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elisela · 3 years

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do you know how to do take-aways? (read on ao3) derek x stiles, g, 2.2k, au, meet cute, fluff, kid fic

prompt: call me for @tylerhunklin

"Hey Scott," Stiles says, jamming the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear so he can go back to typing with both his hands. "Desk duty is killing me, man, do you know how much of a backlog on paperwork there is in this place? Fucking ridiculous—"

"Stiles," Scott cuts in, “I have a call I need you to take."

Stiles sits up straighter and frowns. "We've got people out on patrol—"

Scott's laughter is warm and familiar in his ear. "No, it's not a patrol thing. I'm gonna transfer it over to you, okay? And I’m still coming to bring you dinner tonight."

"Roger," Stiles says, lazily snapping a salute despite Scott not being able to see him. There's a pause and a click, and he slips back into his professional mode—the one his dad definitely wishes he would use more often. "Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, this is Deputy Stilinski, how can I help you?"

"Hi," a small voice says. "Do you know how to do take-aways?"

He frowns, glancing over at the display on the phone screen. He'd think it was a joke except he doubts Scott would patch that through, and there's a childish tone to the voice that's difficult to fake. "Like subtraction?" he asks.

"Yeah," the voice says. "We learned it today but I don't remember and I gotta do my homework."

He presses his lips together so he doesn't laugh and slouches, relaxing a little in his seat. "Sure do," he says. "What's your name?"

"Talia Marie Hale," she says promptly, and Stiles scribbles it down on a piece of paper. "How do I do five take away five?"

"Can you put up five fingers?" he asks, and she makes a noise of assent. "Okay, now put five of them down." He hears her counting in the background and he copies the number the shows on his display underneath her name, then clicks over to run it through the system. When she stops, he says, "okay, how many fingers do you still have up?"

"I don't have any," she says. "How do you write that?"

"Zero," he says. "Do you know how to make that? It's like a big o." He waits another moment before asking, "is anyone in the house with you, Talia?"

"Yeah, my auntie," she says. "But I can't ask her questions while she's writing unless it's an emergency."

He can't catch himself before he laughs. "What made you decide to call 9-1-1?"

"My teacher said if you ever need help you can call," Talia says. "And I really need help. What's seven take away three?"

The second call comes in three days later. He's peeling apart his turkey sandwich and layering Doritos on it, providing much-needed crunch, when his phone rings through from dispatch. "Sup, Scott," he says, because Scott's the only one who ever bothers to call him directly.

"Sorry, Stiles, just me," Kira says. "I have someone on the line for you. Given that she asked for you by name, maybe you could remind her that this line is for emergencies and talk to her guardian?"

He presses the top slice of bread back onto his sandwich and leans back in his chair. "Got it," he says, and waits for the click. "That you, Miss Hale?"

"Hi, Mr. Deputy Stilinski," she says, tiny voice chipper in his ear. "I'm really confused about this take away."

"Hit me," he says, and she giggles.

"Ten take away six," she says. "I put up all my fingers but I got confused."

He hums and glances around his desk. "Are you with your auntie again today?" he asks, and when she confirms he adds, "do you have any toys at her house?"

"I'm at my house," she says. "Auntie watches me while Daddy's away for work, but she's busy writing her thesis so I can't go in the office."

"What's your dad's name?" he asks.

"Derek Samuel Hale," she says. "And my auntie's name is Cora Elizabeth Hale, and my other auntie is Laura Margaret Hale, and my dog's name is Ruffio Hale. Like from Hook. Auntie Cora named him because she said Daddy was scared of Hook when he was my age and she likes to make fun of him. Daddy tried to rename him but he only wants to answer to Ruffio now."

He writes it all down with a grin—even the unasked for information—and flicks at his mouse to wake his computer. "Your aunt sounds pretty cool," he says. "Okay, go get ten small toys and we'll get your math done. Blocks, if you have them."

He runs Cora's name through the system as he waits, just to make sure Talia isn't being left with someone irresponsible, and finds nothing of consequence. He keeps the list, though; he'll tell Talia not to call 9-1-1 anymore unless it's an emergency, and if she does, he'll get in touch with her dad then.

"Little red h-hen makes s-sop," Talia reads, and pauses. "That doesn't sound right. What's ou?"

"Spell the whole thing for me," he says, and corrects, "soup," when she does, spearing a piece of microwaved chicken and popping it in his mouth. He's quiet while she reads, only interjecting when she needs help, trying to eat silently in the background. She mostly spells the comprehension questions for him and he reads them to her, and when she finally thanks him and hangs up, he looks up to see his dad standing over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pops, I finished the file on—"

"When did your desk turn in to the homework helpline?" Noah asks, frowning, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"She only calls on my break, it's fine," he says, waving a hand to brush away the question before picking up the file. "Anyway—"

"Are her parents aware?"

"I left her aunt a voicemail on Monday," he says, and when his dad just looks at him, he sighs. "Fine, I left her a message last Monday and I haven't heard back, but she's not alone in the house, nothing bad is going on, she's just—lonely, I think." It's something he understands; after his mom passed away, he'd started calling Edith, who worked the front desk of the station when he was a kid, every night his dad wasn't home.

"Call again," Noah says, "and next time, make whoever is home with her aware of it. Once or twice is fine; every day for weeks is a problem."

"Here," he says, and Talia gives him the first letter promptly before pausing and spelling out the rest. "Good job. Um, said."

He might be extending their time on the phone, just a little. He likes talking to her; she reminds him of himself, her elementary drama always makes him laugh, and she likes asking him questions about being a deputy. So he’s not really looking forward to asking to speak to her aunt and put a stop to all this.

When she seems like she’s winding down, he sighs. “I know you’re not supposed to interrupt Auntie Cora,” he says, “but I was hoping to talk to her. Can you tell her Deputy Stiles is on the phone?”

“Oh, Auntie’s not here,” Talia says, and Stiles feels the beginning of a heart attack coming on before she adds, “Daddy’s home now. I’ll go get him.” He hears a thunk and then little feet running, her calling out for her Dad before there’s a muffled thump.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” he says, “this is Deputy Stilinski from BHSD—is this Mr. Hale?”

“This is,” he says, and if it’s possible to fall in love with a voice, Stiles does so right then. Soft and gentle, just a bit of concern, and he has to stop himself from running Derek’s name through the system to get a photo. His dad is already irritated with him for encouraging Talia’s calls (and, you know, for the whole stopping a bank robbery in progress thing that led to the injury that landed him on desk duty), he doesn’t need to add misuse of resources to the list. “Is everything okay?”

He takes a breath and explains, starts from the beginning and includes how he gave Talia his desk number so she would stop calling 9-1-1, makes sure to add that he’d tried to get ahold of Cora—and leaves out the fact he hadn’t called Mr. Hale directly even though he could have easily done so—and when he’s finished talking, he adds, “I didn’t mind, honestly, she just told me today that you were back in town and I wanted to let you know.”

There’s a pause where he holds his breath and hopes that Mr. Hale doesn’t think he’s a creep, or doesn’t demand to speak to the Sheriff—but he just lets out a breath and says “I am so sorry, I’ll absolutely talk to her, it won’t happen again.”

“I really didn’t mind,” he says again, because he also doesn’t want to get Talia into trouble. “She must get home from school at the same time my break starts because she always called at the same time, I wasn’t busy. Just making you aware.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hale says. “Deputy—” and isn’t Stiles going to have dreams where his name is said like that, low and grateful and—

“Sorry?” he asks, flushing when he realizes he’s lost track of the conversation. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I appreciate what you did,” Mr. Hale says. “I’ll talk to her.”

Talia doesn’t call the next day.

She shows up instead.

“Mr. Deputy Stiles!” he hears from the front, and his head snaps up to see a little girl with long dark hair looking around the room, envelope clutched in one hand, the holding onto the hottest man Stiles has ever seen and holy shit, he suddenly believes that karma is very real and he has clearly done something good in his life to earn this kind of reward.

He starts to stand, and her eyes catch his and light up as she tugs her dad towards him. “Miss Hale?”

“Hi!” she says, flinging her arms around his waist. He hugs her back and looks over at her dad, who gives him a sheepish look and shrugs. “I got a hundred percent on my sight words test and Daddy said we could go to ice cream to celebrate and then when we were at ice cream he said we should do something nice for you because you helped me so so so much and I really wanted to come here anyway because I want to see a real jail and Daddy said if I was really really nice and asked politely then maybe you could show me some handcuffs—”

If this is what he’s like, he’s starting to understand why it was difficult for him to make friends in school, because she just does not stop, and doesn’t leave an opportunity for him to get a word in. He crouches down so he’s eye-level with her and waits it out, accepting the envelope when she finally runs out of words and beams at him. “Thank you,” he says, and when he opens it up to find a drawing and a handful of gift cards, he looks up to Mr. Hale. “You really didn’t have to, Mr. Hale,” he says, wrapping one arm around Talia’s shoulders when she darts in to hug him again.

“Derek,” he says, and when he smiles, Stiles is pretty sure he’s found God. “We don’t want to take up your time, I just wanted to thank you.”

“But—” Talia starts, and falls quiet when Derek looks at her again. “I can’t even see the people in the jail?”

“It’s not really a jail,” Stiles says, shrugging, “just a holding cell. And there’s no one in it right now.”

“Boo,” Talia says. “Can I meet your Sheriff?”

“Lia,” Derek warns, and she sighs explosively. “Sorry about—all this. I talked to Cora and she knows to give Talia a little more attention during homework time, so she won’t—she shouldn’t—be calling you again. Talia, we need to get home. Say thank you and goodbye.”

“Bye, Mr. Deputy Stiles,” she says, and he knows—he knows—that her sticking out her bottom lip and pouting is nothing more than a manipulation tactic, but it hits him all the same. “Thank you.”

“Deputy Stilinski,” he says before he fully has the receiver to his ear, wadding up a piece of scrap paper and tossing it at Jordan’s head to get his attention. He motions to the pizza box laying on his desk—dinner for the station courtesy of Derek, who clearly didn’t know the going rate for tutors given the sheer amount he’d dropped on gift cards—and makes a grabbing motion. They’ll be having station dinners for weeks—so long as they cater to his busted foot and bring him what he wants. Otherwise, he’s spending it all on himself.

“Hi,” someone says, and “sorry, this is Derek Hale, Talia’s dad?”

“Hey,” he says, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you?”

“I—” there’s a pause and a muffled sound, a conversation happening just outside of what Stiles can hear. “Sorry, I—I wanted to ask if you would be interested in getting coffee on Saturday. With me,” he adds, and Stiles can hear it when he cups his hand over the microphone and says, “Talia, stop.”

It’s like a record scratch in his brain. “Coffee?” he repeats. He’d thanked karma for smiling down on him, but he’d figured the encounter with Derek was one and done. “You want—with me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, “although my daughter is also extremely interested and I believe is willing to fight me for you.”

Laughter bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You know, I think Talia did call dibs first,” he says, grinning. “What if we all got coffee and then you and I went for lunch?”

“I can work with that,” Derek says. “It’s a date.”

#sterek #sterek fic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eli writes #sterek au #deputy stiles #KID FIC #meet cute

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cumulativechaos · 4 years

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the marks on her skin

Written for TMA Hurt/Comfort Week, Day 5: Hiding Injury/Pain

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The wound on Sasha’s neck is easy to hide under her trademark turtleneck. The burns on her hand, not so much. When she’d stormed into the Archive, ready to raise hell and confront Elias, the first thing Tim had said was “Jesus, Sash, what happened to your hand?”

Well, no. The first thing he’d said was her name, wide-eyed and wondrous, as if she’d returned from the dead. Which was ridiculous, because she wasn’t dead, she’d just been on the run from the law. Which, yeah, still somewhat alarming, but not worth the stares the Archive staff gave her.

After their confrontation with Elias, Sasha retreats back to her office, not sure what to do next. It’s weird, being back after so long spent hiding at her old college roommate’s flat. She’d gotten used to the smell of weed and the sound of nature documentaries playing from the living room. Now, the silence and smell of old papers seems oppressive, somehow.

She gets back to work as quickly as she can, working through the backlog that’s built up in her absence. Most of it is more research on fake stories, and they upload quickly to her computer. The ones that don’t record she sets aside for later, deciding that today is not the day she works on those statements. She doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Tim is strolling into her office with a cheery, “Knock knock, boss.”

“Tim,” Sasha says, closing her computer. “Can I help you?”

“Was actually going to ask if I could help you,” Tim says. “Let me see your hand.”

Sasha freezes. If she were standing, she would back away. “It’s fine,” she says. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Sasha,” he says in that stupid sing-song tone, the one he uses when she’s being stubborn. She rolls her eyes at him. “Come on, let me look at it.”

She bites her lip, debating her options. She could throw a stack of statements at him and run the other direction. She could pretend to see a worm, even though Jane Prentiss is long dead. Or she could just suck it up and show him the burns.

She barely winces as she unwraps her hand. She watches as Tim’s eyes widen in shock and his face pales. Where Jude’s hand had grasped hers the skin is raw, red and blistering. She’d only caught a brief glimpse of the damage before she wrapped it up, but it looks as awful as Sasha remembers.

“ Jesus,” Tim breathes.

Sasha rubs at her neck. “It’s fine,” she lies. The skin still stings, even now.

“All right, that’s it,” Tim says. “I have some first aid stuff back at my place, I’m going to properly take care of that.”

“Tim, no,” Sasha says.

“Unless you want to go to A&E?” he asks.

Sasha bites her lip. “Fine,” she says. “But if you keep fussing over me I’m firing you.”

Tim grins. “Sure thing, boss.”

Tim’s flat is close to the Institute, barely a ten minute walk. The evening air is cool against Sasha’s burnt hand. She can’t help but rub at the wound on her neck again. It’s starting to itch persistently.

The first aid kit Tim produces is extensive: there’s bandages, gauze, antiseptic wipes, medicine, a thermometer, a tourniquet, and a splint. When she asks why he has so many supplies, Tim’s face falls.

“Danny used to get into all kinds of messes,” he says. “I got used to patching him up, when he visited.”

“Oh.” Sasha doesn’t know what to say to that, so she shuts her mouth and lets Tim wipe burn cream across her hand. His touch is incredibly gentle, even as she winces through the pain. He’s careful with her, moving slowly and making sure he gets every inch of the burn. Sasha can’t help but stare as he gently cradles her hand.

“Why do you keep rubbing your neck?” Tim asks.

Sasha’s free hand darts away. “No reason,” she blurts.

Tim fixes her with a stare. “Come off it, Sash,” Tim says. “You’ve been touching it all day. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she insists, but she knows it’s a lost cause. Before she can react, Tim reaches up with the hand that isn’t covered in burn cream and pulls the top of her turtleneck down an inch. Sasha’s hit with a sudden memory, deeply buried in the recesses of the “Big Mistakes” section of her mind: Tim, pressed against her, pulling her turtleneck down to suck a deep bruise into her neck, and Sasha thinking to herself that she was glad that turtlenecks were already her brand.

Back in the present, Tim frowns. His eyes are on the hasty bandage she’d slapped on the knife wound Daisy had left. “Sasha…”

Face flushed, Sasha bats his hand away and leans back, so their faces aren’t so close. “It’s fine,” she says. “Just a scratch.”

“It’s still bleeding,” Tim says.

Damnit. “Oh, I like this turtleneck,” Sasha whines.

“How did this happen?” he asks. His thumb brushes over the corner of the wound, where a scab has started to form.

“Murder cop,” Sasha says. “It’s not a big deal, honest.”

“Bullshit,” Tim says. “Look, I’m going to get you a t-shirt to change into, and then I’m going to bandage that up properly, okay?”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever,” she says. “If it makes you happy.”

“It does,” Tim says, then he steps back and heads in the direction Sasha knows leads to his bedroom. Another memory, unbidden: Tim’s shirt half-unbuttoned, Tim’s hands roaming across her body, lips dancing together as they stumbled blindly in the dark towards Tim’s bed.

Sasha shakes her head, clearing the image away. Now is not the time.

Underneath her shirt she’s wearing a plain sports bra, nothing special, but Tim still squeaks (literally, actually squeaks ) when he returns, t-shirt in hand. He turns around quickly, arm extended towards her and eyes squeezed firmly shut.

“ Really, Tim?” Sasha asks, laughing. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since the last time,” Tim says. “You caught me off guard, okay? I didn’t expect you to already have your shirt off.”

“Whatever,” Sasha says, grabbing the shirt from Tim and pulling it over her head. “You can look, now.”

Tim’s face is slightly flushed when he turns back around. Sasha can’t help but smirk as Tim clears his throat and returns to the task at hand.

He peels the bandage Sasha had applied; it all but slides off, already slicked with blood. He uses a damp towel to dry off the blood, then uses a generous amount of antiseptic ointment on the wound. Sasha hisses at the sting, but she remains still. After that, Tim wipes his hands on the towel and cuts a generous square of gauze before pressing it firmly against the cut. “Hold that for a moment,” he says, reaching for bandage tape.

With her good hand, Sasha holds the gauze in place. She doesn’t look away from Tim’s face as he carefully tapes the gauze to her throat. His tongue pokes out as he concentrates, and the space between his eyebrows creases. It’s somewhat adorable.

“There,” he says when he’s finished. He leans back, inspecting his handiwork. “Much better.”

Sasha smiles at him, then suddenly feels her smile begin to wobble. Oh no, she thinks to herself, just as tears begin to roll, unbidden, down her cheeks.

“Sash?” Tim’s voice is panicked. His hands flutter nervously around her, unsure of what to do. “Sasha, what’s wrong?”

Sasha shakes her head. Words aren’t working for her right now. After a few gasping sobs, she holds her arms out. Tim, thankfully, recognizes a request for a hug when he sees one, and wraps her up in a warm embrace. Sasha clings to him as she sobs, tears and snot dripping onto Tim’s shirt, but Tim just rubs circles into her back and whispers to her that it’s okay,

“I d-don’t know what’s happening to me,” she says, voice thick with tears. “I’m-I’m changing. Tim, I’m scared.”

“I know,” Tim says softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Sasha pulls back, not out of Tim’s arms, but far enough that she can look him in the eye. “Tim, I’m becoming a monster!”

“Okay,” Tim says.

“ Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. “Then you’re some spooky supernatural monster. You’re still Sasha.”

Sasha’s lip wobbles. She pulls Tim back in, squeezing with all her might. Tim’s body is warm, solid. Grounding.

“I missed you, y’know,” Tim says quietly. “I was worried.”

Sasha sniffs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim says. “It’s not your fault.”

“I missed you, too,” Sasha admits. “I would’ve come to you, but I knew you’d be one of the first places they’d look.”

“Where are you hiding out, anyway?” Tim asks, prompting Sasha to snort.

“I told you about Tracy, didn’t I?”

“ No,” Tim says, pulling away to stare at Sasha in horror. “Terrible Tracy? Would try and have sex with her boyfriend while you were still in the dorm?”

“That’s the one,” Sasha giggles. Her tears are subsiding now, leaving her with a strong case of the hiccups. Her chest shudders against Tim’s.

“I hope you’re not planning on going back there tonight,” Tim says. “Not if you don’t have to.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Sasha says. She suddenly realizes what going back to her flat would mean, though, and she finds herself dreading returning home. “I don’t want to be alone, though.”

She didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, but Tim only reacts with a shrug. “Not like you haven’t slept over before.”

“These are different circumstances,” she reminds him.

She might be imagining it, but Sasha swears she sees Tim flush slightly. “Well, yeah,” he says. “Offer still stands, though.”

“This is highly unprofessional,” she says in a fake-serious voice. Tim laughs at that.

“I think we’re past that point,” he says. He’s smiling, his trademark lopsided grin, and it makes her chest clench. He really is unfairly handsome. Her gaze lingers a moment too long, staring into his dark eyes, and she realizes that she’s leaning forward, slowly closing the gap between them.

Clearing her throat, Sasha leans back. Tim blinks, dazed, then swallows and looks away.

“I’m sorry,” Sasha says. “I don’t… I still stand by what I said. We would be a bad idea.”

“I know,” Tim says. He sounds defeated. “I’m not trying to pull anything here. I just want you to feel safe.”

“I do feel safe,” Sasha says. “I feel safe with you.”

The smile Tim gives her is blinding. “Then I’m happy,” he says. “Come on, let’s order dinner and watch shitty reality television.”

“Yes, please,” Sasha says.

#tma #the magnus archives #timsasha #tmahcweek #mine #mw

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completelycarly · 5 years

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Actual Play Podcast Recs

Honestly, I’ve listened and/or watched so many hours of them at this point, somebody else should benefit. I love all of these very, very much and don’t really have favorites, so I’m gonna start with the smaller fandoms and work backward.

1. Campaign Podcast (Star Wars/Skyjacks)

System: Star Wars uses Edge of the Empire. Skyjacks uses Genesys.

Medium: Podcast

Status: Campaign: Star Wars (complete); Campaign: Skyjacks (ongoing)

A group of professional Chicago-based improvisers get together to roleplay found families like you’ve never seen. Every character is loveable and clever, even the ones who shouldn’t be (looking at you, Tryst), but the best parts are when they’re all together, bickering. Kat and James do a superb job wrangling groups of players who work hard to make life as difficult for their own PCs as possible. Mostly just shenanigans and heart - so, so much heart. I’ve laughed harder listening to this podcast than almost any other piece of media. Also, nobody in space or on airships is straight.

***The Star Wars game requires little-to-no preexisting Star Wars knowledge to enjoy, which I know because I enjoyed it so much and have maybe seen two of the original movies all the way through.

2. Neoscum

System: Shadowrun

Medium: Podcast

Status: Ongoing

Do I understand the rules of Shadowrun? Absolutely not. Do I enjoy the heck out this podcast anyway? Absolutely YES. I’m still working through the backlog of this one, but I’ve heard it just keeps getting better the longer you listen (and I already like what I’m hearing). Another (equally hilarious) group of Chicago-based improvisers roleplaying found families, but this time it’s a group of criminals driving cross-country in an 18-wheeler named Xanadu to complete jobs against shadowy governments and the companies that run it all. Heists and hijinks. Lots of dirty jokes. Hot demon ladies on motorcycles. What else do you need?

3. Dimension 20 (Fantasy High/Escape from the Bloodkeep/The Unsleeping City)

System: DnD

Medium: YouTube videos, College Humor’s DROPOUT site, and upcoming Twitch livestream

Status: Fantasy High S1 (S1 complete, S2 coming Sept. 2019); Escape from the Bloodkeep (complete); The Unsleeping City (ongoing but I haven’t gotten there yet)

I saw this video of one of the characters continually failing insight checks and asking characters if they’re his dad, and I was sold. Brennan is a truly solid DM who firmly believes in the Rule of Cool, creating badass and ridiculous NPCs, and making his friends cry. I highly recommend starting with Fantasy High, but if you watch Critical Role you might want to start with Escape from the Bloodkeep because Matt plays a gay knock-off Nazgul with an inferiority complex and improbably bad luck who’s trying to bring back the Dark Lord(TM) with a bunch of other ridiculous baddies. Fantasy High is about a bunch of teens with high fantasy powers attending a high school that trains would-be adventurers, and their first big boss battle is against a lunch lady and a monster made of animated creamed corn. Yeah, you heard me: creamed corn.

4. Friends at the Table

System: Oh god, so many. Here is a good list. Generally systems based on Powered by the Apocalypse and Blades in the Dark.

Medium: Podcast

Status: Seasons in Hieron (onoing, but ending in the next few weeks); Counter/WEIGHT (complete); Marielda (complete); Twilight Mirage (complete); Bluff City (Patreon exclusive, S1 complete)

I think Austin (the GM) describes it best at the beginning of each session when he says it’s a podcast about “critical worldbuilding, smart characterization, and fun interactions between good friends.” The worldbuilding of FatT is honestly baffling, and they work so hard to make the game inclusive and diverse. Seasons alternate between fantasy games set in Hieron and sci-fi games. Lots of googling dogs, off-mic laughing, mechs, leaning into the failures, gays, and sometimes crying. If part of the joy for you is how much the players obviously love each other, listen to FatT.

Also, shout-out to Jack de Quidt for making the best podcast soundtracks I’ve ever heard. They’re a genius.

Not listed because you probably already know about them but dearly loved: The Adventure Zone and Critical Role

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smokeybrand · 4 years

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Smokey brand Select: Violent Delights

I was waxing nostalgic the other day about the Nineties version of Romeo and Juliet, about how much i actually like certain aspects of that film and absolutely abhor others. It got me pondering how much i unabashedly enjoy Shakespeare and many of the big screen adaption of “his” work. These things run the gambit of genre and i think it’s a ripe subject to kind of pick from. I mean, there are just so many ways to adapt this cats catalog and i figure i might as well pick out my favorites.

10. Forbidden Planet

This movie ain’t great. It;s not. But love it anyway. I have a soft spot for those old timey, Fifties, monster flicks and Forbidden Planet is one of the best. It’s campy schlock, don’t misunderstand, but i used to watch this thing late night, right before regular TV went of air. It’s the worst, but i appreciate the fact that it’s true to its time and is one of the very, very, few adaptions of The Tempest. That play never gets the love it deserves.

9. Ophelia

Ophelia is Hamlet from the perspective of his wife, Ophelia. It’s an interesting take on the Hamlet narrative, not really one of would gravitate toward if not for this ridiculously stellar cast, particularly Daisy Ridley. She kills the role as Ophelia and kind of makes you want to see where this version of the story goes. I definitely prefer the tragedy of Hamlet over this take on the narrative, but Ophelia definitely stands on it’s own and is totally worth a watch.

8. She’s the Man

Listen, this is a guilty pleasure. She’s the Man ain’t great. It’s actually pretty terrible, but i love it for how earnest this film is in telling it’s story. An adaption of Shakespeare’s gender-swap farce, Twelfth Night, it’s one of the few, comedic, plays that got the big screen treatment and Amanda Bynes carries this whole goddamn movie as this version’s Viola. I actually miss when Bynes wasn’t crazy and just made funny, endearing, sh*t like this. I mean, who doesn’t love Big Fat Liar, you know?

7. Scotland, PA

This is probably the most creative take on a Shakespeare property i have ever seen in my entire life. This is MacBeth, told as black comedy a la Fargo, set in a 1975 Pennsylvania fast food restaurant. Yeah. I’m not even going to go any further into it. This was one of the most ridiculous viewing experiences i’ve ever had and i loved very second of it.

6. Hamlet

I feel like this is a cheat, like there would be something different here. I actually pondered the Lion King because, technically, that’s a Hamlet adaption but, the more i thought about it, the more this one had to go on the list. It’s just that good. The1996 version of Hamlet, directed, screenplay written by, and starring Kenneth Branagh, is a whole ass classic. It’s a straight forward interpretation of the original play only updated with a nineteenth century aesthetic, which fits the narrative surprisingly well. This version of Hamlet is high f*cking art, man. It’s gorgeous in every way. The score, the costumes, the sets, the colors; All of it is a legitimate feast for the eyes. That said, this motherf*cker is four hours long so, you know, understand that sh*t going in. It;s worth, don’t misunderstand, it’s just real long in the tooth, man.

5. My Own Private Idaho

Idaho is probably the bleakest film on this list. Gus Van Zant is pretty great at capturing the sordid, cruel, reality of the human experiences which makes his adaption of Shakespeare’s Henry tetralogy. I don’t much go for European history for reasons, but i dug this flick and how it kind of mutes all of the glamour and Victorian nonsense for a more guttural, street level, desperation. My Own Private Idaho is not an easy watch I t can be incredibly difficult to get through at times but that doesn’t mean it’s not a brilliant film. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take on this challenge. The performance that River Phoenix gives, alone, is enough for admission. As dope as Joaquin is at his craft, River was definitely the superior talent and that is no more apparent than in this movie.

4. 10 Things I Hate About You

The Taming of the Shrew is actually one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and this film, 10 Things I Hate About You, is one of the best versions of that narrative. This film is f*cking hilarious. It’s outstanding and unique and never strays from the heart of it’s inspiration. Plus, i mean, it’s got a young Heath Ledger just stealing all of the scenes. When you watch him in this, you know dude has all of the talent. This film is why i was completely okay with him as Joker when they announced it. Everyone else lost their sh*t but me? I remembered Ledger’s Patrick Verona and knew the role was in good hands.

3. Throne of Blood

If i had to choose a favorite Shakespeare story, it’s definitely MacBeth. I love that sh*t. There’s intrigue, betrayal, violence, lust, and even a little magic; Everything you need to build an intriguing plot. Take the basic narrative and funnel it through a true master of film like Akira Kurosawa and you get a real classic like Throne of Blood. This is an old one, it dropped back in ‘57, but it’s worth a watch. Kurosawa was a true visionary in his craft and the way he was able to, not only adapt but elevate the source material? F*cking amazing, man. Y’all should watch more Akira Kurosawa, man. He’s one of the most influential filmmakers ever to do it and it’s for good reason. Also, f*cking more MacBeth adaptions, please? There are only, like, six. The f*ck, yo?

2. Romeo + Juliet

I’ve already spoken about my love for this decidedly Nineties take on that classic, uncomfortably problematic, laughably toxic, romance that’s just rife with all of the tragedy and tropes. Why the double-dip? Because i love it THAT much! Tybalt, Mercutio, the aesthetic, that soundtrack; F*cking chef kiss, bro! If you’ve never seen this version of Romeo and Juliet, you don't love yourself enough.

1. Ex Machina

Yeah, that’s right, this f*cking masterpiece of existential, cyberpunk dread, is based on Shakespeare, too! Motherf*ckers wouldn’t know because it’s kind of a deep cut but a lot of the themes from The Tempest, actually my second favorite Shakespeare outing, ring true to Garland’s narrative. I mean, do i really have to explain why i love this movie so much? Actually, i have. Repeatedly. My praise for this movie is rife throughout the backlog of this blog. This thing has made multiple of the Select lists because it’s so f*cking great. Obviously, it’s my favorite adaption but, more than that, like Throne of Blood, it’s just a great f*cking film by itself.

Honorable Mentions: The Lion King, Titus (1999), A Midsummer Night's Dream (1999), Men of Respect, Richard III (1995), Much Ado About Nothing (1993), Ran, MacBeth (2015), Coriolanus (2011), Get Over It

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youreverycolor · 5 years

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An Unlikely Love: Fight For It, Pt. 2 (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #43 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“Do you believe in soulmates?” – “No.” – “Oh, well, that’s a shame, because I’m it. I’m your soulmate.”)

The conclusion of Fight For It. I hope you guys enjoy. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. :)

Special thanks to @madpanda75, @thatesqcrush, and @misssirenlove for love, support, idea-bouncing, and generally being wonderful women.

Tagging: @danahart1 @nikkijmorgan @ele-esposito @dianilaws @sunnyfortomorrow @mommakat32 @lucifersadvisor @gibbs274 @oliviamariathegirl @evee87 @tropes-and-tales @garturbo @delia26 @neely1177 @jennisdirtyimagines @lostintech0011001 @letty-o @lucifersadvisor @sunnyfortomorrow @literallyprentissstwin @gibbs274 @dianilaws

Song: "Ours” by Taylor Swift

~*~*~*~

There was nearly a decade between Amanda Rollins and Anna Stein, but they could easily be mistaken for sisters, only a year or two apart. Of all the squad members, Anna was closest with Olivia, and so she might have asked if the lieutenant could use some time away from work, but she thought better of it. Olivia was Rafael’s best friend, after all, and he would probably want to talk to her over the course of the week. However, since the party he had thrown to celebrate Anna’s first semester grades, Amanda and Anna had also formed a fast friendship. Amanda was a lot of fun and up for anything without needing an explanation, as Liv might have asked for. As it turned out, she also had a copious amount of vacation time saved up. So, she bribed Carisi into taking Jesse for the week—with the use of her sitter for the daytime—and told Olivia a slight fib about a “family emergency back home.” By Tuesday night, she and Anna were on a plane headed to Tennessee.

Originally, Anna had suggested Vegas, but Amanda—a recovering gambling addict—quickly countered with Nashville. Anna had never been there, but Amanda said she would love it: all the fun of Vegas bars without the price tag, and the added bonus of hot cowboys. Amanda knew Nashville like the back of her hand; she had graduated from Middle Tennessee State University. The college was only about thirty miles from downtown Nashville, and Amanda and her friends frequently went into the city on weekends. So she knew exactly where to go and what to do, and Anna was more than happy to let her lead the way.

Although in some ways, Amanda had become a hardened New Yorker, she quickly reverted to her roots after only a day in Tennessee. She took Anna along for the ride, converting the native Californian to a Southern belle. During the days, they visited the Parthenon, Music Row, and the Country Music Hall of Fame. They took walks along the riverfront and even went to the Grand Ole Opry. Amanda had done most of these things already, but she was content to do them again with her friend, who clearly needed the distraction.

At night, they teased their blonde hair (Amanda joked that “the higher the hair, the closer to God”) and wore obscenely short denim skirts and cowboy boots while drinking on Honky Tonk Row. At some point, they found themselves in a karaoke bar, and Anna shocked the hell out of Amanda by singing the mysterious, little-known third verse of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.” They talked about their families and how much they missed them; Amanda’s mother and sister had moved back to Atlanta and she rarely got to see them, while all of Anna’s family still lived in Los Angeles, where she also had lived until four years ago. But all the while, Anna did not bring up Rafael once, and Amanda didn’t ask about him.

But by dinner on Monday, Amanda’s curiosity got the better of her. They were sitting at a bar nursing vodka tonics and eating the best burgers Anna had ever had, when Amanda asked, “So, since we’re scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning, you gonna tell me why we came?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, as much fun as this trip has been—”

“So much fun!” Anna said. “It’s honestly been the best girls’ trip I’ve ever taken.”

Amanda smiled. “I’m glad you had fun, but I have to ask…”

Anna set her burger down in favor of a sip of her drink. “I don’t want to make it weird for you when you have to deal with him at work,” she said. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.”

“Okay, first off,” Amanda began, “unless you’re telling me about whatever weird kinks Barba has in the sack, nothing you could say would make me feel weird around him. And second, it must have been a pretty big deal for you to want to get out of the damn state for a week.”

“Maybe I just wanted to do something fun over spring break with a friend,” Anna replied, avoiding eye contact.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m a detective, right?”

Anna laughed. “You and, like, half my other friends.” She put her face in her hands and then turned on her bar stool toward Amanda and told her the whole story, starting with Rafael’s Spanish-laced tirade when he arrived home to the moment he stormed back out. Amanda listened quietly the entire time, the same as she did when investigating a case. Her face betrayed nothing—no doubt a skill she learned in her gambling days.

When Anna finally finished, Amanda took a deep breath. “You know, I can’t say any of this surprises me.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Amanda downed the last of her vodka. “Well, let me start by saying that you did the right thing getting out of there. A lot of women would’ve hung around waiting for him to get home. Took a lot of guts to do what you did.”

“What, run away?”

“You planning to go back?”

“Of course,” Anna said, a little taken aback.

“Then you didn’t run away. You decided that for the good of your relationship, you needed to take some time for yourself. No shame in that.”

Anna took a moment to process this. “It really was a stupid fight,” she finally said.

“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “But, you know, all couples fight. At least you’re fighting about stupid things than about, I don’t know, whatever the hell my old partner, Nick, and his wife used to fight about.”

“I guess,” Anna said.

Amanda put her hand on top of Anna’s. “Anna, look at me.” Anna looked up, pushing a wisp of her hair away from her eyes. “You’ve gotta understand, Barba has been alone for a long time. And take it from me, when you’re alone that long, you get used to thinking you’re right all the time because there’s no one telling you otherwise.”

“I get that, but maybe we’re just too different. Maybe he’s been alone too long. Maybe I don’t take things seriously enough. Maybe it’s just too—”

Amanda held up her hands. “Look, I get it. He’s a stubborn pain in the ass. Hell, he’s hard to work with, so I can’t imagine living with him. You’ve got a pretty big age gap, and you’re both really busy with work and school. So I would completely understand if you decided you weren’t right for each other.” Then she softened her voice. “But I told you once before, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. And when I asked if you were planning to go back, you looked at me like I was nuts for even asking that question. That says something to me.”

Suddenly, the bartender came over with two shots of whiskey. “From the gentlemen down that way,” he said, gesturing to two young, extremely handsome men sitting at the end of the bar.

Anna and Amanda looked at the men, then at each other. “You wanna go talk to ‘em?” Amanda asked, a sly grin on her face.

Anna hesitated for a second, looked at the men again, and then took out her phone. “Give me a second.” A minute later, she put it away and grabbed one of the shot glasses. “Okay. Ready.”

They clinked their glasses, tapped them on the bar, and downed the shots. “Sisters, right?” Amanda asked, referring to their cover story.

Anna hopped off her barstool and the two of them linked arms. “Sisters.”

***

Rafael was miserable.

Anna had only texted him twice a day since she’d landed in Nashville the previous Tuesday: once in the morning, and once at night. It was largely the same message every time: good morning or goodnight, and that she hoped he had a good day. He appreciated that, despite her anger, she at least wanted him to know that she was safe. And he wanted to give her the space she had clearly demanded, so he didn’t message more than that. He wasn’t a jealous man who needed to know what his girlfriend was doing every minute of the day, after all. Anna had gone on a handful of trips with her friends over the course of their relationship. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was that this time, she did it to get away from him rather than to get away with other people. That made all the difference. He trusted Anna implicitly. But every night, after he’d finally dragged himself home to bed, his brain went to a dark place where she met some stranger in Nashville, some ridiculous cowboy, who made her realize that he wasn’t worth the effort.

And because of what? A damn pen.

The day after she left, he threw them all out.

He felt like a bachelor again, but this time it wasn’t self-imposed. Nevertheless, he had reverted to his bachelor ways, working as much as he could until the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday and Friday mornings, Carmen had found him asleep on his office couch in the same clothes he’d worn the previous day. He worked right through the weekend, up until Sunday night. The good news was that he actually seemed to have caught up on a good deal of his backlogged work. The bad news was that he couldn’t even enjoy the spoils because he had no one to enjoy them with.

He had lunch with Olivia a couple of times and didn’t mention what was going on. She noticed something was off, but he deflected, saying he just hadn’t slept well that week. It wasn’t a lie.

Since he had gotten caught up with work that week, he decided to take Monday off. He cleaned out his closet, donating a bunch of clothes he hadn’t worn in a year. Anna had said more than once that she wanted to get a rain shower head, so he went out and bought one and installed it. Carisi came over with Jessie and a pizza that evening. Rafael had never been comfortable around children, but he had to admit that watching Carisi play with Jesse made him want to participate. So he and the detective and Amanda’s daughter colored and ate pizza—and for a minute, he forgot about being alone. Then, he got the nightly text from Anna, and was reminded all over again that she wasn’t going to be next to him in bed.

By Tuesday, he was climbing the walls. Work was the only thing he knew would take his mind off of the long wait until she arrived back home, so he threw himself into it that day. He had to give his phone to Carmen so that he wouldn’t be tempted to check it every ten seconds. She gave him a weird look but took it anyway. When three o’clock hit, he gathered his things to head home. Anna’s flight was due in at four, and he wanted to be there when she got home so that he could tell her what he’d failed to tell her before she left.

***

The light in the bedroom was on when he got home. For a split second, he was terrified—was there an intruder? And would his briefcase be enough to knock said intruder unconscious? But then he noticed the suitcase against the wall adjacent to the living room.

His heart raced. She must have gotten back early.

He found her in the master bathroom putting her toiletries away. She was wearing old, beat-up jeans and a t-shirt, and her hair was in a messy ponytail, but to Rafael, she had never looked more beautiful. He stood watching her for just a second, breathless. He worried if he said anything that it wouldn’t come out right. The last conversation they had turned out terribly.

But as soon as she turned her blue eyes up and locked onto the green of his, words were the last thing on either of their minds.

She flew at him, leaping into his arms and knocking him backwards onto the bed. She kissed him everywhere; on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and, finally, finally, his mouth. He kissed her so deeply that he thought he might actually be able to drink her. She tasted like mint and smelled like ripe peaches. She had come back to him in a flood of living memories. She had come back to him, period.

He finally pulled back to look her in the eyes again, his own wet with tears. “Te amo,” he said. “Te amo, mi corazón.” He repeated it like a prayer, so many times that he worried it lost meaning, but to Anna, nothing ever sounded better.

Rafael made love to Anna for the next two hours, and every time he moaned her name, “I love you” wasn’t far behind.

After they were both finally spent, they lay under a throw blanket on the bedroom carpet; at some point in their lovemaking, Anna actually rolled off the bed and they just continued there, laughing and kissing all at once. She told Rafael about her trip and all the things she and Amanda had seen and done. He hung on every word. But there was one more story she had to tell, and she hoped that when he heard it, he would understand why she reacted the way she did when he arrived home.

“So,” she said, “I don’t think I mentioned, we had a cover story on this trip that we were sisters. We didn’t use our own names with anyone we met the entire time. It was like being undercover. So last night—”

He laughed. “Okay, I have to know. What was your UC name?”

“I was Ariel and Amanda was Aurora.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You seriously used Disney princess names?”

“Well, if you’re gonna go UC, no better cover than a mermaid and a narcoleptic princess, right?”

“Does that mean I get to be Eric?” When she gaped at him, he said, “We’ve been together for over a year. I think you underestimate how much Disney trivia I’ve picked up in that time.”

She drew in a deep breath and focused her eyes on his. “So, as I was saying, last night, we were having dinner and two really hot cowboys sent us shots of whiskey.”

He sat up slightly, alarmed. “Okay, why are you telling me—”

“Because you need to hear this,” she said, pushing him back down and propping herself up on her elbow. “Amanda wanted to go talk to them. And we ended up having a really good conversation. It was a lot of fun.” He looked stricken, and she softened her expression. “Raf, you know nothing happened, right?”

“Of course I know that,” he said, although he was glad for the confirmation. “I just—it’s not that I don’t want you to go on trips with your friends. But this time…I guess I wish I could have been there with you.”

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “You were, Raf. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Right before we went to talk to them? That was when I texted you goodnight. Because I wanted to make sure I said goodnight before you went to bed—whenever the hell that was this week. I didn’t want to do it late and have you wonder if I’d forgotten you.”

He felt tears welling in his eyes again. “Anna, I never would have thought that.”

“Even still. You were on my mind every night and every morning. I wasn’t just texting you to let you know I was safe. I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, no matter where I am or how things are between us, I’m always thinking of you. And,” she added, “I’ll always come home to you.”

He sat up and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, into her hair, and brought his lips to hers. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “I’m sorry, too.” Then, she grabbed his watch from the nightstand above them. “I know it’s not our usual date night, but I could sure as hell use dinner and a movie right now. How about you?”

He smiled at her and ran a hand along her hip, memorizing the curves. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

***

Anna wiped away her tears, which had been flowing for the last twenty minutes. After they’d eaten, she and Rafael had settled in to watch her favorite movie, What Dreams May Come. The plot was simple: the two main characters, Chris and Annie, lose their children in a horrible car accident. Annie has a mental breakdown and is institutionalized until she and Chris manage to rebuild their lives. But four years later, Chris also dies. His afterlife is beautiful, and he is reunited with his children. But when Annie commits suicide and is sent to hell, Chris journeys there to save her.

Even though Anna had seen it a thousand times, watching the two characters reunited at the end of the movie never failed to turn her into a weeping mess. She didn’t even try to hide it. “God,” she said, “That scene where they’re in Hell and he’s about to join her there and—Raf? Are you okay?”

Unlike Anna, Rafael preferred people think he was born without tear ducts. But there was no mistaking the sound of his sniffling next to her. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

She leaned over and turned the end table light on. As her eyes adjusted, she caught him wiping his cheek with his shirt sleeve. “You’re crying!”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are.” She handed him a Kleenex from the box she’d judiciously placed next to her before the movie started. He took it and blew his nose. “I warned you it was a gut-punch.”

“When you said it was a movie about soulmates, I think I expected, well, the usual tropes. I wasn’t prepared for something that seemed…realistic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Almost the entire movie was set in heaven, and this is the one you’re calling realistic?”

“That’s not what I mean. Usually, movies make it seem like soulmates are perfect together and never fight and read each other’s minds. But come on, who gets that?”

She laughed. “People in movies.”

“Exactly,” he said. “People whose lives are literally scripted. But I don’t think our lives are predestined. For instance, I don’t think whatever higher power there is intended for you to be assaulted so that I could meet you.”

She cast her eyes downward. “Well, I’m glad to know that, because if that were the case, I’d think God was a huge asshole.”

He shifted on the couch to face her. “You want to know what part of the movie it was that got me?”

“Of course.”

He took a deep breath. “It was when they finally explained what their double-D anniversary was.” In the movie, Chris and Annie had a special anniversary; it commemorated the day they decided not to divorce after their children died and Annie had her breakdown.

“Oh, I know. When he told her not to give up—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He cleared his throat. “When I first heard them described as soulmates, I was internally rolling my eyes. But then, we saw them suffering in two completely different ways. He pushed the pain away, and she collapsed under it.”

“Life’s like that,” she replied. “People react differently to things.”

“Yeah. But that’s what got me. They weren’t on the same wavelength at all. They didn’t just push through everything together like it was easy. They had to make an active decision to do it. When they chose to stay together, even after the gargantuan amount of suffering they went through…”

She pushed her hair over one of her shoulders and tilted her head. “So you do believe in soulmates now?”

“You know,” he said, “I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility. But like I said, I think soulmates aren’t people who are perfect together.” He took her hand. “I think they’re two people who aren’t perfect together—maybe even two people don’t even make sense together—but who make the choice every day to come back to each other. They fight, sometimes blow up, maybe don’t even speak to each other for a week, but they actively choose each other every day.”

She moved closer to him, tucking her legs underneath herself. “That sounds…very plausible.”

“Plausible,” he repeated with a chuckle. “In what world am I the romantic in this relationship?”

She grinned. “We can share the title.”

“I was thinking about the fight we had,” he said, pivoting so fast that Anna was worried he was shutting down on her again.

“Okay?”

“It was a nothing fight, but it turned into this big blow-up,” he continued. “A lot of couples would have let it get into their heads and make it into something about the relationship itself.”

She picked off a piece of lint from his shirt and smoothed the fabric over his shoulder. “Well, we’re not other couples.”

He nodded. “And I know how people look at us when we’re out together. They see you, this beautiful, young, vibrant woman, and then they see me—”

“A handsome, distinguished, slightly silver fox?” she offered, gently touching his hair, the silver in it just beginning to show.

He smiled and put his hand on her cheek. The softness of her skin was like her generous heart: it never failed to amaze him. “The point is, despite what people think or say, or when life makes love hard, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we work at this, even through the hardest days, because we want to. We choose each other, every day—even if we need to go to other states to do it.” He winked at her.

She lifted his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm, her heart beating so hard it might have jumped out of her chest. “Are you saying…”

He didn’t complete her thought, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer when he gave her that half-smile she loved so much. It made him look like a man much younger than his years, almost timid, a little mischievous. “I know, I just destroyed my grumpy, cynical persona. Don’t tell the squad; I have a reputation to keep up.”

For a minute, he was afraid that she would think he was silly or—worse—being disingenuous. But then he caught her eyes with his, and they were sparkling. She crawled from her spot on the couch into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know, in the movies, this would be when the boy asks the girl to marry him,” she laughed.

He pulled her to him, so that their lips almost touched. “Well, we’re not other couples,” he said, just before he closed the gap between them.

***

Two weeks later, Anna had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago while she was reading and he was reviewing case files. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t fallen asleep when she read on the couch. She would lay with her legs stretched across his lap and he would run his hands along her calves, sometimes massaging them if she’d had a particularly hard day at the diner. She thought it was for her benefit, but the truth was, he loved doing it. Knowing he could relax her into sleep just with the touch of his hands was an intimacy he loved even more than sex. And so it was that he found himself lifting her legs off of his lap carefully, trying not to wake her. Mercifully, she was a heavy sleeper. It would probably be a struggle to get her into bed later on. For now, he decided to just change into pajamas and do the rest of his work in the home office. But there was something he wanted to do first.

The fight they’d had was a turning point. It had been a result of nothing more than mishandled stress on both of their parts. It hadn’t been anything deeper than that. But it had scared him more than any other argument they had ever had. She had gone away on trips before that, but he hadn’t been lonely. Their apartment still felt like their home because he knew she would be back. But when she’d been away with Amanda that week, he had been afraid she would realize she was happier away from him. So their home had temporarily transformed into just a place to keep his stuff. It didn’t feel comfortable. It didn’t feel warm. It just felt like four walls he slept in. Waking up without her was excruciating, as was knowing he would have to fall asleep without her there. He’d missed her laughter, her smile, the way he could smell her shampoo for hours after she’d left the bed. He’d missed seeing her body wash next to his in the shower.

He had missed her legs on his lap.

He crept into the bedroom and turned on the nightstand light, the dimmest in the room, so as not to wake her from afar. Then he went into the closet and opened one of the drawers. She never went into his closet, saying that she was afraid she would get lost under a pile of ties and vests, never to be seen again. He reached deep within the drawer, toward the back, and found what he was looking for.

Anna had joked that, in the movies, after a boy told a girl she was his soulmate, he would ask her to marry him. Although he had deflected the comment with a kiss, for just a heartbeat, he thought she had somehow tripped, fallen, and landed in his sock drawer. He had managed to compose himself, but now, his overstimulated, paranoid brain needed to make sure she hadn’t actually found what he was holding.

He looked over his shoulder, and then carefully opened the velvet box in his hand. The ring he had bought was still there, the question within it. All he had to do was choose a day to ask.

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nahra-is-healing · 4 years

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I’m going to do it...

I decided to start going through my ridiculous backlog of games yesterday as I have far too many and I spend all my time playing Final Fantasy XIV. I need to stop playing MMO's so much as I never play anything else. I thought I would write down my thoughts so I can unwind my brain and practice my writing.

Borderlands 1 - PC - Steam:

I had the game installed on my laptop from when I played it before. I'm pretty sure I completed the original campaign. I don't really remember where I got up to, so I decided to go through the main campaign again on game 2 I think it was. I don't remember. It was fun enough, but I hate slogging through tutorials. I'm too impatient for them. I killed Nine-toes and went back to Dr. Zed. I finished up there as I wanted to play another game.

Final Fantasy XIII - PC - Steam:

I had to play with my mouse and keyboard as I don't have my Xbox 360 controller with me and Saff was using his PlayStation controller. I loaded the game and the settings menu comes up. I have no clue what settings do what, so I set them to what I think looks familiar. I start the game and the pre-rendered cut-scene was stuttering. O.K... I exit the game, fiddle about with the settings and.... stuttering. Great. So I exit the game again and ask Saff to have a look. He tells me to check NVIDIA Experience to see if it can optimise my game. I check and.... it's not supported. Brilliant. So Saff tells me what he thinks are the right settings for my laptop. Start the game...stuttering. Damn it. I decided to look it up on the net to see if anyone else found a solution. I see on Reddit about a patch someone made and it's apparently a miracle patch. It sounds awesome, but it looks like it's too much hard work. I have to install it in the game's files, I can't do something with the shadows I think and I'm worried if Steam won't like you messing with game files. I'm too chicken for that, so I continued my search. I stumbled across a post about the game looking for a controller. I ask Saff if I can borrow his controller (he was playing Flight Simulator 2020 on his laptop at the time). I plug the controller into my laptop, let the drivers install, load the game up again and..... no stuttering!!... but there is no sound. FML. So I gave it up for now and decided to move onto something else.

Final Fantasy VIII: Remastered - PC - Steam:

I've been wanting to play this for awhile, but it's always easier for me to just play MMO's. They are comfortable. I had played a bit of 8 before. Years ago I borrowed the game from my friend Cory when I was in year 8 I think. All I remember is laying down at the end of my bed with a lamp on playing the game and I was jumping along a train. I think I tried again at some point when I bought the original version on Steam, but I didn't get very far. I even own the game on the original PlayStation. I was always put off this game because I watched the Spoony reviews a million years ago. He didn't like the games very much and it really turned me off. I'm not a fan of characters like Squall, either. He just seems like a bit of a knob. So I load up the game and the experience is so much better than 13. It actually works. I start the game and I'm amazed by how nice the remastered is. I arrive at the GF tutorial and it's so long winded and I still end up confused. it takes forever too. We get on our way to the fire cave and I get the magic junction tutorial. I sort of get what I have to do, but I'm starting to get confused. I'm happy when I find out they have an auto button. I walk up to the two guys outside the cave and I pick the 10 minute timer. I recon I can do it. Oh my God, so many random encounter. I get to Ifrit and think I've got this, I have Shiva equipped. The animations take FOREVER. Game over. Awesome. I go again and rearrange Quistis to be a damage and Squall to be magic. I set his skills to magic and Quistis to draw. That was a major mess up. Squall could only cast fire magic and Quistis could only draw cast fire too. I'm not liking this draw mechanic very much. Anyway, I manage to beat Ifrit this time...

#gaming #final fantasy #borderlands #blog

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animepopheart · 5 years

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Pitching and Working Out of a Dead End

In lieu of working through my current backlog of anime, I’ve instead been streaming through Ace of Diamond with my family. I’m a fan of sports anime, and enjoy baseball in real life (blame Ken Burns’ Baseball and a man crush on Bob Costas), so it’s a wonder I never watched this series until now. I’m a few episodes into the third season, and it’s been a joy to witness Sawamura, the series protagonist, begint to blossom into a reliable and crafty pitcher.

It’s been a hard road, though. Sawamura starts out all puff and spirit and no skill. There’s talent there, for sure, but the series up to this point has seemed more struggle than success for the would-be ace. Just like many anime protagonists, we root for Sawamura because he’s an underdog who doesn’t give up, whose bluster and confidence both ridiculous and moving. But unlike, say, Naruto Uzumaki, Sawamura is neither superhuman nor able to defeat his opponents by his own hand; he must depend on teammates from his high school, Seido, to play a heavy role. I know, I know, Naruto is trained either methodically or by example from several mentors and he is part of a small team and the larger village of Konoha—but his dependence on others is relatively low and the power from within is what pushes him forward. I can’t say the same about Sawamura.

In fact, Sawamura’s display of indomitable spirit largely even goes away in one arc. After he beans an opposing player, leading to opportunities that eventually cost Seido the game and a continued chance at Koshien, the first year pitcher loses confidence. It takes him many episodes—a dozen or two—before he’s able to regain his swagger (and his ability to pitch inside). Even then, Sawamura must rely on the offense to produce runs, which are ultimately what wins games. And as if to reemphasize his dependence, Sawamura is a terrible batter—he cannot “earn back” the runs he gives up, which is a common thought for several opposing teams’ pitchers.

Failure on the big stage

Recent episodes I watched, near the beginning of season three, elicited joy from me. No sooner had Sawamura once again regained the ability to pitch inside that he learned a new pitch, a change-up, which makes him far more dangerous than he was previously. He stumbles at first, but very quickly uses the new pitch effectively in a game. And the development of a change-up came about through advice from a coach that really doesn’t care a lick for Sawamura in the first place!

When I look at his path toward trying to become the team’s ace, I realize that a lot of things fell just right for him—the right school, the right teammates, the right battery, the right coach, the right recruiter, the right mentors, the right baseball situations. He could, he should be stuck in a dead end in his baseball career, but everything seems to break right, giving him a chance to be all that he can be.

Sawamura’s new pitch helps him excel against the opposing team

I never participated on any type of organized team sport, but work, certainly, feels likes athletics sometimes. Teams are developed and teamwork is needed to accomplish goals, but also this—one’s career path can sometimes feel like a dead end. At least it felt that way for me when I was in my mid-twenties. I wanted to be the “ace,” but I was stuck in the stands, not even a benchwarmer.

I’ve heard much good career advice over the years, and I’m not going to replicate it here. I don’t think I could give it as well, and honestly, much of it hasn’t applied to me, because like Sawamura, things broke my way very often in life. I believe it was God opening doors that I didn’t deserve so that he could get his work done even through a dumb guy (also like Sawamura!) like me. And so I’ll skip the words of wisdom and offer you a quick story that might encourage you where you are right now.

I had a desk job—much like the salary men of Japan and sometimes anime lore—which I enjoyed for a couple of years. But then it started to drag. I wasn’t being challenged and became bored and disinterested. My production decreased, and I saw no way upward within the team structure. I was ready to leave.

But a job opened at a sister agency that would put me in a leadership role. It seemed like a tiny step up, enough for a peon like me but not enough for my co-workers to apply for. So I did, and with supportive managers, was able to secure the job. The job involved working with a board composed of some of the most extraordinary and caring people I’d ever met, and together we created a wonderful, productive atmosphere. Our agency grew and grew, more than quadrupling our budget, and I soon oversaw a number of staff and earned the title of “Executive Director.” In four years, I went from bottom of the totem pole to top, but the thing is, this isn’t a “hard work will get you places” kind of story. I don’t I earned the accolades and pay that I received. Like Sawamura, blessings came my way—it was the right fit and the right time with the right people, and I benefited tremendously from it all.

That agency, though, was about to head downhill quick due to reasons out of staff control. Another position opened up as the director who oversaw many programs, including the one I was once part of, the one that I’d grown bored of. Again, I wasn’t as qualified as other staff, but applied anyway and to my shock (and everyone else’s), I got the job. Shortly afterward, within days, that supportive board fell apart.

I’ve now been in this newer role for several years and through I have grown a ton, doing more effective work than I ever had (I’ve learned much about how the good work I did as an ED wasn’t nearly as good as I thought it was!) and enjoying what I do. It’s given me so much, none of it truly deserved.

This post feels like a brag, but if anything, I hope to impress that like Sawamura, so much of my accomplishments were hardly my own; they were out of my hands and even happened in spite of me. I see more worthy people around me all the time—many of them work for me. But paths opened and to borrow Dr. Malcolm’s expression, “my career found a way.” Sawamura’s experience and my own have shown me this—possibilities sometimes lie in wait and lead to incredible things.

I just realized that I lied to you—I will be giving you advice, leaving you with what wisdom I have, if it can be called that, with the lessons I learned when it seemed I was trapped but others lifted me up, far up. Here it is: Be open, be prepared, and be encouraged, all you who toil away, for a dead end sometimes just leads us to another, and better, path.

Ace of Diamond is available to stream on Crunchyroll.

#ace of diamond #daiya no ace #eijun sawamura #anime #thoughts #blog

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pkgam · 4 years

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What Happened to Twitch?

Twitch used to be a pretty good website. I had really high hopes that it would be a competitor to Youtube. It is a live stream platform that was ahead of Youtube as Youtube took a while to do live stuff. It has videos as well such as of past streams or people streaming videos they made for viewing later, viewer interaction features, solid streamers, no audible magic, good mods/staff, etc... Now the issues with the site are virtually endless. Let me give you a rundown of various things I have experienced and I have heard others experiencing which you may or may not have experienced because it’s as if that issues are not even account-specific.

Lately when logging in, every time, they prompt be to get a 6-digit code from my Email to continue to login because they “don’t recognize” my device. Yeah, you know how on every other website that has verification things like this, it’ll keep track of what devices you logged in from so you don’t have to keep verifying? No matter what, it doesn’t do that for me and a bunch of others. It seems to work fine for others though. So it’s user-specific. I have even tried logging in from one PC, then logging into another off the same internet while STILL being logged in to that PC and it’ll ask me to verify on both. It should at least be able to tell it’s from the same IP, but nope.

Try reporting the glitches and problems to Twitch as well. You’ll get nowhere. A recent experience I had with them was I tried to resolve that 6-digit verification thing for months. I explain it, get what looks like a generic copy/paste or automated response that does not address the issue, I respond back saying that wasn’t it and explain it again, then get NO response back, but do get a response back with a survey on how they did. Needless to say I was not satisfied and explained it in a civil way. No response back from them for that either. They used to handle stuff like that so well way back. Like, I remember when The Speed Gamers migrated from Ustream back to Twitch that they were having layout trouble during one of their charity streams in that what they wanted to incorporate on their page couldn’t be done, so they messaged Twitch staff about it and they tweaked the page so they could. Stuff like that was amazing! I don’t see things like that happen anymore.

When finally being able to log in, I’ve noticed that oftentimes my status is set to “offline” when I always have it set to “online”. Alternately I have seen friend’s statuses going to idle despite them being active on the site. So that status part of the site is entirely borked. Moving on to other topics...

I think users knew when they implemented Audible Magic (basically Content ID for Twitch, automatically hitting videos) and played it off as a benefit to streamers so they can remove copyrighted music in their videos that it was going to go downhill. Remember that a lot of people went from Youtube to Twitch (Or Justin.tv) BECAUSE they were tired of Youtube’s horrible automated systems. Add automation in the mix and, well... it indeed went downhill.

Twitch is clearly inconsistent in their moderation now too. There was this one girl who frustratedly threw her cat behind her on stream and nothing came of it. But on the other hand, there was a girl who got banned for apparent dog yelps off camera with her being there, stating the ban was for animal abuse. Story: https://www.dexerto.com/entertainment/twitch-streamer-furious-over-animal-abuse-ban-amid-alinity-controversy-1296710 Many’ more examples like that out there on various topics.

Also, ever since they implemented automatic moderation of words in chat, there has been a ridiculous amount of people punished for innocent things (you can briefly read what they post before it gets removed from view or use a browser extension to reveal them) because it can’t tell context. At least streamers can turn that off, but it was set to on by default which caused a lot of issues. Still’ does when people have it on as not everyone turned it off.

Streams have been getting very bad audio glitches for me in that they will get more and more distorted until I pause then play the stream. On top of that, the chat will stop scrolling with new messages at times, forcing me to scroll it down manually. With both of these, it’s like having to maintain two fronts while trying to interact. Not fun.

Speaking of trying to interact, ever since they implemented that stream delay of like 20 seconds to cheap on the servers, it has not been the same anyway. They eventually implemented a “low latency” thing which yields faster delivery at the cost of possibly buffering a lot, but it’s still longer than the 2-3 seconds it used to be. Just imagine trying to converse with someone face to face and they respond 20 seconds later first. It’s the most awkward thing to keep track of. (Smashcast doesn’t have that. Just’ saying...) It can be even worse if the stream player itself gets an error and you have to refresh, which does happen fairly often. Making you possibly miss the point the streamer talked to you. Trying to sort it out then just stalls the whole thing because they have to readdress you if you mention it to them which backlogs them responding to others and etc...

For the videos on demand (VOD) themselves, playback is often glitchy as errors happen midway through, they don’t play at all and seeking to a certain part is often very difficult as it doesn’t go where you click. Heck, I heard from others that sometimes you can’t even PAUSE a VOD as that functionality is glitched out. But pausing works fine for me. Why is that? Who knows.

Live streams aren’t much better as they have their own issues. I often get errors and have to refresh the page to get it to run again. Even when not getting an error, I noticed that I’m served a slightly-slower stream than others seem to get. So I have to pause then unpause the video every so often to get it to jump back ahead to the closest point I can see. Part of me wonders if the error and slightly slower stream are related, but don’t hold me to that. I have a good internet connection too.

Twitch streams also get deleted nowadays unless set up to into highlights. Given that many weren’t aware this happened before it was too late (you only had 14 days to save them if not a turbo/prime member and 60 if you are), a TON of content got lost. People argued that it’s to save money because of the hosting costs of video data being large. So rather than streams just being automatically turned into highlights as a precautionary measure, they just let them get wiped because they didn’t care. I’m not entirely sure about that “because” you can save streams to highlights as mentioned. So it’s just going to fill back up again since people now know of it, if not already has filled back up.

Twitch also got rid of PMs so past conversations you might have wanted to look back on or had to catch up on as a backlog were lost. You can do the same sort of thing in whispers if a person allows it in their settings, but what’s the point of getting rid of PMs?... Text is text regardless of where it’s located. This was one of those sorts of changes that I can’t figure out. I “thought” maybe they wanted to unify a private place to talk since both existed at once time, but why not just move the conversation to the other or not have both at the same time to begin with?

Another thing they get rid of for no reason is email notifications to streams you follow. They “say” if you don’t watch a stream for a while they’ll turn off email alerts to it. Which makes sense to not fill up someone’s inbox. Imagine for instance they stream 30 days straight and you don’t go to any of them as sort of a break. That’s 30 emails that are useless to you. Except it doesn’t work. Even streams I watched regular like Bob Ross got email alerts disabled. You can tell that they keep track of when you click an Email link to someone’s stream too because in the URL you’ll notice it recognizes you came from the Email. So there’s no excuse. Oh and there’s no way to toggle that automated disabling of alerts to off as far as I’m aware. So you just have to deal with it. At least they do seem to be consistent about telling you when it does turn off email alerts, but get ready to enter that 6-digit login code just to fix the alerts regardless if the person is streaming or not.

After the Amazon buyout, eventually they started pushing Twitch Prime as well, basically another paid subscription thing like Turbo, only with Amazon benefits added on it. But all the things they push as “prime loot” are complete garbage. Stuff like Raid: Shadow Legends which is hardly a “game”. What made them even think a community of gamers would be into that? Well, maybe they did realize that, but did it anyway as a business partnership for the moolah.

I get the feeling that business partnerships are what’s going on with all the Valorant stuff popping up as well. Only with streamers being able to take advantage of it. For example: People found out to try the game, they need to watch any Valorant stream with drops enabled for a for 2 hours. That lead to people going to streams just for that invite. Many people. Artificial-inflation amounts of people that encourage people to stream it for said numbers and Twitch recommending channels playing it like mad to people, lol! So yeah, I’d be very surprised if it wasn’t a business partnership.

You can find many more examples out there of people may or may not having a bug for things, but this should be enough to explain that Twitch is a complete mess. Every single aspect of it. It’s in a state like Youtube where everything is broke and they are ignoring users who message them telling about bugs (which they claim they encourage people to do and they listen to) or maybe are just unwilling to fix any of them even if they know about them. Who knows because they don’t communicate like they used to.

Your thoughts?

Thanks for reading and have a good one!

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hamlets-ghost-zaddy · 5 years

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queen of peace

Part 1/10

Shifty Powers x Reader

Summary: He fights with a rifle, you with a needle. When the toll of taking lives grows too high on him, you’re there to stitch his ripped seams and patch him together again (after all, you’re awfully good at taking what’s old and giving it new life)

You think of the War as bolts of fabric clustering the high shelves of Mother’s workshop—that first warm, dry September is silk, when politicians blustered over the radio, spewing threats and spittle, but women would turn down the volume knob so they could order simpering cocktail gowns with a slit up to there. Wool is the following winter, dyed peacock blue to stain your fingers as you coaxed the boring needing in-and-out, in-and-out to attach a fresh fox fur from the autumn hunts for a New Year’s Eve cape. Then, spring bathed hot breaths on the snow and ice, and the radio buzzed so loud with news bulletins—the Netherlands invaded! Norway invaded! France invaded!—that no one dared reach for the knobs. It’s cotton, repressive in its purest form, and undesirable as the summer months swallowed you, Mother, and all of Europe whole. The months after, you’ll admit, you don’t think of as fabrics: instead, you see the receding stack of order slips on Mother’s desk, the bolts wound down to their cardboard bases and never replenished as those months of huddled terror bleed into years of exhausted fear. A fear so continuous, so daily, it has become a mundane reality: German bombs may rain down at any moment, even on tiny Aldbourne.

More pressing, it seems, is the grasping fingers of hunger digging out your stomach, of worry gnawing at your bone marrow, always wondering where the coin may come from to by next week’s groceries or pay this week’s bills. What did it matter if hellfire and fury choked out your life? You and Mother face down the reality you’re too expensive to live, anyway.

Then, the Americans come.

You know they came a week before—you’d need to deaf to not hear the procession of snorting Jeeps and grumbling transport trucks creeping underneath the workshop and your bedroom windows at all hours—but you don’t see evidence of them about town.

“It’s because they’re doing How to be English classes up at the base. I’ve met an American, and that’s what he told me,” Margaret informs you, eyebrows waggling, as she leans over the postmaster’s counter, elbows braced and shoulders hunched conspiringly. As the postmaster’s daughter, Margaret often lingers around the office, feigning offering her ‘help’ as an attempt to sniff out tidbits of town gossip. Yet, back when bolts of snow-white muslin, soft as a springtime breeze, or real China silk, shimmering and canary yellow, arrived for you and your Mother’s orders, she’d insist of squealing over it with you. She’s a good friend. “They’ve got mountains of letters back there, you know. Dad’s going bonkers.”

Knowing Margaret’s definition of ‘bonkers’ encompassed both good things—like the annual Midsummer Ice Cream Social—and bad things—like pop arithmetic classes back when you were in grammar school together—you ask, “Is he all right?”

“Well, he has me, doesn’t he? Free labor and all that.” Frowning, she squints at you, adding, “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m all right? I’m doing all the heavy lifting, here!” Laughing, you shake your head, and Margaret seems pleased to have caused a laugh and contents herself to a conspiring wink: “I’ve been meaning to tell you, some American officers are being housed in the village . . .” Another eyebrow waggle that, frankly, ought to be illegal.

Eyeing Margaret’s grin, you point out, “Your dad would have a conniption if an American officer got within ten feet of you.”

Obviously imaging her father’s temple vein bulging worryingly, Margaret frowns. “You’re right.” She sounds more disappointed than she has any right to be. She puffs a breath, her bangs fluttering. “Then there’s Tommy Beale, of course.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes; Margaret and Tommy have been dancing around each other since first grade, gifting each other with shiny baubles, hurried kisses on the cheek, and brilliant blushes. It reminds you of a nature program you once listened to on the BBC as you sewed a kimono (a pink pearl silk confection, ordered after a particularly luxurious London socialite returned from a steamer-ship trip to Japan and was ‘dying’ for her own kimono) that described how a certain type of bird in the Amazon would ritualistic dance around its desired mate in great, skittery hops, never truly engaging. You doubt Margaret would appreciate the metaphor.

The bell above the office door tinkles, Margaret straightening and her eyes sparking. “Private Vest!” she greets. You turn, eyebrows raised.

Evidently, the boy with a rounded nose and an easy grin, currently moving in great strides to belly up to the post counter is the one American Margaret has met. Only, it’s not one American in the office; a second lingers by the door, a dark-haired young man who seems unsure if he should follow Vest, swiped-off cap worked into a crumpled wad in his nervous hands. His eyes flit to you—and it may be your imagination, Lord knows it runs awry when you’re sewing for hours—but pink seems to trickle into his cheeks. “Heya, Maggie,” the first American greets.

“Nice of you to show your face, Vest,” Margaret—since when has she ever introduced herself as ‘Maggie,’ you wonder—returns. To you, she adds: “Y/n, be friendly, why don’t you, and say hello. This is Private Vest, the post officer for the Americans.”

Offering his hand, Vest says, “Pleasure to meet you, but I’m not the only mail boy.” He jerks his chin to the other American boy. “Of course, lucky Shifty over here has only been assigned to help me for the day. Word is you’ve got quite a backlog of mail for me, Maggie?” His eyes dart back to her.

“An understatement,” she intones before waving Vest around the counter. As the two disappear into the sorting room, the door swinging in their wake, Margaret says: “Come witness the horror yourself.”

You watch the door, creaking on its hinges, until it eases to a stop, slightly ajar and allowing Vest’ exclamation over the sheer amount of post awaiting him to slip out. Yet, without Margaret, the post office feels stilled—silent and tense—and your skin prickles with the knowledge of the other American lurking at the door, somewhere behind you, unseen unless you pointedly turn around. It’d require you breaking the palpable awkwardness. A blush creeps up from beneath your collar at the mere thought.

The creak of weight moving over floorboards. Then, the American leans against the counter at your side. You try very hard not to squeak in surprise (you’re fairly sure you don’t succeed).

Your eyes dare to dart to his sleeve—olive green, an eagle patch, two puckering, pinky-sized holes—and away, as if you might be caught staring. Silence; he stands still at your side. You dare to look at the uniform’s shirtfront—a silver pair of wings, medals—and away again just as quickly.

A cleared throat. Measured words, as if the American isn’t sure he should speak at all—as if he’s been mightily debating it and still doesn’t quite agree with his decision: “Pardon me, ma’am; I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable . . . I, uh,” He fumbles to a stop, apparently stricken with a thought. “I’m sorry, but are you uncomfortable? I shouldn’t have assumed, I suppose, um . . .” As he talks, you focus on your fingers, half-curled on the counter, to keep from getting hot all-over at the thought of the boy’s liquid eyes on you, darker than a nighttime sky.

His accent softens his voice, melting the vowels and blurring the consonances, and you’re reminded of sticks of butter, set out for baking. You feel the warm sigh of an oven door opening in his words, and at the edge of the air, you can almost taste sugar cookies fresh from baking. It’s been years since you’ve had real butter or white sugar, since you could afford such luxuries as baked goods. You wistfully dream of sweets, speculating if you truly remember the taste, before your eyes involuntarily dart to his lips. A thought flits through your head: Would he taste just as sweet?

Blinking away your daydreams, fighting the sinking horror at yourself and your own silliness, you reply, “Um, no, that’s all right—err, that is, I’m all right. Unless, are you uncomfortable?”

It strikes you briefly that this is a ridiculous conversion, exchanged more to the counter you both stare determinedly at than to each other. He replies, words tripping over each other in their rush: “Of course not! I just thought I ought to say something since we were both standing here and . . .” His rush leaves him winded and unsure how to continue.

Smiling, taking pity on him—you can imagine that earlier blush you saw him wearing deepening now, but you’re too shy to peek and confirm—you offer, “We could always get to know each other with some questions.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, relieved, “Yes, that’s a good idea. So, um, do you, um, live here? In Aldbourne, that is?”

“Yes, I do, with my mother. We’re seamstresses,” you reply. “What about you? Where are you from in America?”

“Virginia,” he replies, and you note the glow of pride in the single word, the puff of his chest you register in your periphery.

Hoping to elicit the same reaction again, you prod, “What did you do in Virginia?”

“Worked for a few years before all of this, but I spent my younger years hunting. I ran all over the forest and mountains, pretending like I was the first one to ever see it. Like I was in one of those adventure books my Pa read to me at night.”

“My Mother read Treasure Island to me when I was a girl,” you share, smile soft at the memory.

You feel him smiling at your smile. “That’s one of my Pa’s favorites, too, though I always wanted him to read Huckleberry Finn over, and over, and over again. He read it so much it began to fall apart!” Pause, then: “Have you read it?”

“No, I don’t believe so?”

“Well, you ought to; maybe I’m inclined to liking it because I like the idea of a barefoot boy being the hero, but I think it’s real good.” He says it with enough conviction, that you’re half-tempted to scamper to Aldbourne’s modest library that very second. He hums thoughtfully. “You know, even though I read all those adventures, I’ve never actually been farther than fifty miles from home before now.”

“This must be some change, huh?” you ask, coaxing yourself to look at him at an angle, hiding behind your fluttering lashes. It’s easier to look at him sideways, to pretend like you’re still talking to the counter, than face this strange American boy with a soft voice and nervous hands and hurrying words. Somehow, and you can’t say why, looking at him squarely seems like too much too soon.

“Yeah, I reckon so.” Silence, and you track how his fingers wring his cap. You want to snatch it from his hands, to hurry home to the workshop and take the iron—always hot and ready to press a sewn piece once it is deemed finished—to the wrinkles the boy is working in to it. “I’m Shifty, by the way. It’s my nickname, so if you don’t want to call me that, my real name is Darrell.”

“Does anyone call you Darrell?” you ask, though you like turning his nickname over and over in your head, pretending to say it in varying tones and registers, fascinated with the warmth it sends, flooding your limbs.

“Um, well, no, ma’am.”

You grin, finally prompted into meeting his eyes and a soft ‘oh’ escapes your parted lips. Darker than nighttime, his eyes met yours steadily. A depth makes them appear to gleam—a liquid night—yet the brown isn’t monochrome: light catches from the scones on the walls, the overhead fixture, sending twinkling stars into those eyes, a constellation with more unknowns and mysteries than the cosmos.

Suddenly, it becomes very pressing to think of something to say. You point to his sleeves, managing to squeak out: “Holes!”

“Huh?” Your insides tighten, shriveling into themselves, because he tilts his head ever so slightly in confusion and you could faint under that angle of those inquiring eyebrows.

You train your eyes on the holes in his uniform, focusing hard on formulating a coherent sentence. “The holes in your sleeves: I can fix them for you; patch them and have it good as new.”

“Holes?” he repeats, alarm coloring the word as he grabs at his sleeve, raising the fabric for his inspection. His face blanches. “Ah, gee, Sobel is going to murder me,” he mutters.

You repeat your offer, tacking on: “I can get it done before tea time, even.”

“Would you?” Shifty exclaims, dropping his sleeve to snatch up one of your hands. Every nerve in you sings with the contact—his hard callouses from soldiering slotting against yours from sewing; you’ll later think the sensation is quite lovely, really—while your muscles stiffen, screaming with panic. “I’d be really in your debt, ma’am; you’d be saving my skin from a hiding, I’m telling you.”

And something about the plains of his face—boyish softness disguising, and not very well, the hardness of manhood that training has meticulously chiseled in his face—something about how you’re sure the War will finish sculpting a man from the boy in front of you, prompts you to let Shifty hold your hand. Prompts you to politely excuse yourself when Vest and Margaret reappear, asking for Shifty’s assistance, the holey jacket in hand a promise left in your wake. As you hurry home, tossing waves and hellos to neighbors you’d usually linger with, you feel purpose ballooning your chest.

You feel purpose you haven’t known since before the orders dried up and, for the first time in a month, you forget entirely about your hunger.

. . .

True to your word, you send the jacket to the American base an hour before tea time, holes patched with neat, minuscule stitches. You even cleaned up the threads around his patches, starched and pressed the fabric, and you toy with the fanciful idea of seam-ripping the patches off and realign them. You wish you could back the jacket-liner with the last of your olive satin and replace the buttons with real brass instead of the cheap, brass-foil kind. But, you restrain yourself, remembering your promise.

Before dinnertime, a package appears in the mailbox. Mother fetches it and stares down, confused at the nameless delivery, a book swaddled in brown paper in her hands. When you peer over her shoulder and see The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, you don’t need a signature for proof of sender.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #shifty powers image #shifty powers x reader #shifty powers #hope yall like it #my writing #in honor of d-day and all the brave men and women who lost their lives

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atopearth · 5 years

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Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Part 1 - First game (Turnabout Sisters, Turnabout Samurai and Turnabout Goodbyes)

So, I was going to buy this on Steam, but then I recently got a Nintendo Switch (so I can play Code Realize and Collar x Malice next year loll), and it was on sale! Since I had no games (I bought World End Syndrome but it’s not here yet), and I really wanted to try playing stuff, so I bought it XD Two of my friends really recommend it as well, so yeah I would have bought it some day anyway~ I think I should have bought an SD card with bigger storage than 64gb though… (EDIT: I did...)

Anyway, the game! It’s a bit sudden to be thrown into trial all of a sudden, but Wright is a newbie lawyer anyway so I guess it’s all good loll. Kinda funny that the questions the reader has to answer are simple stuff like the victim’s name etc but I guess it helps you get used to remembering things, and looking over evidence etc if you don’t remember. Because I did forget the victim’s name hahaha. Honestly though, the style of the game is really cool and different, I really like the transitions for effect and I love the big font “hold it!” and “objection!” has hahaha. Mia is very helpful. In terms of the case itself, it was a simple and silly one, mainly because of Larry, he’s so dramatic and ridiculous, it’s funny. Note though, this is probably blasphemy to others but I’m playing with a walkthrough (i.e. I pick my answers and then double check with the walkthrough), I just don’t find it fun or have the time to explore wrong answers anymore tbh (backlog of VNs is long, I’ve got at least 6 more games). Anyway, I like how the game wants you to think but you don’t necessarily need to think too hard (for now), and it’s all done in a not so serious way that makes it fun. Like, I loved it when the judge said Larry was not guilty and confetti started falling down on the screen hahahaha. I think this game will be a great break from Steins;Gate 0 right now lol.

Turnabout Sisters I remember trying to watch the anime of Ace Attorney (which sucked, it was like the game but all the fun was gone because it was less interactive yet still played out like a game, it was weird) and being shocked that Mia died. I was so sad because I liked her, she seemed nice and cool. I kinda forgot about all that until this part started up and then I was like oh yeah!! Poor sister got arrested for it though, but I guess Phoenix needs a reason to do something. It was saddening when the sister didn’t have anyone to defend her😞 It was sweet when he decided to defend her, since he became a lawyer because he wanted to become someone that could look out for people who had no one by their side… When he says it like that…it’s hard to not admire how kind he is.

Lmaooo at Miss May and the bellboy though, I love how weirdly crazy they both are. May is like fake and sweet when she’s in her “cute” mode, but becomes super aggressive when angered (such as being caught out for lying), and the bellboy is just thankful that now the hotel is more popular because a murderer (May is being suspected now) lived there hahahaha. Everyone is so eccentric in this world. I find their mother’s story saddening though, she was probably pressured by the police into finding the culprit for a case with her spirit medium powers, but then she failed and the media got wind of it, and the backlash she received as a “fake” made her disappear. Disgusted that Grossberg was the one who told White (Mia’s killer) about the medium thing for money, and White then leaked it to the media! But I think the worst is that Mia tried her best all these years to out White for being the one who ruined her mother’s life (as well as many others with his blackmailing leading them to suicide), but she got killed by him… It’s so unfair.. I’m glad Maya is out though, and lmao at her taking it so seriously when you pick the option of telling her to help break Phoenix out (since he’s in detention now for suspected murder because of White’s influence). She’s so cute hahaha.

Well, that was a crazy trial lol, not only was White a chronic liar that was allowed to “amend” his testimony several times, Edgeworth was pretty apt at trying to keep him from being caught. I knew the receipt would show when the lamp was bought! Kinda obvious when he mentioned that he saw it last week I guess, gotta catch him somewhere haha. I guess the lesson is to update your furniture often so you can catch murderers😂 It was really nice to see Mia’s spirit inside Maya helping Phoenix and cheering them on in the epilogue though, I wonder if we’ll see her again? I definitely like Mia more than Maya😞 But I guess with Maya, they’ll learn and grow together as they do their best for the law office?

Turnabout Samurai I love Oldbag, she’s so whatever with everything, she’s hilarious. Not only does she talk nonstop complaining about young people these days, she really knows how to drag people into her pace lol. The defendant Will looks like a lion hahaha, except he’s one with no teeth since he seems way too gentle to be able to do anything. Anyway, gotta love how dodgy Oldbag is by omitting evidence, remembering things suddenly, as well as exposing that the directors etc were actually there as well but the studio wanted her to hide it. Btw, I love it when Phoenix wants to buy time by accusing someone else of the murder, and one of the options was the grade school boy, and when you pick the option, even Phoenix himself is startled that he said it and he himself doesn’t even know how he should support this as a possibility since the kid couldn’t have held the weapon hahaha.

HAHAHA THE GREAT SAL MANELLA. That name lmaoo😂😂 Nice to see Mia again to help Phoenix, I love her and how she was so capable in getting the kid to talk. I found it really interesting going through the kid’s testimony, since it really presented a proper reason for the kid to lie and have obstructed the court from getting to know the truth. Not only is he a kid, he’s a kid that believes his hero Steel Samurai would never lose, so him deleting the photos of him losing to the villain and lying about him winning are plausible and interesting to uncover, I liked that part. I don’t know why I never thought of the possibility that Jack Hammer was actually the Steel Samurai, even though I questioned from the beginning whether Studio One was really where he was killed haha. Now that it’s apparent the victim dressed as the Steel Samurai and went to Studio Two where everyone else was, it is now possible for the producer and them to have killed the victim within the 15 minute break they had… Oh yeah lmao when the kid came to testify and he was too short so they got him a box to stand on, I love little details like that hahaha.

Well, I really liked that! I really liked how everything ended up wrapping up and how the story tied together. I had some trouble (as usual!) with the presenting evidence parts (because I suck), but yeah that was great! I don’t know why it never clicked, but I really missed the thought that Hammer was the one who wanted to kill Vasquez and that’s why he did all that pretending to be the Steel Samurai and hiding his tracks etc, so he could blame the killing on Powers after. He had enough of being blackmailed and used by Vasquez these 5 years for accidentally killing a person on set (of which she covered up, since someone took a photo of it). It’s kinda ironic that he ended up dying in the same way as the person he accidentally killed. Maybe Studio Two really is cursed lol. But yeah, anyway, I really liked the piecing of all the evidence and clues! Seeing it unravel the way it did really made sense, especially when things I noticed but didn’t know what to think about were talked about, such as the small incinerator next to the van. I couldn’t piece together the story myself, but when they did, it was great, I liked this case. I also really liked how Edgeworth suddenly switched sides and started questioning the witness and the holes in her testimony as well because he knew that she was the killer and he wanted to catch her in her lies, since Phoenix missed some things. They were a nice combo haha.

Turnabout Goodbyes I didn’t think Edgeworth would become a defendant! But I guess what I’m most shocked about is that Edgeworth’s father was the victim in the DL-6 incident involving Mia and Maya’s mother, Misty Fey who was the spirit medium helping out with the case that led her to be labelled as a fraud. Edgeworth seems to really like Phoenix but can’t seem to be honest for some reason, hmmm, and I guess his father’s death is related to why he threw away his dream of becoming a great defence attorney like his father and instead became a prosecutor? Oh.. Edgeworth actually witnessed his father’s murder…and the suspect they caught was the one Misty pointed out as the killer through talking to the victim’s spirit, since he was the only one that could have done it, and yet he was declared innocent with the help of the defence attorney at that time, Hammond. And now, the victim in the current case is Hammond… I guess the police would think of that as Edgeworth’s motive to kill him… I wonder if Edgeworth lost all faith in defence attorneys because of that incident with his father.. But I’m happy that the weird Detective Gumshoe really respects Edgeworth and believes in him even though others don’t, I thought it was really nice that he acknowledged and believes that they can really work hard to capture criminals because they know that Edgeworth will prosecute them for their crimes. It’s like they both believe in their work and through that, they do their best to catch these criminals.

Well, it was obvious that the girl was dodgy because it’s definitely impossible to see who shot who when it’s foggy, and at night, and at a far distance! But it’s helpful to prove that she wasn’t even focused on the boat and was looking for the “monster” Gourdy that supposedly appears there. Gotta admit that Karma is hilarious, especially when he insults the witness’s intelligence for looking for a monster hahahaha. Also loved it when even the judge couldn’t go against him and followed his pace, glad the judge eventually stood his ground though lol. I still find it so fascinating that in this world, all trials must be tried and decided within 3 days so that the justice system isn’t clogged with cases. Aww it was so sweet to learn from Gumshoe that Edgeworth really appreciated Maya causing a fuss in the trial and giving the opportunity for Phoenix to cross examine what Lotta slipped up on. Lmao when he told Phoenix that Edgeworth would pay for her bail and he started thinking about whether Edgeworth would pay his rent for this month too hahahaha. Omgg, lmao at Gourdy the monster actually being Larry trying to inflate the Steel Samurai balloon and failing, causing it to fly like a rocket into the lake lolll. I guess he does deserve having the dog eat all his Samurai dogs loll. It was expected, but it’s kinda funny to see Larry come to save the day when Edgeworth was declared guilty haha.

Omgg, their back story was so touching! I thought it was so cute seeing little Edgeworth say “objection!”, and Edgeworth is right, if there’s no evidence, and if he didn’t do it, then he shouldn’t admit it! I also loved Larry saying “if he didn’t do it, then he didn’t do it”, those words were so simple but so true. I can’t believe the whole class put Phoenix on “class trial” to get him to admit something he didn’t do, and even the teacher didn’t believe him, like whaaat, great teaching right there. But I guess it’s because of how dodgy they all were, Phoenix, Larry and Edgeworth got to become friends. I found it really sweet that although Edgeworth transferred out because of the DL-6 incident, and never contacted them again, and ignored Phoenix when he tried to talk to him, it was really touching of Phoenix to become a defence attorney just so that he can meet Edgeworth again. Edgeworth is a prosecutor so regardless of what he wanted, he’d have to face Phoenix eventually and I thought that was really cute. Lmao at Larry completely forgetting about such an impactful incident on Phoenix’s life, but it’s so him. He’s silly, but he’s a great guy, and he really helped out with this testimony! It was all over the place, but he heard really important things and you gotta be glad he came to save the day! I honestly didn’t expect the murder to have occurred before midnight, and that the one in the boat with Edgeworth was actually not the victim but the murderer. It’s honestly…hard to believe and accept that Edgeworth could be the one who killed his father when he threw a gun (evidence?) that was lying next to him to protect his father from Yogi who was deprived of oxygen. I’m still sceptical of that though, what about the hole in the glass? And why would there be a person telling Yogi to get revenge on Edgeworth etc for ruining his life (for being suspected, losing his career etc) and making him kill Hammond etc. Whyyyy would they show von Karma the letter!! It’s such crucial evidence!! I’m not surprised he used a stun gun on them to steal the letter back!

Anyway, that was good, I really liked this case. I think the most saddening thing was discovering that Yogi really was innocent and really had his whole life ruined from this incident. It was terrible to hear that Hammond got him an innocent verdict but it was actually at the cost of declaring him of unsound mind, so he’s been pretending to be “insane” all these years, especially after his fiancee committed suicide after this incident. He wasn’t wrongly accused for being the murderer and yet he still lost his career, his partner and everything in his life. It was really saddening to think about tbh. As for von Karma, when this case first came about, I really didn’t expect him to be the killer in the DL-6 incident, I thought he was interestingly eccentric with how he wants everything to be perfect and was super arrogant and would always strive for guilty verdicts but I guess with the comedy in the game, I didn’t really expect the cost of his actions. He was caught for giving faulty evidence by Edgeworth’s father Gregory, and that is the one and only scar to his record. He’s been dodgy all this time and probably incriminating many innocent people in these 15 years at least, sigh. I guess I didn’t think that just because there was an opportunity, he would actually kill Gregory (when Miles threw the gun and it ended up landing near him). I also didn’t expect him to have been shot by that misfire and for him to never have taken that bullet out of his shoulder because he didn’t want to create any doctors as a witness to this! Which is understandable though, but wow, he’s pretty hardcore. So yeah, that was awesome and I think it was my favourite case! I really liked how things flowed and how everything ended up piecing together like that. It’s really cool to see how the evidence matches up together.

Lmao at Larry having been the thief that stole Edgeworth’s money in that Phoenix class trial incident, I honestly thought it might be him but I was like nahh. And it was him hahahaha omg. I guess the deserves getting dumped by girls all the time lol. The photo Lotta took at the end was nice, I also really liked the little snippets showing all the previous witnesses lives, lmao at that bellboy becoming the owner or something lol! Although Maya isn’t useless and really helps Phoenix by just being there and helping him think through things etc, I do think it’s good for her to complete her spirit medium training first and then come back. It’s important for her to have her own goals and stuff after all, so I’m glad she did that.

#phoenix wright ace attorney

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damienthepious · 5 years

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*flipkicks into Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday nearly late with Cool Sunglasses and a new offering of Fic*

The Rite Of Movement (Chapter 3)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [ao3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5]

[Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep, Original Monster Character(s)

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Engagement, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Poetry, Presents, Monster Customs, Dancing

Fic Summary: Arum has a surprising revelation about his own feelings, and then decides to take matters into his own claws since his humans don't seem to realize what they are denying themselves.

Chapter Summary: A conversation before and after a long day, and a correspondence returned.

Chapter Notes: Heck I still don't know how to write summaries properly. Anyway. It's Tuesday again! Time for me to compulsively post fic. Love y'all <3 ]

After Rilla and Damien come through the portal back into her hut, after the vines recede into the trough-shaped flowerpot full of swamp dirt in the corner, there’s a moment when they meet each other’s eyes.

And then they both burst into laughter. Damien presses a hand to his heart as if to keep it still, and Rilla guffaws in a completely undignified way until Damien lifts her in a fierce hug.

“I can’t believe him-”

“He wants to marry us, my love!”

“He was so nervous about it too did you see-”

“His hands upon our own were steady but I saw his other hands clasped together to keep from shaking- oh Rilla our brave beast came to us with his very heart in those beautiful trembling hands! A display of such courage, such vulnerability-”

“Don’t let him hear you call him vulnerable or he’ll sulk for a week,” Rilla says, and as Damien sets her back down she drops her head to rest on his shoulder and she grins and grins and grins. “Oh, Saints…”

“I fear I will be utterly useless today,” Damien admits, smiling shyly. “Our engagement will be dancing in my mind at every moment, and I will be unable to share the source of my joy.”

“You can tell Angelo, at least,” Rilla says, drifting away from him to go get changed. “And honestly, Damien, I really don’t think anyone is gonna be surprised if you’re caught up feeling romantic today. It’s not like it’s never happened before, you know? Just- be a little more vague than normal when you speak your heart.”

Damien considers that, then nods. “I suppose you are right,” he says, and then he glances at his fiancée with just a hint of worry. He works his jaw for a long moment before the words blurt out of him, the irrational worry he needs to hear Rilla dismiss. “You don’t think that he- that Lord Arum is only asking to wed because he thinks it’s what we want, do you?”

“Damien,” Rilla shimmies into a new skirt, steps back over to him and places a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t mean it.” She aims a stern look at him, squeezing his shoulder. “C’mon, Damien, you know him better than that by now.”

“No, no, of course… of course you’re right.” He pauses. “He… of course he wants…”

“Damien. He made us chocolates,” she says, and the way her lip is curved, the soft, surprised pleasure in her smile, it eases the tension trying to build in Damien’s chest. “If it was just obligation- he wouldn’t have made us a gift, right? He wouldn't have bothered to explain how monsters do marriage, and he definitely wouldn’t have looked that nervous about it. He thought-” she bites her lip, and her expression is so deeply fond that it makes Damien’s heart sing. “Dummy thought we might actually say no.”

Damien considers that idea for a moment, the idea of not wanting to marry Lord Arum and Rilla, and it is nigh incomprehensible. He shakes his head. “We- we should treat him to a gesture in kind,” Damien says, the thought striking him suddenly and filling him with glee. “An engagement gift in return! He deserves- he deserves to have his sweetness returned to him, as he has treated us to such sweetness himself.”

“Saints you’re adorable,” Rilla breathes, and she kisses him quickly before she continues. “I think that’s a great idea. What did you have in mind?”

Damien furrows his brow. “Er- well, I could compose a-”

Rilla bursts into laughter again before he can finish the thought, and Damien stops and smiles, chagrined. “You’re always composing a something. It’s a very sweet thought, your poetry is always lovely, but maybe something more- out of the box?”

“Out of the box,” he echoes, musing. “Hmmm. I am not sure what sort of token of affection he would enjoy, my Rilla, and gifts were not a part of my original proposal,” he says. “Besides the rings, of course.”

Rilla blinks, and then a sly smile blooms across her face. Damien’s heart swells at the sight, as it always does, and then with sparkling eyes Rilla takes Damien’s hand.

“Okay, so, that gives me an idea.”

Arum’s messenger finds him out on the balcony, where he is sunning himself and certainly not pouting that Damien and Amaryllis are not there to warm him personally this afternoon. They still have some appearances to make near the Citadel, of course; Amaryllis with her numerous undeserving patients and Sir Damien- doing whatever Knights do when they aren’t out in the world, slaying monsterkind. It simply seems unfair, that they must be away from him so soon after agreeing to marry him.

He hears a thrumming noise and feels a soft brush at his elbow. The bee (from his hive on the uppermost part of the Keep, modified and ensorceled to be resilient and obedient and the approximate size of a generous loaf of bread) flies into his upper left arm a second time, a fuzzy buzzing whump that pulls him from his near-nap with a snarling yawn. When he looks down, she is nudging insistently against his elbow, and the little scroll case clutched in her claws has a new missive inside. He lifts the creature gently, unbuckles the scroll case, and informs her that she has done an excellent job before he sends her back towards the hive.

When he is alone on the balcony again, the Keep warbles a question and he scowls, staring at the scroll in his claws with a combination of nerves and excitement tossing around in his guts.

“I suppose we shall see,” he says with a sigh, and the Keep responds gently. He scowls. “Of course not. Nothing to fear regardless- if they disapprove of my position then I shall be glad not to have them attend. We don’t need them anyway. I desire to be married and I shall be, regardless of whether I can find a monster to declare it so. I will declare us married myself if need be.”

The Keep trills amusement.

“Call me cute again and just see what happens to you,” he mutters darkly, the scroll nearing danger in his flexing claws. “That herbalist has been a horrible influence on you, you ridiculous plant.”

It sings a distinctly unapologetic apology and Arum scowls again, but the expression slides from his face as soon as he unrolls the parchment. The Keep sings again, impatient and curious, and Arum waves a hand in the air with a hiss as his eyes dart through the correspondence.

“They- Eld Mosshorn wishes to attend,” he says in a stunned whisper. “They wish to come with their interpreter and- and they have agreed to preside over the ceremony.”

A ripple of small pale flowers bloom across the balcony as the Keep sings its joy, and Arum tries to hide his smile in a scoff.

“As I told you, nothing to fear at all. They say they will be near enough to pay a call on us close to the full moon after next, and that the full moon itself will be an auspicious day for the ceremony.”

It’s a little more than a month away, as if Eld Mosshorn knows precisely when Arum desires them to come. As if the universe itself is on Arum’s side.

The Keep sings a strangely stilted question, and Arum pauses his reading to glance up with a furrowed brow.

“What?” He scowls, dismissive. “Why would they ask about you?” His eyes dart back to the scroll to read further along, and then he wrinkles his snout in confusion. “They- they say, that they anticipate a lovely reunion with… with the “soul of the swamp itself” upon their arrival.” He pauses, his mouth hanging slightly open. “What.”

The Keep hums in smug pleasure, then warbles a quick, dismissive triplet.

“What-” he starts again, and then he shakes his head. “Irrelevant. What do I care if the two of you ancients have some new gossip to exchange? All that matters is that Mosshorn isn’t going to go inform on me to the Senate or worse. They want to- to help.” He pauses, staring down at the parchment again for a long, long moment, his thumb brushing the edge of the page. “They actually want to help me marry Amaryllis and Sir Damien.”

He doesn’t realize the Keep has lifted out a vine to curl gently around his shoulder until he feels its touch, and he snarls automatically though he doesn’t pull away. Another trick the Keep has learned from his humans, this almost-hug. He lifts a clawed hand to grip the vine, reading the words again as it sings to him in softness, in support.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. After a pause, he rolls the parchment back up, sniffing primly and gently untangling himself from the embrace of the Keep. “Well, that’s quite enough of that, I think. Open a way to my room, if you would. I believe I have an invitation or two I should begin to compose.”

When Rilla returns home in the evening, exhausted after dealing with her backlog of housecalls, Damien is waiting for her. He sits on the stump in front of her hut, busily scratching away at a long piece of parchment, weaving together drafts of verse with a distant look on his face. He doesn’t even notice her approaching until she wraps her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck and making him jolt, a sharp line of ink skittering across the page in response.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, patting his shoulder sympathetically, but he’s grinning wide when he drops his paper and turns in her arms to pull her into a hug.

“At last, my love returns!”

“It’s only been a few hours, Damien,” she says through a laugh. “Did you manage to hold yourself together today?”

“As best as I was able,�� Damien replies. “Sir Angelo knew that I was acting oddly, but he said it was a pleasant oddness rather than the alternative and he did not ask many questions.”

“You didn’t tell him yet?” Rilla asks, pulling Damien to his feet and helping him collect the parchment before they head inside.

“I did not have a moment alone with him,” Damien says wryly, and then he sighs as the door shuts behind them. “Besides, I think it will be best to wait until we have a date chosen before I start bandying invitations around.”

Rilla notices the note sitting innocently in front of the flowerpot, and she picks it up to read as Damien busies himself putting away his new poetry drafts. “Well,” she says as she reads, “looks like you don’t have to worry too much about that part of it.” She lifts the note and gestures with it. “Arum must’ve had the Keep send this through sometime today. Apparently his monster priest agreed to go along with this whole monster-human marriage thing.”

Damien presses a hand to his chest, eyes shining. “So quickly!”

“Well, we don’t know how long ago Arum asked, I guess,” she shrugs and looks at the note again. “He says his priest suggested the full moon after next.” She tilts her head as she does the math. “Full moon is… four or five days from now? So just barely over a month. Huh. It’s like this guy read Arum’s mind…”

“A month,” Damien breathes. “So soon and yet so far, I would be content to wed you both tonight if I could-”

“I know, Damien,” Rilla says fondly, folding the note and tucking it between a few pages of her research. “I know you would.”

His smile fades off just a bit, a worry from the back of his mind rising to the surface. He hesitates, but he can’t help himself, can’t keep himself from asking. “And you, my love?”

She blinks, then looks at him in confusion. “And me, what?”

“Are you… truly content with the speed at which this is progressing, my flower? A month feels like an age for my impatient heart, but I know that you had reservations about rushing through our engagement before…”

Rilla’s brow furrows, just a bit, and then she sighs. “I’m not in as much of a hurry as the two of you apparently are, no,” she admits wryly, “but it’s hard not to get caught up in the excitement. We’ve been through a lot together, you and me, all three of us together- and I want to get married to you, Damien.” She reaches out and cups his cheek, smiling. “I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to. And I wanna get married to Arum, too, even if I didn’t think that was even an option like two days ago.”

“I was only…” he pauses. “I was never sure why you postponed for so long, during our original engagement. I convinced myself over and over again that you did not want to marry at all, that you were only humoring me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rilla says gently. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“Can I…” he winces, then reaches a hand up to press her own against his cheek again. “May I ask why you were hesitant, before?”

“I didn’t-” Rilla bites her lip, sighs at herself, and drops her hand. When she’s safely stepped back a pace, she lifts her eyes to meet Damien’s again with a self-deprecating smile. “Look, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this or anything, okay?” She pauses, and Damien nods. She worries her lip between her teeth for a moment, and then she says, “If I’m being honest, the biggest reason I kept putting off setting a date was that I didn’t want to get married if my parents weren’t gonna be there to see it.”

“Oh.” Damien’s eyes widen in surprise, his heart giving a painful lurch. “Oh, my Rilla I am-”

“Don’t- don’t get all- sappy about it,” she snaps, waving a hand in the air and scowling to the side. “I just thought- if there was a chance they could come back, maybe if I just waited a little longer maybe they’d be able to be there. Which was stupid, obviously. But now…”

“Now?” Damien asks, hesitant when she pauses for a breath or two longer than is comfortable.

“Well,” she says, voice dull, “it’s not like I could have brought them to a wedding with a monster anyway, right?” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually- I don’t really want to talk about this. We’re engaged twice over and I’d really rather go back to being excited about that right now.”

Damien makes himself smile, gentle, and pulls Rilla into a hug. “Of course, my love. I am sorry if I pushed you.”

She thwacks him on the shoulder gently, rolling her eyes. “I’m fine, Damien.”

“I know you are. You are substantially more accomplished at being fine than I am, my flower, but you wished to go back to excitement over our engagement and that means that I would like to hold you in my arms.” He does just that for a moment, swaying slightly as if in an understated dance, before he continues. “And, if you will allow, I would very much like to kiss you, now.”

“Damien.” She’s smiling again, the expression Damien most cherishes, most delights in causing. She leans in and the smile melts into a kiss that sings through Damien, that flows through him like a river of liquid light, every time. When she pulls away again she laughs softly against his lips, resting her forehead against his, and the feeling almost overwhelms him.

“I love you so much, Rilla,” he murmurs. “I will be so, so grateful to be your husband.”

“I love you too,” she says, voice soft and eyes closed, and she kisses him again before she leans back, taking his hands in her own. “Now c’mon, we gotta get back to the Keep so you can distract our fiancé long enough for me to figure out his ring size.”

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #pls pls enjoy and tell me what you think!!!!#happy lizzer kiss day huzzah #the rite of movement

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yusuke-of-valla · 5 years

Text

Akekita Week Day 5: Firsts/Lasts

Summary: It’s Oblivio but Akekita

Or-

In which the amnesia condition works a little differently

AO3

When he wakes up, it’s dark and his whole body hurts. There's shattered pieces of glass around him and a sliver of light that allows him to put together that he's in some sort of alley, but little else.

He picks himself up off the ground and hears movement behind him. Reflexively, he moves backwards into the shadows and watches someone else pull themselves off the ground.

In the dim light, it can be observed that the other person is a young man wearing a strange outfit and a kitsune mask.

He watches Kitsune look around and take in his surroundings, and tenses as steely grey eyes lock on him.

"I can see you." Kitsune says, "white isn't really condusive to hiding in the shadows you know."

He frowns and looks down at himself. "Why am I wearing this?" he mutters as he takes in his princely garb.

"Who are you?" Kitsune asks.

That's the first moment where he realizes he doesn't know.

Rather than give the stranger anything though, he straightens.

"Don't you already know?"

Kitsune frowns. "My apologies. I can't seem to remember anything."

"That's unfortunate."

Kitsune doesn't appear to be lying, nor to be doubting that- fuck he needs something to call himself- might know more than him.

Stupid. Naïve. Who the hell trusts someone they just met.

But, similar outfits, similar situations, there's a chance you know each other. It'd be more efficient to admit you don't remember anything either and work together.

The two voices keep arguing in the back of his mind until finally he relents.

"I'll admit I don't have any memories either. I woke up here just before you," he says.

"Then this is quite the predicament." Something moves behind Kitsune as he's thinking. A... tail?

Cute.

The thought pops into his head and disappears just as quickly.

... weird.

"Well, Kitsune, it seems we'll have to work together," he says.

"Kitsune?"

"You don't know your name either right? I have to call you something, and given your mask, it's the obvious choice."

"Mask?" Kitsune reaches a hand up to his face, and proddingly removes the mask, staring at it in awe.

Kitsune is a very pretty, that's clear even in the dim light of the alleyway.

"So, Prince, shall we look around?" Kitsune says after a moment.

"Prince?"

Kitsune cocks his head to the side. "Would you prefer Tengu? I'm just trying to go by your outfit."

"No, Prince is fine."

Prince, huh? It's something, at least.

The two of them poke their heads out of the alleyway.

They're behind some sort of casino, with brilliant lights flashing all over the place. Prince squints and looks up, just barely being able to make out a small window that looked shattered.

"I think we came from up there," he says. He goes back to where he woke up and picks up the glass, then points to the window.

Kitsune nods. "Makes sense. Shall we go inside then?"

Prince is hesitant to just walk in, but Kitsune has already strode ahead. As they round the front he notes a larger, stained glass, window that has also been shattered.

No sooner had they gotten in the front doors had guards spotted them and started running over.

Prince grabs Kitsune's arm and starts pulling. "We should go."

"Well maybe they're-"

"SEIZE THE INTRUDERS!"

"-nevermind."

The turn and run, Prince leading Kitsune by the hand, and sprint down the street. Prince doesn't take note of the strange sensation as they move further away from the casino, just slips into another alleyway where they catch their breath.

It’s only when he turns to chew Kitsune out for not being more cautious, that he realizes the outfit that earned that nickname is gone. Prince looks down and sees his own outfit has become a heavy coat over a school uniform. When he looks back, the lights of the casine, which should be visible given its size, are gone.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, but I do have a wallet now!” Kitsune says, flipping through it. Eventually he pulls out a small card. “My name is… Yusuke Kitagawa. Looks like I’m a second year at someplace called Kosei.”

Prince pulls out his own wallet. “And I’m Goro Akechi.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Akechi.”

“Likewise.”

Next, Goro pulls out a phone. It’s sleek and modern, but when he turns it on, he finds a passcode prompt staring back at him.

“I don’t remember how to unlock this,” he sighs.

“Want to start going through passcodes?”

Goro rolls his eyes. “It’d wipe everything after the fifth wrong guess, and I doubt we’re that lucky.”

“Phones can do that?”

“...Anyway, what about you?”

Yusuke goes back to his own phone. “Well, mine isn’t locked, but it’s almost out of battery.”

Goro goes closer and peers around Yusuke’s shoulder, aware of how near they are and how it makes something flutter in his chest.

“I’ve got the address for Kosei. My ID says I’m boarding there, so we might want to head there to at least spend the night.” Yusuke says.

“Search your messages for the words ‘my room’ or something to see if you invited anyone up there.”

Yusuke nods, and with a few quick taps finds it. “I’m in the west dorms on the third floor.” His hand moves to his side and he flips through a ring of keys until he finds one with a number stamped on it. “Right, I have the key, should we go there?”

Goro nods, and they make their way to the dorms. Once Yusuke gets them in, he makes a beeline for the closet tosses a red hoodie at Goro.

“You can sleep in that, it’s yours.”

“How do you know that?”

“It was in one of the texts. Apparently you left it hear when you stayed over one night.”

Goro stares at the hoodie, then back at Yusuke. “I stayed over?”

“Yes.” Yusuke plugs the phone into the wall and begins to clear art supplies from the floor. “You can have the futon, if you want.”

Goro obliges, then quickly finds himself drifting off to sleep.

Goro isn’t sure what’s making his heart beat faster-- the knowledge that he’s so close to fulfilling his mission, the adrenaline of running from the guards, or the sheer weight of Yusuke’s hand in his as they turn a corner.

Yusuke pulls them into a supply closet and Goro is very aware of how close they are.

Close enough to kiss if they wanted to.

“I think they’re gone.” Yusuke says, interrupting that thought.

“Right.”

Goro opens the door, and they step out.

“Good, let’s meet with the others and-”

Suddenly there’s a shout, then a bright light, and Yusuke is thrown into him and they’re launched backwards-

Goro gasps awake. That didn’t feel like a dream… a memory? Even now, Goro can feel the exact details of what he saw slip from his mind, not helped by an insistent buzzing.

Goro looks over and sees his phone, still locked, but with a push notification that says he’s missed a lot of calls. There are a couple of messages he can read too, from which he gleans there was something he was supposed to do last night, but didn't.

Goro sighs and turns his phone off. It was useless if they couldn't unlock it anyway, and really how important could it be if Goro had decided to label the caller "Bitch"?

Even after his phone is turned off, there's still an incessant buzzing. He realizes that it's from Yusuke's phone, which is charging on the other side of the room. Goro gets up and carefully steps around Yusuke’s still sleeping form, and picks it up.

Goro opens the phone to find a truly ridiculous number of new message filling up the notification screen. Rather than the new messages, however, Goro’s attention is drawn to the conversation marked with his name.

He reads through the backlog.

Hey, want to grab lunch some time?

Thank you for taking me to the museum, I really enjoyed it.

Sorry I had to leave early this morning, work. I think I took your shirt by accident though.

That sort of stuff comes up again and again.

“Oh, you saw those.”

Goro jumps and nearly drops the phone at the sound of Yusuke’s voice.

“M-morning. Did you sleep well?” Goro asks.

“Fine. About those texts-”

Goro hands the phone back to Yusuke. “I had a dream,” he admits. “The two of us were together. I can’t exactly remember the details but between that and the texts I’m starting to think-”

“We may have been a couple?” Yusuke finishes. “I was thinking the same thing. There’s a sketchbook here, actually.” Yusuke picks the book in question and flips through the pages filled with sketches of Goro.

“Ah.”

There's an awkward silence where the two just stare at each other. Goro seizes the other boy up. Now that things are a bit calmer and he has a chance to really look at him, Goro can feel a pang in his chest when he looks at Yusuke.

It's Yusuke who eventually breaks the silence. "All that's in the fridge is some takeout curry, if you're hungry."

"Takeout?" Goro goes to the fridge to find it indeed barren, save for a container with a receipt attached to it.

He grins as he shows it off to Yusuke. "Looks like you bought takeout from this Leblanc place yesterday. If we want to figure out who we are and what we were doing, we should start there."

Yusuke smiles at him, and Goro feels like someone has sucked all the air out of his chest.

Was this how it felt the first time?

Goro coughs to give himself time to compose himself and offers a hand to Yusuke.

"Shall we get going then?"

#akekitaweek #akekita #goro akechi #yusuke kitagawa #persona 5 #alto writes #amnesia #wanna do more with this but it's long and late so #shrugs

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amyure · 6 years

Text

CASQUETTE’S EPISODE - PART 2

[Apologies for the huge gap between the two episodes X_X this slipped through my backlog somehow - Nab]

[Continuing the first half, here is the summary of the second half of CASQUETTE’S episode. - Esh]

Under Chacha's guidance, Miwako, who among the four ladies had the best acting ability, was told to infiltrate the building where Yotsugishi’s office was. She managed to get to the same floor as the office by disguising as a cleaning service lady, and right away found Yotsugishi on the phone in a hallway. While Miwako was talking with Chacha [over an earpiece], who told her to make contact, Yotsugishi noticed her and went, "Hey you!" *gasp* "Take this trash!" before he walked away while still talking (Miwako was like *cold sweat).

After that, she infiltrated the office. Miwako was going is this against the law? And Chacha was like, not really, you’re just brushing by it. Miwako was like TAT. Chacha told her to carry out the second phase of the plan, by first going to the women’s restroom... and a while later Miwako came out in a wig, disguised as an American girl and basically just copying Susu's style of talking (while also wondering if that style would fit her age).

She went to Yotsugishi, saying she wanted to deliver a present for a model friend, but her looks quickly caught his eye and he scouted her out. As they sat down, with Yotsugishi asking her to see the documents, Yotsugishi's phone rang and he had to leave Miwako alone to pick it up. However, it was just Chacha calling him ; when Yotsugishi came back, Miwako was gone.

Running away from the scene, Miwako tried to catch her breath, but a security guard saw her and asked for a pass, which she did not have. She ran away out of the building, asking Chacha for help as the guard came out running after her. At that moment, Mimi's car skidded over and she said, "Hop on!"

...Back at the dorm, they examined the documents Miwako had stolen from the office, specifically Chizuru's. In them, they found out that Chizuru’s contract had a ridiculous ‘contract cancellation’ stipulation, which effectively meant Chizuru could not break the contract without having to pay an impossible amount of money. On top of that, they also found a brochure for plastic surgery.

Apparently, the 3 roads that Chizuru had talked about [in the earlier half of the episode] were:

1. A road that would hurt her, the plastic surgery,

2. A road that would hurt her family, the contract cancellation fee, and the last was, as Sisala had figured out, and

3. The road that would hurt someone else, hurting Sisala (a competitor) so Chizuru could get onto the stage.

However, Chizuru had not done that, and had helped Sisala instead, who realized how her hands had been trembling at the time. Chacha did a quick background check on the office and found out that it was a new office, and seemingly okay on the surface. However, they apparently gave out promotion payouts depending on the sale of certain talents. So, Yotsugishi was just trying to sell Chizuru for his own gain to get promoted.

Sisala thanked the others, but asked them to let her handle the rest, as they had helped her aplenty already. After Sisala left though, the three looked at one another like they knew what each other was thinking, and Chacha proceeded to say, "Let’s punish him."

By the river bank, Sisala met Chizuru. Sisala shared all the things she had found out, and Chizuru confirmed her info was true.

Chizuru shared that she had been happy at first when she was scouted by Yotsugishi, and her mother back in the countryside had also been so happy. But, there had only been pain after pain afterwards. When she heard about what had happened to Sisala and co. when they became idols, Chizuru was hurt at just what a stark difference there was between their experiences.

Sisala said that, just like how Chizuru had saved her, she wanted to save Chizuru as well. She said that Chizuru might be able to appeal for the contract cancellation fee if she could prove that coercion was involved in the contract. As she was saying that, however, Yotsugishi suddenly appeared.

He said that there were only 3 paths for Chizuru (plastic surgery, paying the fee, or hurting someone else) because the industry was harsh, and getting onto the ladder meant stepping on someone else. He went on to say that the weak would get crushed by the strong and blunt. Sisala said no, there was still a way if the original contract was still at hand, even as she acknowledged they did not have proof that coercion happened. But, Yotsugishi took the contract documents out and ripped them. He proceeded to say that there was no hope for Chizuru, and people biting each other in the back was the way things work, adding that there was a traitor even in Sisala's side.

At that moment, Mimi appeared. She went ichaicha [lovey-dovey] with Yotsugishi. Sisala was like ???. Yotsugishi proceeded to say, Mimi had gone to him and told him what had happened and that is why he was there; even if what happened was the truth, no one would believe the word of a no-name model, and Chizuru would be stuck in the hellhole forever.

“Sowwwwyyy, but I can’t help it, Yotsugishi is so cool~~~” Mimi said, “that he doesn’t even know how I have this all live-streamed. Even if no one will believe a no-name model's words, people would believe the word of the perpetrator themselves, now wouldn’t they?”

Yotsugishi, horrified, asked when the live-stream had started, and Mimi told him, “Since the very beginning.”

Miwako and Chacha came and Chacha said, “He was so easily tricked it wasn’t funny. No wonder though, he can't even manage his talent well.”

As Yotsugishi was going AAAAAA Sisala said, "Chizuru, this is your chance. In the past, I thought I was living alone in the dark, and I thought, ‘that'd be fine’. But I was wrong. My head was too deep in my own cap, hiding under shadows I created myself. So straighten up your cap and look forward, there will definitely be light.”

After hearing those words, Chizuru went, "Yotsugishi-san, I... I resign from the contract!" and slapped it towards Yotsugishi clearly. The others went wow~ straight up and Mimi went, “Before our identity is leaked, let’s cut the stream off heee. Byee~~~”

Only after that, Sisala thanked the three of them formally. Miwako and Mimi were like, isn't it time for you to drop the honorifics already?

Sisala said, “I guess you are right, Mimi, Miwako, Chacha.”

Chacha said that she wouldn’t drop honorifics when she called them, and that some things are felt without needing to be said.

Mimi said that she already thought Chacha would say that.

A few days after, Mayuko called Sisala, saying “That was you guys on the stream, right?”

“How do you…” Sisala replied.

“Ah, as I thought.” Mayuko thanked Sisala about Chizuru. She had thought the girl had been acting strange, and seemingly targeting Sisala, and Mayuko was glad that Sisala had gone to help Chizuru. Mayuko said that Chizuru had gone back home to the countryside, hence choosing ‘the 4th path’, although Mayuko didn't understand what that ‘4th path’ was all about. Sisala, happy to hear that, stopped Mayuko before she could hang up, asking her about something....

At Nanastar, Sisala, Mimi, Miwako, and Chacha met each other like heeey, and seeing that, Shihainin commented on how he had been seeing them together a lot recently, to which Miwako replied, “Maybe we just kinda clicked.”

Mimi looked at Shihainin and went, “I just realized that I am very glad to have been scouted by you.”

Shihainin was confused.

Miwako said the same, and so did Sisala. Chacha even said something along the lines of, ‘that accessory of an eye you have, seems to have a bit of use.’

Mimi was like, “Shihainin look, even Chacha praised you.” (Shihainin: I don’t feel like I’m being praised at all...)

Shihainin then proceeded to announce that he had something to talk to them about, but they cut him off.

“We already know,” they said.

"Eh?" Shihainin was caught off guard

"We even have the ‘Name’ already."

"That means yes!"

~~~End of CASQUETTE’S episode~~~

Back to summaries

[And that concludes the origin story of CASQUETTE’S...

By the way there are at least 5 times where Mimi/Miwako said, "We really clicked with each other!" in the whole episodes like, KI GA AU WA NEEE and I feel like saying, "WAKATTORU WAAAAA. ICHIICHI IWANTOITE NAAAA" but anyway yes.

Sorry for the looooooong time I took before updating. [Er, I took a liiiitle bit longer on my end though aha - Nab]

Btw I typed this on my phone. My thumbs had the most training ever, it'd get six pack if I wrote longer. See ya around! Hope this helps! - Esh]

#azami miwako #ootori chacha #futagawa mimi #kawasumi sisala #eshtarwind #t7s #tokyo 7th シスターズ #tokyo 7th sisters #Episode Translation #translation blog #translation #CASQUETTE'S #ナナシス

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strangebedfellows-blog · 6 years

Note

4 for Zant and 11 for Revali? :00

4. what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? ( ZANT )

I guarantee he’s got some ridiculously large mental backlog of perfectly normal things other Twili courtiers said around him that he read into until they seemed threatening or insulting, I mean, I’ll say that much right out of the gate.

Barring that, I think he was something of an avid people watcher, but in more of a meditative sense than an active effort to pick up on anything. He had a lot of energy to burn off all the time and wasn’t about to socialize beyond what was expected of him or work on his cardio, so there was a lot of very leisurely strolling around ( relaxing enough, made him look like…2% more approachable, mindlessly energy-burning ). He’s probably picked up a lot of very useless, small details about complete strangers that are of absolutely no use to him – the peculiar way that one woman pronounces her ‘u’ sounds, the perpetually scuffed-up kid, that whoever lives in that house over yonder is still garbage at the flute, things of this nature.

And reading. He likes him some reading, and his first round of aimlessly wandering whatever passes for a library in the court, too excited to pick just an armful of things and thus just enjoying the raw admiration, is one of the few wholly pleasant images that randomly jumps to the mental forefront.

The food at Hyrule Castle, additionally. He’s opinionated.

11. for what would your character give their life? ( REVALI )

Broadly speaking? Anyone ( or thing, if it’s of sufficient importance ) at risk of imminent death he feels he might be able to prevent. He’s not an outwardly fluffy, loving guy, but he’s good through and through, and it’s an instinct that he would he honed naturally even if he hadn’t been raised up toward Rito warrior culture, which I’m sure places a high value on general Good Samaritan-ing in addition to protecting the village / Rito people alone. It’s something of an inevitability, he thinks - his usual cockiness would probably have him quipping something about living to old age anyway because What Are The Odds Anything Would Prove Strong Enough To Defeat Him were you to ask him point blank, but at his core, he figures it’d end in some conflict, though preferably a large and important one. In this one respect, he isn’t too broken up about his death.

But that’s just common sense and instinct. If this question means it in a more slow, deliberate sense? Still most people, not that he’d ever admit it, and with a hell of a lot of complaining.If he had close friends or family, they’d top the list in a heartbeat. He doesn’t have those ties, but when / if he gained them he would take them incredibly seriously, and he’s quite the ride or die type. In a weird sort of way he would feel it expected of him, and in that instance would be a great deal more…stoic than might be expected; he wouldn’t expect nearly as much praise or explicit admiration in general from people with whom he’s close as he would acquaintances, which would carry through to this hypothetical. He wouldn’t need to think about it, he wouldn’t brag, wouldn’t gloat, wouldn’t expect or likely even accept thanks - it’s just what he can do, and thus what must be done.

#triiforced #NOR THE FAINTEST BLOOM OF DESIRE ( zant : headcanon )#DON'T COME CRYING TO ME ( revali : headcanon )#t h a n k y o u #my SONS

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psianabel-writes · 7 years

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Moira O’Deorain / Angela “Mercy” Ziegler - Unexpected

Secret Santa exchange from the Moicy discord! :D I got @azrimtaim with the prompt “Hot Chocolate cuddles”.

[AO3]

In a deep Winter holiday's night Angela just wants to get her work done. Yet of course she gets interrupted by someone, but maybe this time it works out better than expected.

A heavy breeze hushed over the gray pavement, leaving cold on its way. Tiny sprinkles of snow followed suit and slowly covered the bleak outlook of the headquarters, silencing the busy noises that were a usual sight around these parts. But for now it was quiet, a nice change to what was going on around here all year. No one set foot outside and did their share of work, no one shouted commandos or ordered others around, no. On these days of the late year, everyone was free to do what they like, away from their usual work. And the fact that it started snowing just now made it even better. A white Christmas was surely the best thing. Many people used this free time to leave the Overwatch facility and get together with their family, spent time with their friends – this was what Christmas was all about. Holidays … Right.

Not all of them left the facility and definitely not all of them had the desire to connect with other people. For some these were the days they could finally be unbothered by their colleagues and rest for once, getting the space that was so well needed after months. And Angela Ziegler was so close to experience just that. She stayed in the facility and barricaded herself in her lab, finally having the time to clear the backlog of work that piled up over the past weeks. It had been busy, if not one of the busiest days she experienced here under Overwatch, so it was nice to have some time again. Even though the pile looked like never-ending work, she was sure to get it done by the end of the holidays. If no one bothered her, this was definitely an achievable goal. If it only wasn't so much damn paperwork … Now she knew why the work was left behind, this undeniably was one of her least favorite things to do. Reports left and right, documentations here and there. Angela sighed at the sight of her desk. She had to get through with it in one way or another … With one last look at the clock she started her work.

“Of course you're here.” The deep voice rattled in Angela's mind, her hazy state suddenly interrupted by the noise. Angela opened her eyes and blinked, lifting her head up from the table and rubbed heavy-lidded eyes with a deep sigh. Shit, I fell asleep?

She was sure she had markings on her face from lying on the scattered papers on her desk, it wouldn't be the first time that happened. “Dr. O'Deorain …” Angela groaned, stretching her arms over her head and let them fall down again. She didn't bother to look behind where the voice came from, instead she just sighed and closed her eyes again. “What are you doing here?” “The same question applies to you.” Moira's voice was sincere, like silk, and Angela wished she wouldn't be so bothered by that. Footsteps came closer and Angela wanted to roll her eyes. Of course she was here, of course she wouldn't leave her alone. “Still working on that?” Moira came to a halt beside her and, again, Angela didn't bother to look at her side. She knew what kind of expression Moira had anyways, so instead she popped both elbows up the table and put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. So much for getting work done … “Yes … Morrison wants a report on the latest update of the nanites.” Angela said with a tired voice. Her eyes laid on the paper in front of her, her notes more scribbles and disconnected words than anything else. “I see.” was the only thing Moira said before she took a sip from the mug she brought with her. Angela was starting to get furious. She … just stood there, right beside her, drinking whatever beverage she had in the middle of the night. This night was planned for getting work done. First she fell asleep on her desk, now her … her colleague – or whatever they were – intruded her alone-time for whatever reason. “Moira, you didn't answer my question.” “You didn't either.” Moira cleared a spot on the table from a paper mess and decided to sit on it, Angela opened her eyes wide and looked at her. She didn't know what to say and other than this was utterly ridiculous, she didn't know what to think of this either. “Moira?” “Do you know what time it is?” Moira asked her and Angela turned confused to the clock at her side. Oh. “4:25am.” “And how much work did you get done?” Angela faced her papers again, looking down at her scribbles and notes she took. Not much. She sank back in her chair. “Look, Angela.” Moira set her steamy mug on the desk, avoiding to set it on any paper. “I know you want to work, I know you have been busy, but you need some time for rest, too.” A chuckle followed. “And I know I'm the one to talk, being here, too, to do the same thing as you, but.” Moira sat up again, placing a hand on Angela's back. “There is nothing wrong with taking some time off.” Angela was silent. She always was a hard worker, a workaholic even, to the point her work place was her own home – and that such words came from the person who she knew was just like her hit a bit too close to home. Maybe, just maybe Moira was right. For once. The sweet scent of Moira's mug got caught in her nose, tickling her senses. There was a strong hint of chocolate in there, definitely not what Angela was expecting what Moira would drink. But it smelled nice. “Do you want a hot chocolate, too?” Moira asked her as she saw Angela curiously stare at her mug. “I …” Angela's thoughts were rattling in her mind. She was torn in her own believes, struggling to decide between work and rest. Moira had a point, but her work wouldn't complete itself either. “... Yes, I like one.” Moira smiled, almost triumphantly. “I get one for you.” And just like that Moira left the room. Angela let her head fall back, dragging her hands over her face with a deep sigh. Tiredness still lingered inside her and if she had to admit, then Moira's offer was exactly what she needed right now. Maybe getting a clear mind for once could help her facing the work load. Just … a time where she came down and breathe, where she didn't have to worry about a thing. Maybe … Maybe this was the best choice. It didn't take long for Moira to come back to her, a plain white mug in her hand. It was steamy, too, the same scent filling her nose that came from Moira's mug. She stood up from her place, took Moira's mug with her and walked over to Moira who waited at the other side of the room, setting the mug down on the table that was in front of the couch that stood there. “Thank you.” Moira said as Angela handed her her mug, sitting down on the couch to make herself comfortable. Angela took the space beside her, crossing her legs as she grabbed the mug and thanked her, too. Instantly warmth flooded through her hands and through her body, combined with the sweet smell a content feeling spread. She sighed and closed her eyes as she held the mug in front of her, taking as much of this feeling in as possible. Moira meanwhile sipped on her own mug, watching Angela with a smile. For a while they both said nothing and only appreciated this quiet time together, their hot beverage almost empty now. The warmth coming from the hot chocolate only intensified Angela's tiredness and she had a hard time not to fall asleep any minute now. It was still early in the morning after all and that brief sleep she got earlier was hardly refreshing. But now that she settled herself on this couch, with this warmth in her hand, getting actual rest wasn't such a bad idea … “Thank you, Moira. … I appreciate it that you dragged me away from my desk.” She let out a halfhearted laugh and set her empty mug on the table, leaning back into the soft cushions. “You looked like you needed it.” Angela felt her consciousness slipping away from her, her tiredness too strong to hold it back anymore. She closed her eyes and fell to her side, right onto Moira's shoulder. Moira stiffened for a second at the sudden touch, but seeing how Angela was just so gone beside her, she relaxed and extended an arm to lay it around her. She shifted a bit to make it a bit more comfortable for Angela, rubbing over her arm. She snorted. “Goodnight, Angela.” This went better than she intended. She definitely didn't complain about that.

#moicy #moira o'deorain #angela ziegler #overwatch #femslash #overwatch femlsash #secret santa #fjghdhgdg this took me so long lmao #buuut ya #let her rest!!! she's tired

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