lack of freedom involved.

No matter how many times Rafal explained it was for her own safety, Sophie couldn’t help but wonder what could lie beyond the enormous walls of her tower.

It was a dangerous world, all kinds of sorcerers and black-magic-users could attack her, bandits could get her, she could even end up as a meal to some savage beast, bla bla bla. She got it, really.

But she had already read and re-read every book on the library, no matter how many books her prince would bring her. Her maids took care of the tower, no need to cook, or clean or anything. The gallery could only fit so many portraits and Sophie knew every single detail by heart.

She would ask him when he got home. After dinner, tomorrow.

But tomorrow seemed so far away…

“Sophie?!” The rude exclamation echoes from the main room, and Sophie’s mood turns south very fast.

Aric, the main general of her guard.

Also known as the bane of her existence.

How many times she complained to Rafal about him? Her prince would always dismiss her frustration, presenting her a new jewel as a peace offering, and while Sophie appreciated the gifts, she would trade them all for a chance to kick Aric’s sorry behind all the way down from her tower.

Aric was rude, bad mannered, scary as hell and his only joy came from working the other guards to death and annoying the daylights out of her.

“Lady Sophie, Aric” she gritted her teeth, forcing a polite smile, as she entered the room. “Know your place, will you?”

“My apologies” he smirked, mock bowing, violet eyes never leaving hers.

As always, Aric was dressed in his sweaty black and green uniform, wolfy smile in place and looking at her with that superior attitude that pushed her buttons in all the wrong ways.

Sophie suppressed the instinct of backing away from him, knowing that acknowledging his attempt to intimidate her would only serve to amuse him.

“Apology accepted,” She granted eyeing the general cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Master Rafal sent a falcon today. He’s coming for lunch tomorrow, so the guard switch will be done earlier” Aric explains, toying with the small dagger he carried in his sleeve. “Didn’t he tell you, lady?

"No.” Sophie answers, crossing her arms while transferring her weight to one leg “Why would he do that?”

“Does it matter? Ask him yourself.”

“You should stop this attitude, Aric. A little bird by the window told me you were late to work yesterday. Careful, or…”

Aric tensed up, his right hand gripping the silver dagger.

“Or what? I’m pretty sure where I go is my business. You, however, should watch your step…”

“Is this a threat?” Sophie asks, her voice low and incredulous.

A shiver goes down her spine as in a swift movement Aric throws the dagger.

The sharp blade shatters the window, the shards barely missing the blonde waves of her hair and the general smirks while admiring his work.

“I thought I saw a bird. They’re common at this time of the year. Interesting, I keep seeing them near the windows, don’t you agree that they should know their place and mind their business? Accidents do happen, could be dangerous.”

Sophie doesn’t say a thing, green eyes glaring at him.

“Don’t forget to close the curtains; It will take a while to get that window repaired and Master hates birds inside the tower” Aric taunts her in his way out.

Kiko and some other maid appear to clean up the shattered glass, but Sophie doesn’t stay to see the damage. It’s everywhere, and the curtain is probably ripped. Great.

She’s partly furious and partly terrified, her hands shaking like a leaf.

That tended to be the effect Aric caused every single time he went within a ten-meter radius from her.

Not that Rafal would ever let anything happen to her. He promised.

And soon enough Rafal would be back home. Then she could ask him.

Ask him to take her with him the next time he left.

Sophie is hopeful.

She always is this time of the year. Is near her birthday (tomorrow) and Rafal always visits on her birthday. Ever since he rescued her he visits every two months or so (running kingdoms must keep him busy), but he always stays an extra day or two for her birthday.

Usually she goes straight to bed after her night routine, but today, Sophie sits by her bedroom’s window.

It’s a beautiful view. The forest that surrounds the tower looks emerald green during the day, but Sophie liked it better during the night, when the moon and the stars color the trees in shades of grey and silver. Beyond the trees Rafal told her there are kingdoms, full of evil kings and witches.

Sophie doesn’t doubt him, of course not, but she can’t help but think that it was quite a waste for such beautiful woods to be infested with beasts and bandits and for such evil kingdoms to produce such an alluring light.

Oh yes, the lights.

The beautiful lights that came into view a few days after her birthday, at the beginning of spring. At night, one by one, the lights colored the sky, orange, yellow and gold lit up the sky, irradiating warm and comfort.

Rafal told her it was a festival. The witches set fire to the sky so all the birds would be burnt and fall to the ground.

And that’s why she should stay in her tower, where she was safe. So no harm would ever come to her.

My little bird, Rafal called her.

Because Sophie was a princess for a reason, you see.

She could sing.

But unlike any other singer, she did not sing songs. Oh no. Sophie sang people.

Rafal, mostly.

Everyone had a special tune, an essence. Her prince asked her to sing his at least once every time he visited. He told her that his tune reminded him of the birds that sang every day outside his window when he was a child.

That it made him feel young.

Sophie did not understand what kind of bird could sing such a melancholic melody. Rafal would laugh and then whisper in her ear:

“Blue falcons, Sophie. They are native from my kingdom.”

She wanted to ask more.

But she didn’t, and the information wasn’t offered either.

Tonight, sitting by the window, bathing in moonlight, Sophie tried to remember.

Rafal’s song was slow and husky, in a dark and dangerous pace.

Her mother’s song used to be soft and sophisticated, like an expensive velvet dress.

But Sophie couldn’t remember her own song.

She sang it every day as a child. But, like magic, she forgot.

Rafal told her it might have been a scar from pos-trauma. From her fairytale.

Sophie doesn’t remember when it was exactly, but she might have been around ten.

She lived in a luxurious house in a big estate. Her mother had inherited from a wealthy uncle or something. She loved Sophie’s voice, told her to sing every day. Her father wasn’t much of a fan.

One day, a dark old wizard attempted to kidnap her, so he could sell her voice for money to buy more ingredients for his potions. Rafal was passing nearby and heard the fighting between her father and the wizard.

Her mother hid her in a closet. Told Sophie she should stay there.

Sophie remember screwing her eyes shut and singing her song quietly.

After what felt like hours, someone came to her rescue.

A dashing young man, with shiny white hair and intense eyes greeted her. Told her that her parents were dead, but he was a prince and could keep her safe.

Even back then, Rafal was gorgeous.

And she lived happily ever after ever since.

Tired, Sophie decided that maybe she should have gone to bed: Now, she was tired and Rafal liked her better when she looked her best.

Stupid Aric.

Sophie’s high heels clicked against the expensive dark marble floor as she paced back and forth, her hand gripping the hairbrush hard enough that her knuckles were turning white.

He should already be here.

The guard switch was done earlier. Aric was supposed be here already. If Rafal arrived and he wasn’t here, his mood would be ruined.

Then, there was no way for Sophie to ask him her birthday gift.

To leave with him.

Oh, she was going to kick Aric out of this tower.

As soon as he got here.

Distracted by her angry-pacing Sophie did not hear the sound of the door opening.

A cold hand gripped her shoulder and she screamed on the top of her lungs, tripping on her heels. Instinctively, Sophie pointed her hairbrush to the stranger, wielding it like one would a sword.

“Woah.” Rafal exclaimed, backing away, hands up in mock surrender. His serious composure was intact as always, but his eyes looked amused. He offered her a hand.

“Hello.” Sophie answered, taking up on his offer “What do you find so funny?”

“Your brush” He told her, brow raised “What would you have done if I was actually an intruder? Get back or I’ll brush your hair?”

“Well, if the intruder was you, it would have worked. Your hair looks like it hasn’t seen one in weeks.” She noticed, taking up on his appearance.

As always, Rafal was dressed in a black outfit, detailed in gold and red, the huge cape trailing behind him, made out of grey-ish feathers. However, his hair was a mess, differing from the usual soft spikes it was usually sported in.

Rafal lifted a brow.

“Really?”

He walked in the direction of the giant mirror in Sophie’s room. His hands fondled with the white locks, sealing them in place.

“Aric usually remembers me to do this before I come inside.” He tells her, frowning “Where’s Aric?”

Sophie can feel the dread of telling him the general is not there and she decides that no, Aric isn’t going to ruin this.

“He must be checking on something since guard switch was done earlier. You can look for him later.”

“Sophie” Rafal narrows his eyes “Where’s Aric?”

Plan B it is then.

“You haven’t even wished me happy birthday yet.”

Her prince seems to calm down a bit.

“I’m sorry, my little bird.” He approaches “Happy birthday.”

“It’s quite alright” She answers, the fake tears drowning her green eyes.

“Please, don’t cry, Sophie.” He hugs her close and whispers compliments on her ear. “I have a gift for you”

“Do you? I was thinking about asking you…”

“Later, my little bird. For now, I’m hungry.” Rafal says, backing away, and Sophie follows him on his heels.

“It’s kind of important, Rafal, and…”

Her prince does not hear and she stops trying to catch up with him.

“So, you said you had a gift for me?”

The two of them are sitting in the library; Rafal is sipping his coffee (as he always did after lunch), seated at the big chair in the center of the room while Sophie nervously plays with a book, not quite looking him in the eyes, but standing directly in front of him.

“I do” He answers.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small box. A ring box.

Sophie eyes go wide.

“Yes”

“I’m afraid, my little bird, this is not that kind of ring”

Sophie’s excitement dies when she notices her prince’s serious demeanor. He puts the mug down, leaning forward, not once breaking eye contact.

“This is a safety ring, Sophie. It’s not a toy. You’ll wear it every day, 24/7. You won’t be taking it off for showers, for beauty treatments or for sleep. If you take it off, I’ll know you’re in danger and I’ll show up immediately. You’ll most likely never have to, but just in case, so we won’t have a repeat of today’s hairbrush incident”

He pulls Sophie’s hand away from the book, and slowly, slides the ring up her finger.

The piece itself was probably one of the most beautiful pieces she ever got from him, and that’s saying a lot. The ring shines in pale gold, dark reflexes running along the metal. Underneath, the words “True Love” could be read in silver. It was very light and delicate, but, somehow, Sophie felt like it yet another thing weighting her down.

“Happy birthday, my little bird. Now, how about you sing me my song again?”

“Thank you, Rafal”

Sophie finds herself singing his song four times in a roll. She quite enjoys the pleased look on his face, as he closes his eyes and lies back on the chair, expression twisted in the rare form of joy.

“Now, my little bird, I need to talk to Aric.” He excuses himself, heading to the door.

Sophie gets up from her chair so fast Rafal actually stops walking. She throws herself in front of him, blocking his way, sheepish smile and hopeful eyes.

“Remember that thing I wanted to talk to you about?” She batted her eyelashes at him, pouting.

“Oh, right”

“Well, since it is my birthday, and I now have a way to stay safe 24/7” She told him carefully “I was thing that maybe you could take me with you when you leave this time? To see our kingdom. I thought it might be a good experience for me, since one day I’m going to be a queen and…”

Rafal’s stoic expression and unreadable eyes were killing her.

“No.”

“But I…”

“No, Sophie.” He said firmly, trying to walk around her.

“Why not?” She asked, grabbing his arm, pulling at his sleeve.

“Are you not happy here, Sophie?”

“Of course I am…”

“Because if you’re not, I can arrange for you to live in a half-assed cottage in the middle of the woods, living out of nothing but berries and water, vulnerable to every single wizard and beast on the forest!” Rafal snapped.

Sophie suddenly lets go of his sleeve, her face losing color as real tears threaten to roll down her face.

“You wouldn’t”

“You’re right; I wouldn’t, because you can’t handle yourself out there. You’re weak, Sophie! Weak like a freaking chicken waiting to be somebody’s next meal! Don’t you understand, no one will ever care for your safety the way I do!”

She lets him walk around her, and as he finally reaches the door, Rafal signs, not once looking back:

“I won’t be home for dinner. Tell Aric I’ll be back in two weeks.”

She’s quiet.

“And Sophie” He adds, “I don’t wanna hear another word about you thinking about leaving this tower ever again”.

The door closes with a soft noise. Almost as soft as the quiet sobs she lets out as soon as he leaves.

Sophie spends another night sitting by her window.

She warns Kiko to let Aric know Rafal’s message, but after dinner, her maid tells her Aric never showed up to work. She also asks if Sophie need anything but the blonde doesn’t feel like dealing with Kiko’s over sweetness at the moment.

As she stares at the forest, Sophie wonders if it would be best if she left.

Not forever, of course. Just for some time. Away from Aric, from Kiko, from her maids, from the guards…

From Rafal.

Her ring shines in the moonlight.

“Happy fucking birthday.”

Language, Sophie. She can hear Beatrix’s voice taunting her in an old memory of her etiquette lessons.

This is her mouth. Her window. Her bedroom.

Her cage.

She’ll curse as much as she wants.

…Besides is not like anyone can hear her. The walls are thick and it’s late. The only ones awake are the guards posted on the staff levels and in the forest.

A quiet song is audible, and Sophie turns her head down to look at the small bird that sat by her window. She opens it with extra care not to scare the bird away. Upon closer inspection, she can tell it is tired. It’s night after all. Birds are usually day-time creatures.

The song is sad and Sophie can feel it tugging in her heartstrings.

She tries to touch the little animal, but as soon as she reaches for him, it flies away.

Sophie tries not to feel jealous.

It’s a bird. They’re supposed to be free creatures. That’s why Rafal won’t let her built a cage for them to keep her company.

Then why don’t you ever let me go…?

Sophie shakes her head. Nonsense. Rafal is just protecting her. He loves her.

She retracts from the window, deciding that yes, just for today she’ll leave it open. Rafal wouldn’t approve, but if Rafal wanted the window closed then he could come home and close it himself.

Looking back, if Sophie had indeed closed the window, our history might have gone in a completely different direction. Fate has a funny way of intervening in our lives.

It’s four AM when Sophie hears it.

It’s not very loud, but the soft sounds reach her ears and wake her up. She looks around for the source of the noise, when her eyes lie in her open window.

There’s hook on her window sill. Probably linked to a rope. With an evil bandit coming up to her bedroom, where no one could hear her.

And if he climbed up the tower and got through the guards, what could she do…

Her eyes darted to the ring.

She could call Rafal, he would protect her!

… but then he would be completely right, wouldn’t he? She was just some damsel in distress, like a princess in her fairytale books.

She moved her hand away from the ring.

“You’re weak, Sophie!”

No, this is something she could do by herself.

She walked slowly, making no sound, to the other side of the room, crouching near beauty supplies where the shadows were darker to help blend her blonde hair in the moonlit place.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the intruder sneaked into the bedroom.

Covered in a dark cape, hood covering most of their features the intruder drew a bow, arrow in position, while scanning the room. Sophie held her breath, not daring to move a single muscle.

The bow was put down a few seconds later, returned to their back, as was the arrow. She noticed the intruder carried a big satchel and walked around in heavy hunting boots.

Then, they signed.

“Finaly”

To Sophie’s surprise, the intruder was apparently a woman. At least, they sounded like one.

With all her attention on the so-called woman, who was now walking around the bedroom, Sophie nearly missed a new character’s arrival.

“I don’t think so” the new voice said.

It belonged to a man, about as tall as Rafal. But there’s where all similarities ended.

This man wore a military based uniform, much like her guards’, but instead of black and green, his was light blue and gold, a glowing sword attached to his belt, his feet covered by hunting boots. His features, while still immensely handsome, were rounder than Rafal’s and the strangers hair was several tones darker than her prince’s was, more like her golden sun-kissed tresses.

“You simply don’t know when to let it go, do you?” The first intruder questions the man, arrow ready.

“I told you I would hunt you down. I’ve been told quite a few times that I am a great hunter.” He answers, wielding his sword.

“By whom? Your fangils?” The caped woman mocked.

Despite drawing out weapons, they didn’t show signs of attacking any time soon, the banter between the two getting to a level Sophie would almost label flirty.

This was going too far. If these intruders decided to go at each other’s throats, then Sophie would be doomed. Again, she felt tempted to take off the ring…

No, she just had to do some quick thinking.

The first stranger was a priority, she had a long range weapon and was closer to her, so Sophie had to take her down first. But how…

Her eyes laid on her beauty supplies. Of course!

As quietly as she could, Sophie sneaked her hand to grab a small jar.

Imported from Maidenville, sleeping-rose’s petals.

Great to get rid of under eye bags and it’s tea had anti-insomnia properties.

Also, good for knocking people out in a few seconds or so through inhalation.

Please work.

The jar collided with the front of the hood, knocking the woman to her knees, shards of glass everywhere.

“What the actu…alll…?”

She tried to get up but the petals did their magic. Limp on the floor.

On the other side of the room, the man lowered his sword.

“If this is a trick, it won’t work, witch.” He threatened, but worry was clear in his voice. “Witch?”

He was coming near and Sophie started to panic. He would see the petals and it wouldn’t work unless he got really close to the woman’s face.

Okay, now what to do, what to do, what to…

Is that a brush?

“What would you have done if I was actually an intruder? Get back or I’ll brush your hair?”

Sophie would show him.

With all her might, she threw the hairbrush at the stranger. It hit the center of his forehead and Sophie swore she could see his blue eyes roll back as he too fell down, face first on the floor.

So. That happened.

She did it. Holy… she actually did it.

Who’s week now, Rafal? I’ve got two intruders in my bedroom, and you know who neutralized them? Yours truly!

Oh, god, she couldn’t wait to take off the ring and summon Rafal! He would be so…

…Angry that she didn’t take it off when he expressly ordered her to do so.

And if Rafal got angry with her again then he would not even notice her skills. He would probably double the security and then her tower wouldn’t even have windows!

What to do then?

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andyastral · 5 years ago

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Thoughts on chapters

It’s best to be up to date in Straw before reading this. This is the first 9 chapters worth of authors notes.

This was a short chapter, and i had 18,000 words already written, but as time went on, the story evolved and changed from the direction it was going from. I had intended to just cut the entire Salem part out at this point, but wanted to bring in Tyrian, and couldn’t without bringing the rest of the plot into it.

Anyway, this was the last time in my mind that Qrow would be close to his right mind, and I kept it vague because I was toying around with different ideas on where I wanted the story to go, and it kept the mystery of what happened and who done it a big old question.

As well as yeah. It was a very violent attack that he needed surgery after a stomach pump. This kind of thing is shocking for everyone involved, family, friends, and of course the person that’s been hurt. Since Qrow doesn’t walk up for a good while, the focus had been on everyone else, his nieces and kids under his wing (ha), Ironwood, and Clover.

And I knew from the beginning I had to work hard to make sure I wasn’t implying that Clover was going to fix Qrow like how i’ve seen a lot of post noncon fics are like, that the victim needs an SO to make them feel complete and help them through it and later bang, when it’s just. Gross. For so many reasons. So it’s navigating Clovers feelings and actions as well.

I toyed for a while that Jaune was going to be the one to find out about Qrow’s attack, his semblance tipping him off when he was healing Qrow and I decided against that because I really didn’t want any extra drama with the kids.

As I wrote, James started to be a bigger character then he was supposed to be and I started to develop his and Qrow’s friendship. He’s incredibly shaken at not just the thought of Qrow dying, his violent injuries, coma- but the very implications he might have tried to kill himself because Qrow was very much a reason James didn’t kill himself after the accident and was a pillar of stability for him. Ironwood then places the case on Clover’s shoulders for several reasons. He can’t deal with it himself even if he wanted to, and that Clover would be every invested in making sure who ever did it was caught and he could trust Qrow in his care.

The Winter and Clover exchange was a late added part, and it was the start of writing the two of them as right hand man and woman- we don’t exactly know what Winters actual role is besides being a specialist and if her closeness is because she’s the winter maiden candidate or that’s how the ranking works. I also tried not to make her James glorified secretary- but I also didn’t want to add more characters then I should.

This was also the beginning of hinting that this attack could have been political,

Not informing the kids right away is something that i felt seemed right, because Clover is a fucking mess, and he didn’t want the girls to see their uncle dying and the last thing they saw was him struggling on life support. It’s a desision he shouldn’t have made for them, but once he’s stable Clover realizes how selfish his actions were. This is when Yang begins her own investigation off screen while Clover takes Ruby to the tundra to blow off steam and to take her away from the distress that is seeing her uncle comatose.

So they have a bonding moment, Robyn steps on toes by accident and Ruby shoots at her in warning. I very much enjoy Ruby as a character, she’s played up as innocent and a simple soul, but she is intelligent, a protégée and fucking brutal, she tore Tyrian’s tail off with no hesitation and I like characters like that. She’s also a young girl suddenly without her uncle that she relied on, and while Qrow doesn’t lead them, he supports them, and finding that she’s without his support at all terrifies her.

And her guilt over not trusting Ironwood with what they know about Salem eats at her, because in her mind, Ironwood has gone above and beyond earning her trust, but she’s traumatized from being betrayed by so many people- So her leap of faith in him I didn’t want to frame as ‘doing it because Qrow isn’t there to support her and her decisions’ but more she’s putting her trust in ironwood ater her talk with Clover about being a leader, and while she’s keeping secrets, it’s normal as a leader, but in this case, Ironwood deserved the truth.

So her telling him once she gets back was something that I didn’t plan to happen, but it did. It was the spiral that lead to me going through chapter 3 as I did- because Qrow was going to wake up in chapter 3, only his memory was gone for the afternoon he was attacked due to being drugged. I changed that.

The Clover and Elm scene is short, and I sort of want to develop the ace ops more, but put that on the back burning because I’m already judging so many characters. It’s to show that Clover is a mess, pushing himself and his teammate is stepping up to support him and get him to eat and rest.

Because Ironwood isn’t told about Salem being immortal and there being no way to just defeat her when they’re about to get attacked and he’s not high from adrenaline and painkillers from skinning his arm, he has time to process and adapt, then immediately informs Winter and Clover when he’s got something substantial.

Ruby also lied about one thing, and I’m not sure if anyone noticed it.

This also leads to Clover having very little sleep, and goes to see Qrow. In the original draft Qrow was going to wake up as Jaune was healing him, and he had no memory of the attack and Clover told him what happened. he’s obviously shocked and confused. This was when I didn’t know where i was going with the story, and there were drafts where neo was going to come assassinate him, leading to Cinder and her being found out, to Tyrian coming to take advantage of Qrow being hospitalized to kill him.

But I settled on some dialogue that made me have to throw 13,000 words out the damn window. I thankfully recycled some of it, but it goes to show I’m a gardener kind of writer at heart. Clover asking Jaune if Qrow had enemies, and Jaune immediately saying Tyrian Callows- one search later, Clover has a brain storm and it snowballs from there.

I stuggled with this chapter a great deal because I had to make it believable that he would suspect that it was Callows and that he was in the City, and that someone had to be helping him. It all turned out to be a coincidence, but it worked out for me as Tyrian and Watts are taken in, and Salem’s army is no longer on it’s way so I can have the timeline to myself, bar of course the election.

Ironwood puts the alcohol away before he calls in Winter in particular, knowing her aversion to it.

Because Ruby had just proven her trust to ironwood, he’s more willing to listen to her, and when she mentions bringing Robyn in to help with the search and to get the people to help he considers the idea- and because it all did work out, he asks her to be his protégé, and wants to train her more in leadership, as well as knowing he can learn something from her in turn. They both care about Qrow a lot, and him being moved somewhere safer and thinking that they caught the attacker eases them considerably.

This is an accumulation of Clover not sleeping, barely eating and being exshausted, it factors into him beating Tyrians face in. Tyrian had been hoping it would be the General he was tilting with his words, but got Clover kicking his ass instead. The goal was to not just distablize mantle, but tilt the general to scare him into doing something stupid, something that in canon Salem does flawlessly. Without the Seer grim being there, getting destroyed offscreen. Out of Meta, they have no idea that Salem is coming, but she’s also called off the attack because she’s lost contact. So they’re not exactly sure, but since Watts and Callows are imprisoned they’re at ease, having no idea Cinder and Neo are in play.

But yeah, Clover looses his cool, and Marrow tries to stop him from beating a prisoner, and he accidently hurts him- breaking his trust in Clover and making him realize how completely frazzled he was.

Because i forgot what happened in season 3, Qrow implies that Ironwood was a recent addition to the inner circle- I’ve headcanoned that Ironwood was also an academy recruit and just built from there. By the time i rewatched it I had already wrote the scene, so just rolled with it. It’ weird that I had Clover ask about how he feels about the whole ozpin thing, out of everything else, I wasn’t good at conveying that Clover had been worried about the General’s well being, especially after he says if he was present he would have killed Callows for his words.

The thing is that with all these changes, the general has been able to keep a cool head and make RATION DESISIONS TM.

Clover getting to know the kids a little better and being true to his word in looking out for the kids is something I enjoy writing about, and something i want to keep in mind as things move forward. While he feels like he can’t replace Qrow, i never went into how they feel about clover.

I wanted to slowly hint at Nora and Ren seeing him as a paternal figure, even if they don’t do a lot of interacting in the show, and that Yang and Ruby aren’t the only people effected by his sudden attack- and fleshed out how Oscar felt about Qrow when the last real interaction they had was QROW PUNCHING THE POOR KID.

And the beginning of Yang approaching Clover was something i wanted from the beginning, but Clover was going to struggle but eventually be able to keep her from the truth. Only it didn’t work out.

So. One of the first chapters I did. And BOY.

I don’t have much to comment on for this one. I wondered for a while if it would be weird to have it as a light chapter, when Lazu was a suspect, but it worked out as much as it could, Clover and Qrow had their first kiss and Clover is a blushing school boy because i had the idea that he’s great being a flirt, but the moment Qrow flirts back or makes his own advances he’s a blushing school boy cause my favourite trope is a flirt getting the tables turned on them and not knowing what to do.

The bee’s were going to pretend to have a catfight over the bodyguard, but i decided for it to happen off screen. Lazu also locked the door on Qrow so he wouldn’t leave, and is a definite sleezey move and he needed Yang to bust him out.

I never got to convey that Lazu was a big sword buff before he recognizes harbinger before he recognizes Qrow- his declaration to find Qrow when he gets out is kinda typical for a criminal to yell at an arresting officer.

And Qrow and Clover go have dinner together, and it’s called their not date and it’s truly the beginning of them going from flirting to starting to consider something between them and growing closer outside of work.

Bad cop wrote itself- half of it from the old draft, and the latter part was Yang and Clover being cop buddies. Breaking in, then Lazu having his security find them immediately. He was an interesting character, Clover’s POV already paints him badly, and won’t consider that he’s being sympathetic to what happened to Qrow and suspects he was involved. He implies that he cares if Yang knows what happened to her uncle, and that he’s disgusted over what happened, and clover interoperates that he’s disgusted that Qrow was a rape victim unable to protect himself. Lazu genuinely wants to help- as well as clear his name and hinting of his empathy.

Due to Clover loosing time after going to talk to robyn and just needing support, Yang gets to the place early, and Junior gives her the files she asked for so she’ll leave her alone. What was going to happen was Yang and Clover were going to turn up and Juniors mother, Mama Bear, ambushes them because she’s sick of Yang pushing her baby boy around. It was cut in favour for Yang going to go beat Lazu’s shit in.

There isn’t a question that Yang was going to go kill him, and it’s not even brought up as a moral choice. She’s going to kill him, and Clover getting in the way and vouching for him stalls her, he get’s over whelmed and starts crying, and Clover comforts her. It looking like Qrow tried to kill himself is something that keeps coming up, because no one knows for certain if he did or not. Yang didn’t believe it, but after finding out Qrow was raped it’s now a possibility and she can’t take it anymore.

Lazu Mason was a hint to him. Lazu being lapis lazuli, a stone known for honour, wisdom and clairvoyance- his intelligence work and his security and his stress on his own honour, and Mason, aka a stone mason that’s been helping fix the wall.

Qrow finally wakes up, and Yangs internal thoughts was something that actually made me cry writing because holy shit the poor girl has had to grow up fast, and as a result has a bit of a mother hen complex. She’s good at giving emotional Support, and mature for her age, but she’s still 18 years old and like Ruby, she’s now without her uncle who has ALWAYS been there, even when he was intoxicated he was still there. She recognizes that he’s done for her and Ruby and Tai, and she’ll never not be grateful.

Qrow is confused and just thinks that Yang has woken from a nightmare and came to see hi, unable to comprehend that she’s 10 years older then she should be in his memories. So the conversation they have is offscreen where he’s confused about what year it is and treating her like a child. It’s offscreen because I was already spent from the first part, and I didn’t know how to go from there. So her coming out of the room shaken, and I left it up to Ironwood to help him remember a little more.

Also because i just didn’t want yang to have to do that. You all watch Steven universe? That’s what happens when a kid takes on adult problems like that- and Ironwood recognizes that Yang is too young to be dealing with that and already emotionally drained.

Moving on to Ironwood and Qrow, this is academy days Qrow, a teenager/ young adult that’s still heavily traumatized from a childhood and being adopted into the branwen tribe was a step UP from the house he was in. James is heartbroken at his friend’s state, and Qrow unintentionally opens up old wounds that hurt him, as well as highlight to James that his friend’s memory is in tatters.

The entire conversation convinces him that Qrow is too fragile in the state he’s in, and that he’s failed in protecting Qrow because he was hurt under his care, and the theory that he was attacked over the embargo is still on the table. Rereading and keeping the tin tyrant in mind.

And to tie Yang and Ironwood together in this, Ironwood had the sobriety coins printed for his friend but gave it to yang for her to give them to him because he didn’t know where they stood as friends. I called it sobering because Qrow being awake, and definitely not right in the head is a cold slap in the face for any celebrations.

Infested Tundra really is filler except for the part where Marrow and Clover make up, and we get a little more into Clovers mind. Blake being worried for Marrow is hinted at, and he just confronts Clover without fear when Yang doesn’t turn up, so he gives her the truth. I hinted that Blake was being standoffish to Clover, and her reasoning was she knew Marrow was upset with him but he didn’t tell her why.

Giant worm for fun, Blake and Ren being ninja friends and Ren being a little shit in dobbing on Blake and jus team building. Ruby taking some leadership is to show her lessons with ironwood are quickly rubbing off on her.

Also Ruby using her eyes over the sheer joy of learning her uncle was awake is just. Good shit. And I wish I wrote it better. Maybe one day i’ll do a rewrite, but that’s not on the table until Straw is DONE.

#there s only straw #authors notes #fellas is it egotistical to write 5 thousand word notes on your own work

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