#capture it well enough. problem is a lot of the advice i'm seeing is saying to describe the Music | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scripttorture · 3 years

Note

One of the central characters in a fantasy story I'm writing has torture as part of her backstory. She was captured by an evil race, and one individual in particular put her through a "training" regime designed to turn her into a useful/trustworthy slave. Specifically the goals of the training were:

- destroy her sense of self / agency

- overwrite her ingrained response of healing herself when injured (she has magical healing powers)

- an affectionate or worshipful disposition towards her captors

- immediate obedience to any command

I feel like both physical and psychological torture / mental conditioning are probably appropriate, though I'm leaning away from including sexual abuse. I honestly don't know much about torture at all and the only things that come to mind as producing a result similar to what I'm looking for are the Game of Thrones torture sequence and the use of obdience collars in the Codex Alera book series. The latter is very interesting to me because it is a magical device that inflicts pain in reaction to disobedience but also inflicts pleasure to reward obedience.

I guess I'm just wondering if you have any advice for what kinds of methods would be good to include in a process designed to produce obedience, rather than torture for its own sake or to extract information, as well as if there are any common pitfalls I should try to avoid in writing about such a thing.

The training itself won't be in the book, but I need to be familiar with it for backstory purposes because later in the story this character encounters her torturer again, and is subjected to some further abuse before she finally overcomes her fear and kills him.

Alright well I’m going to be straight up with you: the scenario you’ve presented is a very common torture apologist trope. It’s incredibly unrealistic. And it’s unrealistic in ways that support torture by claiming it can be ‘useful’.

Which probably means that you’re new to the blog and haven’t heard me give this talk before. That’s OK, we all learn sometime and it’s not my intention to shame you for the fact you’re not as obsessed with this stuff as I am or couldn’t afford to shell out for the books.

Torture does not produce obedience. The best evidence we have right now suggests it encourages active resistance.

If you got a lot of your inspiration from Game of Thrones then frankly I’m not surprised you came up with apologia. The torture in that series is incredibly badly handled. And a big part of the point of running this blog is that most people are getting their information on torture from shows like that. Which happens because the research is inaccessible and hasn’t been popularised the way fictional tropes (sometimes fictional tropes literally started by torturers) have been popularised.

The important thing is what you choose to do now.

I’m going to break down the problems here and make some suggestions for what you could do instead.

Firstly: there is no torture or abuse that will guarantee obedience. Pain does not make people meek or compliant or willing to follow commands.

Torture survivors are not broken.

They are not ‘controlled’ by their torturers and the suggestion that they are is used in the real world to bar real survivors from treatment. It is also used to bar them from entering safe countries and to argue that they shouldn’t be allowed visas or passports.

The best statistics we have for any sort of compliance under torture come from analysis of historical French data where torture was used to try and force confessions (something we know torture can sometimes do).

The ‘success’ rate averaged at 10%. Under torture 90% of people will not comply long enough to sign their name.

Secondly: torture does not and can not ‘make’ a victim feel ‘worshipful’ towards their torturer. The suggestion is kind of like asking if someone can tap dance immediately after removing the bones from their legs.

Torturers have no control over a victim’s emotions. They have no control over their symptoms. They have no control over their beliefs.

And there is no such thing as a torture that can change someone’s mind in a way torturers can control.

Once again, this fictional trope is used by politicians and the media to justify marginalising real torture survivors.

I have read hundreds, possibly thousands, of accounts from torture survivors. I’ve read historic and modern accounts. I’ve read accounts from all sort of people from all over the globe. I have never seen a survivor say anything positive about their torturers. I have never seen anything close to toleration.

A lot of survivors are blisteringly angry at their torturers. A lot of them feel overwhelming levels of spite and some report literally putting themselves at risk of death in order to spite their torturers. And yes, a lot of them are afraid too. None of these emotions are mutually exclusive.

Affection is impossible. We are not wired that way.

Thirdly: I understand that ‘evil races’ are a long standing fantasy trope but it would be remiss of me if I didn’t mention the racism inherent in that idea. That some people are ‘born bad’.

I’d strongly suggest you look up the Black, Indian and First Nations people that I know are on this site critiquing these kinds of fantasy tropes. Because they will be able to explain it better then I can.

Fourthly: the term ‘psychological torture’ is a pretty common dog whistle for torture apologia.

Most of the time tortures that people dub ‘psychological’ are things with real, physical effects that lead to lasting injury and death. They just don’t tend to leave obvious external scars. I use Rejali’s term ‘clean torture’ for these techniques. Researchers distinguish them from scarring tortures because they are harder to detect and prove in court.

The majority of survivors today will have experienced clean torture. They will have no obvious physical scars. But they will still be disabled. They’re ‘just’ less likely to see any form of justice for it.

Fifthly: torture is a terrible training method because it decreases a person’s ability to learn.

Torture causes memory problems. It also often causes lasting physical injuries that make performing basic tasks more difficult. And it causes a lot of serious psychological problems which make performing basic tasks more difficult.

A trained person who was never tortured will always out perform someone whose training involved torture.

I probably sound quite angry here.

I write fantasy and I also write about torture a lot. But I can’t imagine that it’s just flavour for a fantasy world or some artefact of the past. Torture is a real, present threat in the country that I grew up in. If I was to return now I could, literally, be tortured and executed.

If you want to include torture in your world, in your story then you are committing to telling someone else’s story. You are representing an incredibly marginalised group of people and you are presenting that representation to a third group, one that has never had contact with real torture survivors.

Are you comfortable with the idea of telling your peers that survivors are still controlled by ‘the enemy’? That they’re passive? That they don’t have the capacity to make their own decisions?

Are you comfortable knowing that the popularity of this message keeps millions of genocide survivors in refugee camps, blocked from citizenship, aid and safety?

I understand feeling attached to a story and a character. And I understand that this information is hard to find. Hell I’m probably going to end up with the only English copy of one of the pivotal textbooks because I’m shelling out to get it translated.

You say you want to write a torture survivor. With respect I don’t think you know what a torture survivor looks like.

I think the most helpful, and kindest, thing I can do here is describe what torture does to people. Because I can’t tell you whether that’s something you want to write. I could try and rebuild this scenario for you (and if you decide you’re interested in that after reading all of this and all the links then I suggest looking through the blog tags for ICURE, torture as training, Black Widow and Overwatch.) But I think you need to decide whether you actually want to write a torture survivor first.

Here’s a post on the most common torture apologia tropes.

Here’s the post on the types of memory problems torture commonly causes. I strongly recommend picking at least one.

Remember that this would never go away. Improvement and recovery in torture survivors means learning to live with symptoms. The symptoms themselves are permanent.

It’s a hundred different alarms set up on their phone to try and make up for the forgetfulness that makes them miss appointments. It’s the little bottle of perfume in their pocket to bring themselves back to reality when they get intrusive memories at work.

Here’s a post on the other common symptoms.

You want something in the range of 3-5 of those, though more are likely if your character is held for years. Each of them should be severe. Every single symptom should have a large, negative, impact on the character’s daily life.

Do you know anyone with chronic pain? It warps their world. Work can become impossible. Basic household tasks like getting dressed, cooking, cleaning the dishes are done through gritted teeth or not at all. Hobbies and ‘fun’ activities dwindle as they struggle to find a way to do them that doesn’t hurt. Interaction with other people, even loved ones, can easily become barbed.

Because the pain makes everything more difficult. It means everything takes more energy, more effort. Which means that things fall by the wayside, whether that’s by a pile of mouldering dishes in the sink or snapping at a child. It means tears and the social judgement that follows them. It means the world narrowing as it gets harder to go out.

Do you see what I mean? Every part of life.

That’s an example for one symptom. You need to work out at least four. Then figure out how they interact. Then figure out what the character can do to make her life better.

With chronic pain that can mean painkillers but it’s always more then that. It’s re-learning how to do things; how to put on trousers without aggravating the bad knee, how to sew with one hand. It means learning to cut down on what they do and it means learning a new sort of flexibility; accepting that there are days when the pain is too much.

It can mean having the same conversation about disability over and over again. With family, with friends, with colleagues. ‘I can’t do that.’ ‘I can do that sometimes but not always.’ ‘That will hurt me.’ ‘I can’t use that chair.’ ‘I can’t get my arms that high above my shoulders.’ ‘I need help with this.’

And that sometimes means learning a kind of patience that is really barely held back rage. Or perhaps I’m projecting a little with this last one.

If you’ve never met a torture survivor, if you’ve never looked at a survivor’s work, then all this is difficult. You’re trying to imagine something from first principals with nothing to fall back on.

So let’s bring some survivors into the discussion here. Some reality.

Who’s listened to Fela? How about Bobi Wine?

Fela Kuti was the father of modern Afro beats music. He was tortured multiple times and during one attack, which destroyed his home, his mother was murdered by the military. When he got out of jail Fela marched her funeral procession past the biggest barracks in Nigeria’s biggest city. He wrote two songs about this attack and he doubled down on his opposition to the military government.

Fela’s music started causing riots.

You can read what I have to say about him here. You can listen to his music on youtube.

Here’s an interview with Bobi Wine, which was conducted shortly after he was tortured in Uganda. He talked about how he was determined to go back and continue fighting. Which he did. He even ran against the president.

I’ve also got a short piece on Searle who was a cartoonist captured by the Japanese during World War 2. His drawings of what happened in To the Kwai and Back are worth seeing. Especially if you want to write atrocities on this scale. They will show you the scale and how to focus on the small, human elements despite that overwhelming scale.

Alleg’s The Question is pretty much a must, it’s one of the most thorough accounts from the Franco-Algerian war.

Monroe’s A Darkling Plain is also a must, it’s a series of interviews with survivors of various different conflicts and atrocities. Some are torture survivors. Some are not. It is essential reading because it shows the variety in survivors as well as giving a sense of their lives beyond the symptoms.

Finally Amnesty International has literally hundreds of interviews and studies available for free online.

The most important decision for any story with regards to torture is whether it should be there at all.

So much of this topic is intimidating and so much of it is difficult to write. Not just in the ‘oh this is horribly effecting’ sense but in the ‘I have twelve things to juggle in this simple scene’ sense.

Ask yourself what torture adds to this character and this story. What does this backstory actually give this character?

Because if the point is to have her vulnerable and then ultimately triumphing violently over her attackers I don’t think you want a torture scenario. You could get the same thing from a bad guy trying to drug her and having the kidnapping fail when she fights him off, clumsy but effective nonetheless.

And she could still come out of something like that traumatised.

Right now I really don’t see this adding anything but torture apologia to your story.

Handling torture well in a story means accepting that it can’t be the same story without it. It means watching the characters and narrative warp under the weight of it. It means lasting effects, for all the characters and for the world itself.

I believe you are capable of writing that if you want to, pet. But this ain’t it.

Edit: I’m having trouble seeing the beginning of the answer here. Can anyone let me know if there are formatting issues again please? The first word in the htmal is ‘Alright’ but what I’m seeing on tumblr starts 8 paragraphs in.

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

135 notes · View notes

linskywords · 3 years

Note

Loving your wolfverse fics. I'm curious, because you seem to deal exceptionally well with writing fic while posting, how organized do you have to be? Do you plan it all out before hand, write it all as you go, or just pin down the main plotlines or something? Also - I love love love your fic titles (AND YOUR SUMMARIES OH MY G-) - any advice/insight into how you pick them? ❤

Aw, this is such a nice question! I would not say I'm an expert at any of those things, but happy to share what I do.

Posting: So, I do tend to have a complete or nearly complete draft before I start posting. I do this because 1) otherwise I'd feel like I was out of control of the narrative, like I might realize a few chapters in that I need to restructure the beginning and it would be too late because it would already be posted; and 2) otherwise it would take me waaaay longer between chapters and I'd feel guilty for posting so slowly. So mostly when I'm posting, my weekly writing time goes almost entirely towards rewriting/fine-tuning that week's chapter(s). Sometimes that means one editing pass, but usually it's two: one for significant rewrites and one for small tweaks of the rewritten stuff. This often takes a LOT of time. I've been able to get two chapters out a week for the past few weeks because I've had some pretty good chunks of writing time, which of course varies with my level of general life busyness. I don't know that I'm super organized about it, but getting a chapter up is a very fun thing to do (you guys often have really nice things to say about it!!), so that's nicely incentivizing.

Titles: Haha they will pry song lyric titles out of my cold dead hands. 😂 I actually like to write down promising lyric snippets when I'm listening to a new song I like, especially one that has really evocative phrases in it. It can be frustrating sometimes if there's a song with beautiful lines that don't work out of the context of the music, or that are too clunky or long to be good titles (TSwift is great for this; that's part of why she gets used so often). Then when I need to title a fic, I go to my list of lyric snippets and see what fits, and if nothing does, I listen to some love songs on whatever playlists I've been hitting up recently and see if I can extract something. It's always nice when a story has an obvious title from the beginning (I'd had Paint Our Bodies and Chase the Sky picked out for the Bennguin wolf sequel for ages), but that only happens for me like a quarter of the time.

Summaries: This is actually pretty straightforward. I try to find a line that captures what I think of as the primary conflict/hook of the story: something the main character believes that's going to be refuted; something that presents the primary problem for the main character; something that presents a mystery or surprise that gets the story going. Often it's the primary story "seed" that sparked my interest when writing the story (Patrick has three names on his wrist instead of one; Dylan's supposed to feel okay about being a wolf in the NHL (but he doesn't); Tyler likes watching other guys hook up but doesn't think it's gay). Often it's also the first line, because I like to present the story hook right up front. :) I realized a while back that I'd had like six stories in a row with "always" or "never" in the summary, and those were the ones where the thesis statement of the story, if you will, was something the main character believed but was wrestling with -- Taylor's always known better than to tell his teammates he's gay (but that's probably not gonna last...); Mitch has never thought of himself as homophobic (but now he's wondering); Nolan’s body has never been his friend (but maybe he can improve on that?). It's fun to make bold claims that invite questions in a reader's mind: okay, but is that really true? How will that change? Because I tend to structure stories around a single idea like that -- not intentionally, exactly; it's just the way story ideas tend to grab me -- it's easy-ish for the most part to distill that idea into a sentence or two. And if there's no single idea like that, or if it doesn't make sense to reveal it in the summary, I try to pick something from early on that serves as a bridge idea, so to speak -- like Jonny not realizing Tiki Kane had a son, which contains enough seeds of the main story to be relevant and which also, hopefully, makes people curious enough to want to know more.

Gonna stop myself before I ramble any longer than that. 😄 Thanks for asking such a fun question to answer!

#writing #fic #titles #summaries

9 notes · View notes

recentanimenews · 3 years

Text

INTERVIEW: That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime and So I'm a Spider, So What? Lead Voice Actors

In coordination with the current season of So I’m a Spider, So What?, Crunchyroll News was given the opportunity to officially translate interviews with the staff and cast of the series. You can read the original Japanese interview between Aoi Yuki and Miho Okasaki right here.

The interview was conducted by Daisuke Iwakura.

So I'm a Spider, So What? x That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime Crossover Interview! "Me" (a.k.a. Kumoko) Aoi Yuki and "Rimuru Tempest" Miho Okasaki.

It's a dream crossover between two anime airing in January: So I'm a Spider, So What? and That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime! The interview was held on December 19th, 2020 as part of the Isekai Miracle Crossover broadcast featuring Aoi Yuki, who plays "Me" (a.k.a. Kumoko), and Miho Okasaki, who plays Rimuru Tempest.

These two characters were reincarnated as monsters, and while they have their similarities, they have their differences, too. We spoke to Yuki-san and Okasaki-san about what they have in common, where they're distinct, and what makes each of the shows so interesting.

A shared concern ... being reincarnated means having a lot of dialogue?!

—I've heard this is the first time either of you have encountered each other's projects. For starters, could you give a brief description of the show? Yuki-san, if you could go first.

Yuki: Kumoko is a girl who was unfortunate enough to find herself reincarnated as a spider after her classroom was blown up. And the type of spider she was reincarnated as happens to be the weakest monster in that world. She's initially pretty pessimistic about what's happened, but her naturally positive and free-wheeling personality allow her to tackle the situation with gusto. She's got a lot of strengths like being quick-witted and staying calm under stress, but I think her biggest appeal is that she's very self-centered, in a good way. The way she's able to focus on what she needs to do, and what she needs to pursue to become happy makes a good match for having been turned into a monster, and really ties into her determination to survive.

Okasaki: Before the interview, they showed me the first episode of So I'm a Spider, So What? and while I did think Kumoko's optimism was charming, I was amazed by how many lines Yuki-san had!

Yuki: It's pretty brutal, right?! It gives the impression that being reincarnated means having a lot of dialogue. (Laughs)

Okasaki: I know what you mean! Rimuru is the same way, he has a lot of monologues.

Yuki: Chalk it up to "things that happened when you're reincarnated." I've reincarnated a few times before ... by which I mean my characters have, of course. (Laughs) But the amount of lines Kumoko has is incomparable to all the rest.

Okasaki: The way she talks to herself so amusingly is really entertaining, and it really speaks to Yuki-san's strengths as an actress. I was amazed.

Yuki: Thank you so much!

—Now, Okasaki-san, if you could tell us about Rimuru.

Okasaki: After reincarnating as a slime, Rimuru ran into a character named Shizu-san, and as a result gained an alternate human form. And while I think being able to change shapes is kind of cheating (Laughs), both are really cute, and I really enjoy making each form sound distinct during the recording. In terms of personality, he's got a really big heart. He encounters characters that oppose him, but he considers their circumstances and ends up making them into allies. His humanity really attracts others to him. It's that kind of personality where you can understand how he ended up as a leader.

Yuki: I was shown Episode 25 of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime. Even in that one episode, you could tell how beloved he is in a way that makes you kind of jealous. Kumoko would love to join Tempest (the Jura Tempest Federation)!

Okasaki: We'd be glad to have you! Our country is very accepting of monsters.

Yuki: Meanwhile, I'm stuck in a cave having to kill other monsters! (Laughs) The problem is none of them will listen to reason, so I just have to eat them.

Okasaki: (Laughs)

Yuki: I also like how easy-going Rimuru is. Even when everyone is desperate and fighting, he never loses his cool, which really impresses on you how big of a deal he is. It's the kind of composure that comes from being really strong.

Okasaki: That's true, being able to take a step back and look at things analytically is one of Rimuru's strengths.

—I'd like to discuss the similarities and differences between the two characters. First, since Kumoko and Rimuru have both reincarnated, let's talk about the differences between who they originally were.

Okasaki: Rimuru was originally a 37-year-old office worker.

Yuki: Kumoko was a high schooler, so that's about a 20 year age difference.

Okasaki: Since he's an older guy, Rimuru gets really, really excited whenever cute girls show up.

Yuki: I remember him riding on top of someone's boobs. (Laughs)

Okasaki: That did happen. He often uses his slime form as a means to get to sit in girls' laps. When we were recording that scene, the audio director had to explain the male point of view in that situation. His direction was along the lines of, "You need to sound happier about it." (Laughs)

—Do you try to be conscious about him being a 37-year-old man when portraying Rimuru, Okasaki-san?

Okasaki: I do. I really think his perspective on things tends to be on the mature side. He doesn't feel desperate to survive like Kumoko, and when confronted with an enemy, his reaction is to think, "Well, I'll give it a shot," instead of, "I'm gonna win!" He reincarnated, ended up with a variety of skills, and before long he became a ruler, but he lived 37 years of his life and developed an outlook that keeps him from feeling desperate, and I try to capture that maturity when I perform as him.

Yuki: When you're 37 years old, you're an adult who's dealt with things like taking care of bills and paying into your pension, and you'll have experienced both the sweet and bitter parts of life, letting you see how it all balances out. You're able to approach life in a way where the overarching thought is, "Well, that's just how it is." Compared to that, Kumoko hasn't even started paying taxes yet, and hasn't really developed an outlook to approach life with. As a result, she tackles things with a gusto that makes you wonder if she's going to burn out, which really shows how youthful she is. But I also think the world she's reincarnated into is one where that kind of ferocity is necessary for survival.

—There's also the fact that currently, Rimuru is surrounded by friends, while Kumoko is all by herself.

Yuki: There's a part in Episode 25 where Rimuru's friends are having him dress up in different outfits, almost like a doll, and I thought that was wonderful. Kumoko has been on her own this entire time, in a cave, and is only able to fantasize about getting to wear clothing.

Okasaki: For as much of a social butterfly as he is, Rimuru actually never had a girlfriend in his past life.

Yuki: Maybe he never seemed like boyfriend material? The kind of person who finds the object of their affection asking for romantic advice.

Okasaki: Oh! I kind of feel bad for him, now ... maybe he lacked that extra spice that's necessary.

Yuki: He's nice, and seems smart, and gives really good relationship advice.

Okasaki: And ended up as a bachelor for 37 years as a result ... But when I think about it that way, the world he was reincarnated to might be suited to Rimuru. It's a world where you get judged for the amount of power you have, so by being both powerful and lovable, he and the world have a mutual appreciation for each other. Rimuru's past life didn't end up being very personally productive, so his reincarnation doesn't seem so bad now that he gets to be surrounded by friends and enjoy life.

—Since Kumoko is by herself, it sounds like you end up doing a lot of recording by yourself, too.

Yuki: It's so lonely! The second set of key visuals show four different versions of Kumoko, but they're all played by me.

Okasaki: I didn't know that!

Yuki: I'm still alone, but at least there's a little bit more back-and-forth now. (Laughs)

Okasaki: That seems like it'd be a lot of lines ...

Yuki: It feels like things have gotten even more hectic with the four of her.

—Another interesting point of comparison is how the characters both have encounters with dragons.

Yuki: The Earth Dragon I run into is bad news. Unlike Veldora, it's not interested in talking at all.

Okasaki: I guess communication is off the table. It's also pretty scary looking! (Looking at the art in the teaser visuals.)

Yuki: And it's really strong! And it's definitely going to threaten Kumoko again. The thought of becoming friends didn't occur to me.

Okasaki: I'm not so sure that'd work, even for Rimuru.

Yuki: Rimuru-san's strong too, though, so he'd be able to deal with it.

—In comparison, Veldora is almost like Rimuru's partner.

Okasaki: That's right. He might look so scary that Rimuru fainted when he first saw him, but he's actually pretty charming when you talk to him. And a tsundere!

Yuki: That's great!

Okasaki: When Rimuru approaches him about being friends, Veldora says, "Well, I guess I can consider it!" But in the end, they become friends anyway.

Yuki: That's so nice. This might be a little weird, but I always find the fantasy races in stories like this to be charming. That goes for the humanoid ones of course, but even the monstrous ones can really pull on my heartstrings. When I was talking to a friend who feels the same way, they mentioned that Veldora-san is super cute.

Okasaki: That's interesting! Veldora is definitely a popular character.

Yuki: Everyone who finds dragons cute mentioned him, so I've looked at some character art before. Rimuru was in slime form too, so it was like, "This is some good fantasy race content."

Their circumstances may be different, but these reincarnations would definitely get along!

—We've discussed the things they have in common, and their differences, and now I'd like to ask: Do you think these two characters would get along?

Yuki: I don't think they'd have any trouble in that regard since they'd be able to communicate and understand each other.

Okasaki: The fact that they've both reincarnated is something they'd be able to bond over, and I think Rimuru would be thrilled to encounter another former human who reincarnated as a monster.

Yuki: Kumoko is friendly as long as she's not hungry ... then again, I think she'd realize she's outmatched. And since she doesn't pick fights she can't win, I'm sure they'd get along fine. I apologize if she accidentally eats anyone from Tempest, though!

Okasaki: That would not be okay! (Laughs) Rimuru really cares about his friends, so please try and show some restraint. There's plenty of actual food to eat, instead!

Yuki: As long as there's food.

Okasaki: That's a relief ... but after talking it over, it'd be interesting to see Rimuru and Kumoko actually interact.

Yuki: It'd make a great short anime!

Okasaki: Good idea! They've crossed over before, so I'd love it if they adapted that story! ["Monster x Reincarnation Fair" was an original short story by So I'm a Spider, So What? author Okina Baba-sensei.]

—Since you're both here, do you have any questions for each other?

Okasaki: Hearing Yuki-san's performance, she's doing a great job of establishing Kumoko-san's character, but at the same time, you can imagine a normal human high school student with the same performance. How did you manage that?

Yuki: To be honest, I already knew going to the audition that I'd be talking a lot with this role, and I realized if I went too hard, the performance would fall apart. (Laughs) For example, talking in a really high voice for an extended period of time wouldn't be possible, right? The end result is what comes from eliminating stuff like that. And since she's a character who can go from really low energy to being super excited pretty quickly, I tried to use a neutral voice that would let me do both.

Okasaki: That's really interesting! You knew you would be talking a lot beforehand, right?

Yuki: You should always be careful with any project that has "reincarnation" in the premise, because you'll end up talking a lot.

Okasaki: Hahaha, you're right! I'll have to remember that. (Laughs)

—Do you have any questions, Yuki-san?

Yuki: Rimuru-san has no gender as a slime. Was there anything special that you did considering that?

Okasaki: I thought he would sound gender-neutral, so I tried to craft a voice that would give that impression. That being said, I'm a woman with a feminine voice, so what worked best was leaning into a boyish direction. I would record the voice I came up with and listen to it, searching for a voice that suits the genderless Rimuru. My own voice isn't particularly exuberant either (laughs), and since I've a relatively huskier tone, I was eventually able to nail it pretty easily. That helps make it come out naturally.

—Thank you both so much. Before we go, what do you think is the main appeal of your projects?

Okasaki: In Season 1, Rimuru was reincarnated as a slime, got a humanoid form, made friends, created a nice country, and it ended on a peaceful note. But in Season 2, he's going to be encountering a lot of opposition and forced to make some major decisions. Things have been smooth sailing so far, but now he's going to have to think about what he can do for his friends. I've been portraying a new, more heroic side of him, which I think will be a lot of fun to see.

Yuki: Kumoko's story has an element of "survival of the fittest," and there's a kind of exhilaration you get from seeing that unfold. She faces a strong enemy, grows from the experience, and then encounters something even stronger, continuing to evolve. That cycle is really interesting to watch, and her positivity can make you happy just from seeing it unfold, so it might be a good idea to end a long day with watching So I'm a Spider, So What?

By: Guest Author

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

10 notes · View notes

guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'It's all improvisation' : Chapter 28 of "Fighting Spirit of a Once Innocent Girl"is out !

Summary :

Samantha & Helen are landing in another universe to find out about Monty's real location.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

----------------------------------

I never thought that we will be able to get out of Cuba alive but we can thanks only Nikolai for that and it became so important to me to give him my thanks. He saved us from our inevitable deaths and allowed us to continue in our mission instead of been captured and maybe killed if Omega's forces arrived minutes later while no one came to check our status. He brought us to a secret island in the middle of nowhere where he has built a house, identical to the old House I was living during my young with Eddie.....and Monty.

Nikolai told me the truth I never expected : for all these times, behind the mask Perseus was using.....it was Eddie all along. The only friend that was so close to me, the one person that was playing with me in my childhood.....was in fact my enemy I've been tracking down for months. It was Eddie's body but it was Monty who were controlling it. Eddie was trapped inside his own body and I will do anything to get Eddie back in control and then, I will kill Monty myself like I promised years ago.

Monty was the person I was hating the most in this now entire multiverse, along with Adler, Requiem and the Omega Group. I started to think that once we come back to West-Berlin in our universe, we will need to tell them about the truth of the fight we are making against Perseus. For the finals moments, our differences must be step aside as we need to fight together if we want to stop Monty from achieving his ultimate plans to destroy Europe and to put his world and maybe in the future the others universes into the Dark Aether.

We needed to get back to West-Berlin before Lazar take everyone to Monty fake location because of his state of been mind-controlled but unfortunately, we have to face another problem from that : we have no clues or any leads that could have helped us to discover the real base of Monty as everyone who could have give us that info were either dead or missing : Peck was beheaded by Monty & Valentina....I killed her. Those two must have know that info but now, they can't help us as they are fully dead.

However, even if Nikolai also didn't know of Monty's real location, he know exactly what we can do to have our answers and to be honest, me & Helen couldn't believe of what we were going to do to make that happen. Nikolai presented to us the Multiverse that was created when the old one was banished in the Dark Aether and showed to us that all of these universes were sharing a comoon point : Perseus's threat existed but very different of our universe, there were no Dark Aether on these universes for the moment.

Nikolai reassured to us that the location Perseus is hiding is always the same place around the multiverse including us. He decided that to get our responses, we will have to travel into another universe to talk with an woman called 'Bell', a name shared by a lot of differents people and also facing the same situation : working with Adler against Perseus. We had to agreed because it was our only way for us. Once we were ready, Nikolai created for us an portal leading to that particular universe. Me & Helen joined hands and then we crossed the portal.

That little travel didn't last so long as after at least 10 seconds, we arrived into that universe......the portal was located in a hidden place around big trees as we stepped in this universe. Once we were fully in, the portal closed meaning that we had to find our answers until Nikolai created another one to get us back. I started to look around to check our surroundings.

"It's feels weird." I started, having the impression that we shouldn't be here as I was feeling cold, the air in that place was cold because it was night.

"We are really into that universe ?" Helen couldn't believe that, looking at me "Or we're back at West-Berlin ?" She added, recognizing the place and me too

"You are arrived in your destination." We could hear Nikolai's voice in our heads, he said he was going to guide us in our task, helping us with the necessary.

"So, it's too late to back down, right ?" Helen asked, smirking

"Exactly !" I replied with an smile "Nikolai, where are we ?"

"You're not far from the same safehouse you're using in West-Berlin." He said, sounding sure of himself "Join the place and find a good place to hide near its main entrance."

"Understood." Helen nodded before leading the way forwards and I followed her.

We walked for a while until we can finally have the safehouse in sight, the same one like in our universe. Nothing was weird about it as we got closer but then, we could spot.....another Helen leaned against the garage door, awaiting for something. It was the other Helen from that universe and I could see that my Helen were shocked to see herself, same as me. We couldn't let ourselves be spotted by her so we needed to find a better place to hide.

Nikolai guided us and adviced us to get on the rooftop of the safehouse to have a better look on the surroundings but also inside as there were a part of the ceilling where we could be able to look inside and also hear what they can said. For climbing on that rooftop, we decided to use our powers and it was much easy than to use the pipe. Helen was amazed when she started to levitate too, showing to me that she was like me and I think she start to like it too.

Once we were on the rooftop, we decided to stay hidden, keeping a look to the main entrance as the other Helen was still awaiting against the garage door. Helen was intrigued on something,

"She has the same clothes as me." She thought, her hand on her chin "Nikolai, how did you succeed to have my clothes ?" She asked to him in our head

"Powers." He simply said.

"Wait, you said that you were wearing the same clothes when we found each other again." I started, looking at Helen "Does that mean....."

"The date is the February 24th 1981." Nikolai replied, cutting me short

"Is that normal ?" Helen started to ask "We're in another universe and back in time ?"

"Yes." Nikolai muttered "It was the only date where you could have your answer without having any much troubles." He added

"I understand what you mean." I told him with an smile before Helen gestured to me,

"Someone's coming." She said as we heard a car arriving at the safehouse. We lied down in cover as the people get out of the car : we could see Russell Adler and our person in interest, I could say.

"Bell, welcome to West-Berlin." Adler started, taking something in his pocket, a cigarette and lighting it before looking back at Bell "We have a job to do !" Both then arrived near their Helen who knocked two times on the door as a signal to open it "Park."

"Adler." She said, harshly, taking a bag that was just at her feets before looking at Bell "Bell." This time, she was sounding more happy with her than with him.....Guess that it's a common thing in every universe. The trio then enter the safehouse, the door staying open and we decided to join the part where we could observe everyone inside : it was weird to see Lazar normally and different now.

"Okay, everyone, gather up." Adler exclaimed, gesturing to everyone to come near the same dashboard at the same place as in our universe. "You all know why we're here today : we have been asked to track a soviet spy we called 'Perseus'." He started before smoking his cigarette "However, our leads against him are very limited and we only have this as our only lead." He put his hand on a file that was on his desk, the same I have decrypted.

"Our analysts in the MI6 and those in the CIA weren't able to decypher that file meaning....." Their Helen added, joining the briefing

"Meaning that we have to revisit an old ops from 13 years ago." Adler cut her straight, I could see anger on Helen on the ground and next to me.

"Damn, doc', you're talking about Vietnam and 'Fracture Jaw' ?" Sims asked and Adler nodded

"It's our only lead and Bell will help us." He said, looking at her

"I will but....I think I need some moments to think about it and to install myself here." Bell told him, we could see an worried on Adler's face before he gain back an straight face

"Okay, it's fine." Adler sighed "The others, free time until Bell is cleared to talk about it." He ordered, meaning the end of that little briefing as everyone goes in their separate ways : Bell decided to go in the dorm as their Helen was back outside. We decided to move next to the cover we used to have a view on the entrance as we saw Adler joining their Helen who started to smoke.

"What do you want, Adler ?" She asked to him in a hard tone, hearing him arrive

"I wanted to make things clear, Park." He said, concerned "With Bell, we all need to stay an simple team."

"Why ?" She told him, sounding surprised

"You know well that Bell is someone we need to watch closely, remember ?" He was sounding so clear in his voice like everything was normal as me & Helen were wondering what was the deal with Bell. "I'm asking you to not be acting like best friends with her, it's not because you put her in the MI6 that you had to stick together with her as the only women around."

"Is this a problem for you ?" She said, raising an eyebrow "She's an human being, it's not my fault if you can't see things normally. I can thanks Lazar to think the same along me."

"Tell what you want to say." He clenched his fists "But my orders stay clear : with Bell, it's only professional. Lazar got the same thing from me."

"What did he say about it ?" She asked, not looking at him anymore

"That he will think about it." He replied and she smiled at him

"Then you have my answer : I will think about it." She said to him, smirking, he rolled his eyes in desesperation before walking inside the safehouse, leaving her alone "Douchebag !" She whispered, enough to be hear by us. Yeah, she's right about him.

Once their little discussion were done, me & Helen decided to leave that rooftop by the same way we got on it to join the ground level. When we were back on the same level, we walked to get to a hidden location but we saw their Helen was staying outside and unfortunately, we needed to find a way to get in.

"I guess that now, it's all improvisation ?" I whispered to Helen, she nodded.

"We need to think about getting me....Well, her away from the place." She said, looking at herself

"I know what you're thinking : you want to take her place but I need to get in too." I exclaimed, finding out about the plan we were making along our mission. "And we got something to deal with." I pointed to our purples eyes, showing that we can be spotted with that

"Don't worry about this." Nikolai said to us as we started to feel something inside our pockets, we checked it out to find some glasses and when we put them on, I could see that our real eyes color were hidden : her purple right eye were back to her former blue as for me, my eyes were also back to blue.....just to the other views.

"Thanks but we need to find something for the other Helen." I said before I feel something new again in my pockets, I checked it again and this time, I had two creditentials cards in my hand : one with an fake MI6 identity and the other.....were an real one and marked to be affiliated to the CIA. "Seriously ?" I sighed

"I'm sorry, Samantha but you need to improvise for now while I'm still helping around." Nikolai said, sounding sorry

"And what now ?" Helen asked to me.

"Let me take care of it, I'll give you the signal when I'm done with yourself." I smirked at the end, giving her a kiss on the forehead and making her blush before I walked away to join the road, fainting that I have just arrived by walk at this safehouse.

I was so stressed out about this as I was about to talk to Helen but not the one I know meaning that I have to talk to her like I was not knowing her at all. I decide to use my fake MI6 identity card for that as she wasn't sounding so pleased while talking to people inside the CIA. Before I was at her sight, I took a deep breath behind a cover before letting the game begin. I got out of the cover, walking towards her,

"Agent Park ?" I asked sure of myself as I was walking towards her

"Yes." She looked at me worried "Who are you ?" She added, raising an eyebrow

"Julie Nathanson." I replied showing her the fake MI6 card. "MI6"

"Oh, I'm surprised to see a friendly face from the MI6." She said, sounding relieved and throwing her cigarette at her feets "That change from Adler."

"Is there something wrong ?" I asked, sounding worried

"Just the job, things that are preoccupying me a lot." She grinned a little before looking at me "Why are you here ?"

"I'm here because the director will like to see you." I responded, not even sure of my own answer

"The director ?" She leaned backwards "He's here ?"

"Yes, he's in West-Berlin and he asked me to give that info." I said, lying more further

"Where exactly ?" She asked as in my head, I was rapidly trying to find an answer and I had to improvise quickly. I took the first answer I had.

"Sunny Diner." I exclaimed "An typical american diner in the outskirts of the city."

"I see where the place is." She got away from the wall "I suppose that he want to meet me in a matter of time, right ?" I nodded "Well, it's better that I'm on my way." She started to walk to get next to a car parked next to the entrance before looking at me "You came by walking ?" She asked me, curious about how I came

"Yes, a little exercise can help." I smiled at her, wondering about her next question "Don't worry, someone will pick me up soon, I will stay here for a moment and I will be on my very own way."

"Ok, then." She entered the car, removing her suspicious look "Thank you, agent Nathanson. Just watch out and stay out of the safehouse, it's an big advice." She started the car before driving away from the place.

I was so relieved and feeling weird to have done that but it was necessary. Once she was far away, I looked at the direction Helen was hiding and gestured her to join me, hidden just next to the garage door as we needed to talk about our next part of our improvised plan. We disposed off their Helen and now, improvisation is all we were making. Helen arrived next to me, seeing my worried look and she was half laughing about it because of me talking to her without been her actually.

"How it was ?" She asked me

"Hard." I simply said before thinking of the next part "Now, you will see how it feels."

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes "But you're coming with me, I will make the presentation with Adler, I presume."

"We are improvising our entire plan, Helen." I exclaimed to her "We're just maybe at a few meters from having our answers....and we will have to be fast in case."

"Of course." She redressed herself before taking a deep breath "Let's go play my own role." She then opened the way inside the safehouse as I decided to follow her like we said. I was so nervous about this as I could see Lazar....the other Lazar looking at me strangely. Adler was looking at the dashboard when he heard arrived near him.

"Park." He started to said before he turned his back to look at us.....and then, he leaned backwards at my sight, looking so curious and suspicious. "Who is this ?"

"Samantha Maxis, CIA" I offered my hand to him but he was still suspicious, he looked at Park,

"I was clear that I don't accept anymore new agents in the team." He told her clearly, pointing his hand towards me

"Damnit, can you just be normal for once ?" Helen said, taking the same style as the other Helen "She can help us."

"I never heard of you, miss Maxis." He affirmed, looking sure of himself and I needed to improvise

"That's my speciality, Russell Adler." I crossed my arms, smiling at him "I know you well but you don't know me and I think it's better that way." I raised an eyebrow to show him that I wasn't scared of him "I can tell a lot of things about you, things that Park don't know."

"Well, you convinced me." He retracted himself, wanting to not have a complete stranger to talk about his life before he go sit at his desk "So, you're working with the CIA ?"

"Exactly." I replied

"In which department ?" He asked

"Classified information but we used to be call 'Requiem'." My answers caused Helen to look at me with wide eyes....I needed to not get suspicious and I wasn't sure if it was my proudest move I have done here

"Requiem, I supposed that they are very secret." He looked at Park "Why is she here ?"

"She can help with....uhm...Bell." Helen replied, looking around "She's specialized in the type of things we did and she can help Bell to stay focused."

"A woman specialized in brainwashing." He whispered, biting his lips, looking at his desk as me & Helen looked at each other with wide eyes, Did they really brainwashed this Bell ? "I think you want to know more about Bell, right ?" I nodded to his question "You can find her file and what we did back in the archive room in the back next to Lazar workplace." He looked at the supposed place before looking back at us "Just be aware that you need to take it easy with Bell, she's an valuable asset."

"I will do my best." I said before he ordered to dismiss from him. Me & Helen were so relieved that it worked despite everything was against us.

We quickly walked to the archive room and we unlocked the door of it because someone to block it with an padlock. We didn't need to insert an code before I used my strenght to destroy the padlock silently and then we entered the supposed archive room, thinking now about where these files this Adler talked to us were. The room was filled with so many box that we needed to check every one of them and Helen has to help me even if she was supposed to know the place well.

After 5 longs minutes of searching, we finally found the files in questions and a part of our answers about Bell : they named her Jess Blackwell and put her inside the MI6 after Arash Kadivar.....left them for dead in Trabzon. Unfortunately, Helen was getting so bad when we discovered the file, she was seeing that their Park participed in Bell's brainwashing but I recomfort her quickly, knowing that I know well that she will never do something like that and that she was likely forced to do so.

We checked everything that were on the file and once we were done, we put them back to place and we needed now to think about what to do now next.

"So, now that we know everything about Bell, what's the next part ?" I asked

"You could try to corner her in an isolated place in the safehouse and make her talk." Nikolai came back to help us, advicing us.

"But she was brainwashed." Helen said, looking outside the room

"You can use your powers but Samantha will need to do it." Nikolai told us "You will need to use the key-phrase Adler is using to be able to find out." Helen started to wonder around trying to find out what it could be because there were nothing in the files talking about a key-phrase.....until I found out what was the phrase.

"We have a job to do !" I whispered, guessing the phrase "He's using that phrase everytime even in our universe."

"She's right : I just checked that info and Adler seems to use that key-phrase a lot in the Multiverse." Nikolai added, giving some smile to Park.

"Now with that answer, we need to find an way to corner Bell." Helen looked at me and I looked at her

"The dorm." I exclaimed "She's still in there, right ?" She nodded "Okay, once she got out, we get to her and we got her back into that room." I got away from the desk I was leaned against "Then, we are getting our answer." When I was finished, we hear a door opening and Helen checked where was the noise, it was the door of the dorm opening and Bell was getting out.

"Okay, let's go." Helen ordered me to follow her as she got out of the room to join Bell. It was time for us to have what we need. Helen decided that it was better to be the one who talk first. Bell just arrived at the desk that supposed to hers when Helen arrived next to her. "Bell, you're okay ?" She asked first

"Uhm....I'm okay, I guess." Bell replied, worried

"You're sure ? You're looking pale." Helen said as we could see Bell's face getting all white

"I...I think I need to get back to the dorm, I feel like I can't talk about Vietnam." She said as Helen put her hands on her shoulders "I think I need a coffee." Helen put her hand in Bell's back before looking at me.

"Samantha, can you prepare a coffee for Bell ?" She ordered me, winking that it was our shot but I needed to make sure that we weren't going to be too suspicious. I nodded as Helen was walking with Bell back to the dorm, leaving me alone.

I decided to comply to her order and to walk next to the coffee machine that was at the same spot in our universe. I took a cup and prepare the coffee. While the coffee was getting ready, I looked around the safehouse : it was feeling so weird to be in the same place but in another universe. Somehow, I could have feel Greta & Yirina presence next to me and I really hope that they're okay and not in danger. I was wondering if they were having some powers like us and that was an question I was going to ask to Nikolai when we will back at the new House.

It was weird to see Lazar like that, he was normal but it was weird. I was thinking about how this Lazar was feeling about Bell and according to what we heard with Helen between their Adler and their Helen, he was getting in the same line as her. He's still a good man for me but Monty mind-controlled him, I hope that we can save him from Monty's control if we can do it....like I want to save Eddie. Adler was somehow still acting the same in that universe : dangerous and paranoid.....like in every universe, I think.

But then, a vision of horror came when I saw their Helen return from that supposed meeting, causing me to turn my back to the entrance. When I saw her, she was walking towards Adler's desk. I couldn't move of fear.

"Park.....but....I thought you were already inside the safehouse !" Adler exclaimed, having saw her.

"What are you talking about ?" She said, concerned in an harsh tone "I just came back here."

"What do you mean ? You were gone ?" Adler told her as I could hear him getting up from his chair.

"Yeah, an MI6 agent came in, saying that I needed to meet with the MI6 director and I just came back because there were nobody." She admitted as I hoped that she was not going to see me

"Well, I can't help you with that." He laughed, joking about her and forgetting everything before taking a seat again "By the way, how's your CIA friend Samantha Maxis ?"

"Who ?" She said in a questioning tone "I don't know any Samantha Maxis !"

"Aw shit !" I whispered to myself silently

I realized that I was going to blow my cover by staying here like an idiot but I couldn't run away without Helen and without having our answer. We have gone far and I couldn't foiled our mission. I looked behind me as I saw Adler and their Helen slowly looking at me. I had no other choice right now. I needed to walk fast inside the dorm without looking back. I took a last look around me and I started to walk as fast as I can to the dorm as I could hear Adler calling me out. I couldn't stop walking and I changed my mind as I start to run towards the dorm.

I opened the door quickly to the dorm where I could see Bell and Helen next to the bed which I suppose to be Bell's one. Once I was in, I closed the door.

"What's wrong ?" Helen asked me as she could see my perfect worried face "Oh no..." She said, slowly guessing the situation

"You came back and they're going to be here soon." I replied, still holding the door

"Who came back ?" Bell asked, curious before Helen get next to her, her hands on her shoulders,

"Listen, Bell." She started "You need to help us."

"What's the problem with me ?" Bell said, looking confused but we couldn't hide it anymore, Helen removed her glasses, showing at Bell, her eyes,

"We need you to be cooperative." She pleaded before removing her hands "We need something from you."

"Samantha, I blocked the door, they're not able to open it until you will be both away from here." Nikolai told me, allowing me to get away from the door and to join the two. "Bell, we want to help you but we need your help first."

"Park, who is she ?" Bell looked at Helen, worried

"You don't need to worry, she will help you, we will." Helen added before she let me get in front of Bell to check the door, I removed my glasses, showcasing my eyes to Bell.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not here to hurt you but only to help." I said, getting close to Bell,

"What do you want ?" She asked me as she sit on her bed, scared but willing to let me help her

"I need you....to close your eyes and let me do what I need to do, okay ?" I replied and she nodded, still scared. She closed her eyes as I put two fingers of each hands on her both forehead sides. I could feel getting inside her head. "Okay, relax and stay focused." She nodded, looking like she wanted to cry and then, I took a deep breath and my eyes went fully purple.....

"Bell, we have a job to do !"

When I told her that, she was showing signs of resist but then, she started to stabilize herself, letting me doing what I needed to do. I could see her memories.....her real memories, not those Adler gave to her. The first real memory I could see was when she was left for dead at Trabzon, I could relive that memory inside her body as she was shot 3 times by Kadivar. She was looking troubled because she was living that memory too and some tears appeared on her face but she was staying focused.

Then, I could see others memories of her getting tortured by the CIA. Tied up on a chair and beaten up by Adler but it wasn't always like that, Helen was there too but she was always talking nice with her and never gave her an punch or anything else to brutalize her. Their Helen was so kind to Bell and she was having feeling for her and it was reciprocal. Bell smiled at seeing those memories with Helen but angry when it was the CIA. She was realizing that she wasn't really an MI6 agent and that she was brainwashed, making her cry.

I told her to stay focused, holding back my own tears as she wasn't deversing that at all, she was very kind and I can't let her suffer enough. Then, I could see myself in her body, attending an meeting with.....Perseus himself, unmasked. There were also others members from Perseus group : Volkov, Arash Kadivar and others persons that I didn't know the identity but no signs of Peck or Valentina since they have no links with Perseus in that universe. Perseus was talking but then, everything come to black for me as for Bell, she was still feeling it.

"Bell, you're okay ?" I asked worried, not removing my fingers

"I'm....okay." She replied in a low voice

"Did you hear what Perseus fully said ?" I told her and she nodded "Where's Perseus ?" She opened her eyes, looking at me with tears and she smiled.....

"From the safety......of Solovetsky."

It....it was the answer we've been looking for : the real location Monty was going to be. Nikolai was clear about that subject : in every universe, Perseus is always at the same location. I looked at Bell who smiled before getting pale again and falling on the bed, weak. I tried to not make her fall but it was too late, she was too weak to move but she could still speak and look at me.

"It's going to be okay, Bell." I told her

"You're sure ?" She asked, putting all of her strenght in it

"Don't worry, we will make sure of that !" I said with an smile. "Nikolai, it's done." When I finished, we could hear the beginning of a formation of an portal at the end of the room. "Take some rest, it will be okay." I admitted before I started to walk away, getting next to Helen who were awaiting for me as the portal was fully there.

"How're you feeling ?" Helen asked to me, worried

"I don't know, I wish that we could help her more about her true self." She then handed over her hand and we both joined hands together.

"I'm sure that we will do it, Sam." She affirmed before looking at the portal "Ready, Sammy ?" Then back at me with lovely eyes, her right one brighting at my sight. I could only smile at seeing her, knowing that she always the truth to me,

"I am, Sapphire. It's time to go home."

#black ops cold war #bocw #call of duty cold war #cod cw #cod black ops cold war #cod cold war #fanfic #helen park #samantha maxis

3 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @flynnifox!

The prompt by @flynnifox:

I really like soulmates, and please fluff as it's christmas, coffee shop au's are also great, I like wolf Derek, werewolves are known, all the AU's, did I say please fluff? I totally love slow burn, kissing, nipping, scentmarking, sassy Derek, sassy Stiles, Alpha Derek, having to share a bed, snow, ice-skating

Here's to hoping that I blended these elements together in a satisfying manner that captures the soulmates + scents + sass + fluffy adorableness. Most of that brought by Derek's red eartips (because he's embarrassed so frequently).

Read on AO3

*****

Chocolate and Notebooks

Stiles pulls his eyes from the road, taking a glance at the clock as the trees zip past in the dark and chilly evening. One glance at the clock confirms his suspicions.

"It's 5:43 in the morning and this is a very dumb time to be driving through unfamiliar territory." He tilts his head, as if considering an argument. "And yet, we're perfectly safe because the shields are up and the path is true." His head cocks to the other side. "And yet, we are definitely feeling sleepiness come on." He hopes the next town is near, and avoids the part of his mind that would happily confirm for him that he's getting closer to his destination.

Built-in GPS is a great tool for a spark, but it can take the mystery and adventure out of life if he indulges the spark too much. And despite what others might say, he's not entirely convinced that there isn't a limited amount of magic available to any one person or to all beings and he feels responsible for not flaunting his magic with every waking moment.

"Beacon Hills: Next two exits" reflects back at him in bright white text on a shiny green background. The name sounds like an omen. A good one he hopes, and a town with a good little history, he double-hopes. Can't be too careful when there are many town that are just full of weird and sometimes bad things. Hunters are less likely to come make a mess in a peaceful town than they are in one with a reputation for trouble. Beacon Hills is, as far as he dimly recalls, not a name that's appeared in association with anything terrible in the last many years. He and whatever supernaturals may be around should be fine, so long as nobody upsets the balance.

Which is exactly the problem: The spark that constitutes the magical expression of Stiles is actually very interested in mischief. Supremely interested in making some things very much tougher for Stiles, and he tries to remind himself it's also done a lot of good for him over the years. A nudge here to take this turn, and a thought of just stopping and waiting somewhere on the sidewalk for a minute can both lead to finding old friends and good times, or missing a falling chunk of the facade from some ancient brick building. He can't often tell ahead of time despite pleading with himself to make it work.

He's decided that Beacon Hills has to be a good place, with good WiFi and good coffee and all that stuff. Nature is also calling more insistently against his bladder and he really hopes there's someplace open this early with internet service and decent restrooms.

"If I find that nobody in this town is awake at this terrible hour, and that they haven't got decent WiFi, I'm going to write them a very bad review and hex their coffeemaker. There are standards for how these things should work and that last place was a disaster!"

Of the four diners in the last town, some eight hours ago down the highway that specifically avoids the big urban centers, he found no curly fries on any of the menus. They seemed completely unimpressed with the idea of tater tots and he considered hexing them in some way or other but ended up just snagging food from the hot case at a convenience store and busting a move out of town.

When the first exit for Beacon Hills comes up he passes without exiting. It seemed too wild, like it was a regional wildspace, or something. Maybe this was more of an industrial exit for logging and whatever else they do here. The next exit surely showed promise.

Quietly in the back of his mind, a tiny version of Leslie Nielsen's voice replied, "And don't call me Shirley."

Erica had been ready for several minutes. Derek's routine for how to open the store properly had been whittled down to just 12 minutes for the cleaning prep, six minutes to get all the food out and presentable, and another full minute just to go around and make sure everything was in order. Derek usually closed the shop up, but today claimed he was feeling restless and arrived before she had and was already bustling around.

"Derek, you pay me to worry about these things. Why are you even here?" She watched as Derek redid everything she had completed already so he could be sure it met his extremely specific standards that are in no way related to what actually makes customers happy. Well, he's the boss, so he can ask for what he wants, but she's going to do it the way she knows is best when he's back on his regular routine.

She hollers at him from the cafe's dining area while Derek is in the back organizing and cleaning things in the kitchen he'd definitely organized and cleaned the night before. "You should go run out in the preserve or something. You have too much energy to be in a confined space before 6 AM on this day or any day." Her supernaturally-enhanced hearing helped her catch every syllable in reply.

"I'm here because it's my place and I don't really need a reason to be here, now, do I? I can come whenever I like."

Erica smirked.

"Shut your pie-hole, Reyes, or I'm switching you to the lunch shift and giving your boyfriend the morning."

"He'll hate you for that."

"I'm the alpha. I can take it."

At Erica's snicker, Derek growls to himself. As the alpha, his hearing is even more enhanced, but he can also feel her perpetual sniggering through the pack bond. He tells himself he should be used to it by now but he just can't. Wolves aren't monsters, they need to behave in a respectable way.

"Are you lecturing me mentally on how wolves should behave respectably in polite society? I mean, I know these customers and though some of them are gems, some are definitely not polite and don't belong out in society."

"Erica," Derek says as he enters the room. "Keep it down. You don't want anyone to overhear you talking trash about others."

"It's three minutes to six and I'm going to open up."

"It's too early. We open at six. Don't mess with people's expectations."

"Anyone here this early is here because they have no expectations, just a demand for coffee, bossman. You really don't have anything to worry about."

Erica walks to the windows and turns the lights on in the displays. She admires the way the colorful borders around the windows twinkle in the early air. They cast bright splashes of light into the intersection, visible from any direction of the street. Derek does fine display work and has made a version of the town in a huge diorama lit with tiny LEDs in the windows of the shops and homes, and decorated with the tiniest versions of people Derek knows. Customers, family, random people who caught Derek's eye are all represented in some way in the display.

She thinks it's the softest, brightest, most wonderful thing Derek does and he pretends to everyone like it's no big deal. He's the most ridiculous rough-edged marshmallow-soft man she's ever met. When she told Boyd about it, he agreed with a knowing nod of his head before he returned to mixing beverages for the fine residents and visitors who came through the door.

The subtle change in the air alerted her to potential danger, and she spun around to catch Derek standing at the door, looking confused and surprised at the man standing there.

"Uhh, if you're not open, that's fine, but I really need to use a restroom. Can I come in anyway to take care of the call of nature? She's been really, really going hard these last few miles."

Erica's snort escapes unintended. The man at the door snaps to look at her and grins, holding a thumbs-up. He gives her a sort of look that says, "Is this guy broken?" and Erica replies with a look that yes, totally broken, and harmless.

"Hey, welcome to Beacon Hills! We're opening right now and the bathroom is right down there. Go for it."

The man exhales and seems to weaken for a moment before taking off at a fast walk between the chairs and to where Erica had pointed. "Close your mouth and the door, Derek. I hear the landlord hates when people waste energy heating the outside."

The door closes with a click at the same moment Derek's jaw slams shut. She watches him transform from bare surprise to guarded watcher in an instant. "Watch out. I didn't hear him at the door when I want to go put the mat out."

"You still have that in your hands, Derek." She looks at him as he seems to realize the truth. Derek opens the door and half throws it out, trusting it to land however it lands as Derek seems to listen to the back area.

"Are you listening to him pee?"

"No, I'm—" He flashes his eyes at her. There's a visceral reaction for any beta to the flashing of one's alpha's eyes, but Derek does it so often they've all become somewhat immune to the power of it all. Derek's mother warns him about overusing his strength when a simple word will do, and while Erica see's he's gotten better with her coaching of him, he's still got a long way to go before Talia's advice actually makes a solid difference for him. "I can't hear anything. Nothing at all."

"He's probably just shielded, Derek. There are a lot of good reasons for that, especially when traveling alone."

Derek is a good-hearted alpha, and he's young, but Beacon Hills has been stable for long enough that his parents leaving him in charge isn't a disaster. Talia and her husband are consulting for another pack in Idaho and Derek's putting his training to use at home. The pack in Idaho had lost their alpha and Emissary in an attack of some kind, and they some serious help getting back on track. The mission, as it were, will be for a couple of years, but they're not far away and so the territory isn't really at risk even if Derek has some trouble to deal with.

"I don't think he's a threat, Derek. He seems kind of fun.." Which Derek would have considered if he wasn't being totally weird about this guy.

"Anyone who can sneak up on us is a potential threat, Erica. I shouldn't have to remind you of that." Indeed, Erica flashed right back to the moment she and Boyd finally returned to the territory after having been abducted by a nutty grandpa hunter and his daughter.

"Yeah, but like you also said, we can't just go in being suspicious of everyone. What if he's one of the good ones? You're the guy in charge, so people need to know they can come to you. He's probably not even aware this is our territory."

"We can't know that."

"I can just ask him, dude." Derek looks at her with an expression of disgust. She's solid in her sense of this new guy and his not-at-all-threatening intentions. Whoever he may be, or whatever he may be, he's good people. And he's not a werewolf, so there's no direct threat there. Derek's had his heart broken and his trust trampled on extremely effectively, so he's far less willing to consider his instincts and defaults to threat mode whenever something both supernatural and unexpected comes around. She regards him for a moment.

"I think we'll be okay. I'll find out about him and you hang in the back and listen, okay?" She considers for a moment. "What do you think he likes to drink?"

"I have no idea," he mutters and heads to the back room. Derek's taking things down to DEFCON 3 from DEFCON 2, which seems like a mark in her favor. She's not his first beta, but she does seem to be able to get him to think about other stuff sometimes when other people can't. When anyone happens to notice she says it's her brilliant curls, but the blonde really does seem to get his concern in a way the rest of the pack don't. Except for Boyd, and he's too busy being silent to really help Derek so directly. She lets a smile fill her face and nods to herself. Derek is trusting them more. He's been training them hard, and it's working, and she sets herself to figuring out who the new guy is and what new guy is up to.

She forgets for a moment how weird he was when he opened the door.

Stiles throws his bag onto the bench in one of the high-backed booths with a good line of sight to both the counter and the entryway and heads to the counter.

"What can I get you?" Erica says in her warmest 6-am customer service voice.

"Well, I think I want a coffee, but I also need to sleep soon, so that's probably a bad idea. I mean, caffeine can put me to sleep if I have a little, but it's been a while since I've taken my medicine and my ADD is probably going to fight me for sleep if I don't indulge in some delicious beverage action."

Erica laughs. Stiles beams. "I'm here with the jokes, folks."

"Oh, yeah, I can tell that about you."

Too quietly for normal hearing she hears, "Ask him who he is!" in an urgent tone from the back. Erica rolls her eyes briefly, making sure the visitor doesn't see it. She growls subvocally.

"Welcome! Sorry you had such a weird first experience with my boss at the door. He's not normally a weirdo."

"Eh, I'm not worried. I'm plenty weird. But he is okay? I mean, he seemed kind of... surprised?" Somehow, in some manner she didn't interpret, she heard the meaning behind it. The boss seemed both surprised and actually afraid of something, and the new guy had picked up on it.

Erica beams. "Yeah, we get that all the time. Boss is a total weirdo." Derek growls in the back and sets something hard against the table.

Stiles glances in the back then makes eye contact with Erica. "Is he alright?" he mouths at her.

She shrugs her shoulders. She isn't about to explain the weirdness on display right now. Derek's never been like this before.

"I am not sure he slept at all last night. He normally works the closing shift. I'm here to open, but when he needs pre-dawn fun, I'm apparently the one he needs to hang around."

"Oh, really?" Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, not like that. I'm taken. Boyd's a really good guy and he's not into sharing."

Stiles had glanced again to the back room but that comment brings his full attention right back to her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to flirt! I am just like this all the time."

Erica leans back. "Hear that, Derek? He's like this all the time." She adopts a theatrical pose for a moment. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Erica, and that's Derek."

Stiles doesn't miss a beat. "I'm Stiles, and you're one of the betas, then? Is he the only alpha around? It seems a little..." Stiles seems to taste the air, sort of. Erica isn't sure how to describe the way he takes an open-mouthed whiff and kind of lets his eyes go blurry. "Oh, I see. Got it."

"What do you think you get, Stiles?" Erica says with a dash of suspicion. She'd heard Derek freeze in the kitchen, his heart racing now. She tries to be a cooler customer than her alpha and hopes that Stiles isn't offended. She's not really sure what a spark is, or what they do, but Derek's got an idea and it's shocked the hell out of him for whatever reason.

"Eeek, yeah, sorry! Sorry. I find I do this all the time, and usually on accident, if I haven't prepared ahead of time. I'm a Spark, and I'm really just here to find a quiet place to rest and drink something hot and warm. I'd like to write for a bit in the booth," he says, gesturing with a huge swing of his arm to the booth.

Erica nods at him. "I am pretty sure we can accommodate that request and we won't even have to do some paperwork for it," she makes a show of stage whispering, "Since my alpha is hiding in the back instead of greeting important guests like he's supposed to do."

This time the growl is clear to everyone. Erica smiles wickedly. "Alpha Hale, I believe you have some alpha-level responsibilities here with regard to our guest. Don't you think you should get out here and be polite?" She winks at Stiles, who returns the wink with a laugh he tries to stifle behind his fist.

Derek comes out and now Stiles looks at him without saying anything. He seems to close-off a bit, looking at the alpha in his black shirt and forest-green apron with the cafe's logo on it.

Erica notices the two of them and then grabs her phone from the counter and stepping out of the way.

"Stiles, you're welcome to be here. We have no restrictions against visitors," and by this Stiles heard between the words that the alpha meant. "of the supernatural variety." Stiles hadn't met an alpha so formal as this before. He mentally knocked his hand against his temple to try to recall proper protocols. He was not successful.

"Hello, Hale. I mean, alpha. Gah. This isn't going well. I don't do many formal introductions and I'm sorry to mess it all up. I hope you're not offended."

"No offense taken." Derek looks at the counter and then at Stiles. "Do you know what you'd like to have to drink this morning?"

"I hadn't decided that, though I imagine you already heard." Erica and Derek watch him as he catches himself glancing back. "And crap! I left my shields up without regard to any possible werewolf packs in the area. I'm sorry!" he said emphatically. "I would have taken them down in the parking lot if I'd have been thinking. It's been a long trip, and again, I—" he waves in the direction of the restrooms in the back and at that moment Erica and Derek both got a whiff of the spark without his protections. It took a moment to realize he was still talking.

"...distracted, on top of that, I've got ADD. You know how it goes? Wow, this probably explains why Alpha Hale had some trouble deciding what to do with me when I was at the door." Erica couldn't tell if Stiles noticed Derek was taking deep breaths, seemingly to scent him over and over again, which our staunch Alpha Hale never, ever does.

It was the, "You can call me Derek," said in a very warm and cozy tone that persuaded Erica to get the pack here. Whatever was going on needed witnesses, and she wanted to be sure someone else could verify this totally bizarre behavior by their alpha. Stiles didn't lie about being a spark, though if he were doing sexy mojo on the boss she doesn't know if she could tell. The scent of magic in the air happened only after he released the shield, and even hen he's been fading into the background. She snaps a picture of them with her phone and sent a broadcast message to the pack. Derek's phone vibrated, and he subconsciously pulled it out and put it on silent, no vibration, as he continued talking with Stiles.

Something is odd here, and Derek's doing things with his eyebrows that are perfectly adorable. Erica wants to find out what's going on, and she wants witnesses. While Derek and Stiles worked out the beverage order for a specialty hot chocolate, Stiles had also talked himself into a muffin and some veggie snacks. She's been providing summary notes to the pack and comes to a conclusion about this situation that she debates momentarily, then shares with the pack.

She's certain that Derek is deeply smitten by this newcomer.

By 6:45 the pack had all arrived, even those who had other jobs they were supposed to be getting ready for. Derek seems to have blithely missed the fact that the pack had arrived at the cafe and had been huddling together at one of the larger tables getting the play-by-play from Erica about whatever each had missed before they arrived.

Stiles had developed his senses such that he noticed Erica noticing them, and noticed that there were more wolves coming. Their energy wasn't hostile, but it was actively engaged. As he talked with Derek, he couldn't help but wonder why the alpha didn't seem to notice the rest of them. During a break in their chat about a particularly delightful staff he'd made friends with at a diner in Nevada, Stiles nodded to where the pack was sitting and waited for Derek to follow his gaze.

"Why is your pack here, Derek?"

"I don't know." He seemed surprised at not noticing. Derek looked at them and noticed that yes, everyone had arrived. He gave a glance at Scott who was loosely affiliated, being an alpha in his own right but mostly disinterested in claiming territory and building his pack.

"Don't you have work, Scott?"

"I'm sure Deaton won't mind that I came for the show at the cafe." Stiles laughed, and Derek looked at him, confused. "What show?"

Stiles isn't sure how to break this to him, so he tries to ease the wolf into the idea in a roundabout sort of way.

"Derek, what time is it?"

Derek glances at the clock above the exit. "It's almost seven. Why?"

"When did I arrive?"

"Just before we opened, I think." He scrunches his eyebrows. Stiles smiles, having already started learning the way the wolf's expressive eyebrows communicate thoughts he doesn't speak with his words. "Yeah, I opened the door and you were there."

"So you've been here talking with me for an hour and haven't noticed?"

Derek looks at Stiles, and the pack, and then moves to leave. Stiles gently sets his hand over Dereks' own hand, interrupting his sudden (and fearful?) escape.

He opens his backpack and pulls out a notebook. He then slides out of the booth and heads to the pack table, and pulls up chairs for him and Derek to join them. He sets the book down.

Wrapped around the book is a worn leather cover. It's got a few scratches and stains, and it is soft to the touch. Stiles loves this book, and as he holds it up for the pack and explains the leatherwork. Derek looks at the cover, surprised. Erica brings over a plate of cookies from the display and they show the same triple-spiral pattern, a triskelion, curled into itself in a familiar form.

Erica seats herself in the lap of one of the pack members. "Good morning, Boyd" Boyd nods to Stiles, unfazed by the recognition. Derek looks surprised that Stiles knows Boyd's name, and even more so that his packmate seems unbothered by the way Stiles already knows his name. Stiles says hello to each of the pack members. He gets to Scott and instead of "hello," Scott asks, "Why does your book have Derek's tattoo on it?"

Derek finds himself flushing and he's not half-sure why. The triskelion is a common symbol in supernatural circles. They've got it on their cookies, as the plate suggests. He grabs one of them and takes a bite. Stiles laughed at Scott and confesses that he sometimes blurts questions out, too. When Scott beams back at him, Derek sees how the two of them will become fast friends.

Then he tilts his head to the side. The pack takes notice, and then so does Stiles, who has turned to him with a sly smile.

"I hope you will allow me to share something with you all that I haven't shared with anyone, not even my dad." They nod, and then Stiles looks at Derek and raises an eyebrow.

"Go ahead, I guess. Not sure what you need our permission for."

Stiles grins at Erica, who knows something special is about to happen that will make all everyone's grumbling about being up early disappear in an instant.

"At three years old the little wolf, with his bare little feet and scruffy face and pointed ears, was poking around at the wild things in the area near his home. He couldn't control his shift yet, so sometimes he was half wolfy and half boy, and he barely noticed."

Stiles tilted the book at Derek who took a look at the image and said nothing, but his heart skipped a beat and his eyes opened wide.

"And the little wolf saw a lizard. The lizard told him that they could be friends, but that they needed to learn how, because one day, the little wolf might have to remind the lizard who his friends were."

Stiles didn't glance at Jackson, but a couple of the others did. Danny set his hand on Jackson's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"The little wolf did not understand the lizard. He asked the lizard how he would know him in the future. The lizard said they were family, but they didn't know that yet."

Scott's excitement overruled his better judgment again. "Jackson was a kanima and we found out that he was Derek's cousin!"

Stiles glanced at Derek and nodded. Derek avoided looking directly at anyone, but remained attentive in his listening. When Stiles continued, he looked at Jackson and smiled slightly. They had a rough go of things at first, but they've come a long way. Jackson really has worked on letting his fears go, the ones that fed the kanima and he's becoming a better man. Derek likes to think the experience has humbled him, too. After all, it isn't every day you discover that a dangerous were-creature was basically possessed by the darker side of his own fears and ended up doing some pretty awful things until they got it all worked out.

Jackson is reliable now, and Derek is one of the people he sends texts to when he is looking for advice. Derek considers it good progress that Jackson doesn't just ask about pack advice anymore, and instead about real-life stuff, like running a business and all that stuff.

Stiles has moved to a new story and Derek catches his name again. He inhales once more, and Stiles stops to scoot a little closer.

"Oh, sorry, this one is out of order. I'm not sure Derek will remember it." Derek sets his hand on Stiles' knee almost as an afterthought. It is as if being with Stiles is a thing that has already happened, and they've been together for decades. They haven't, but it's so easy to believe it, to trust Stiles, and to trust Stiles with his pack.

"When the little wolf had his first birthday, his asshole uncle creepy pants..." ("That's exactly who he is" slips Lydia under her breath, echoed by "yeahs" around the table.) "...gave little wolf a box. Little wolf was a boy at this time, almost never being wolfy at all. The box in front of him had a very interesting handle. Uncle creepypants showed little wolf boy that he could spin the handle around and around and listen to the music the box played. Little wolf boy was so excited! He squealed with delight and turned the handle in his tiny fist and laughed himself silly."

"But when the box clicked and the lid opened to reveal an ugly clown on a spring, the surprise of the moment caused little wolf boy to change, with little sharp teeth and little sharp claws and he knocked the little box over with his mightiest growl." Derek chuckled at this. The image was adorable even if he still has a thing about clowns."

("Derek's got a thing about clowns." Scott chimes in. "Perhaps we should not keep interrupting Stiles, Scott?" Lydia said with a glare. Scott was suitably threatened into silence and put his hand over his mouth as a reminder.)

"After little wolf hit the toy he ran to his father. The man was tall, friendly, and even for a human he was strong. This man was not a wolf like the little wolf was, but he seemed just as strong as everyone else to the little wolf and Derek felt himself scooped into his father's arms and held close as he cried about the toy. His father soothed him, promising to damage his uncle's personal things in retribution for such a prank. Little wolf was happy, and though he dreamed of bad clowns for a week, he also dreamed that he and his dad would fight them together."

The pack seemed to adore the stories, and Stiles kept reading. Derek would have preferred if the pack never heard some of these stories because many of them revealed parts of his life he'd forgotten about, or didn't want to talk about. Stiles was a good storyteller, though, and he found that as he wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders, and felt the lean muscular strength there, and smelled the way the chocolate and spice and scent of orange blossoms filled his nostrils, and how there was almost a flavor to the frisson of electricity in the aura of the spark. He felt cozy, and watched as the pack listened raptly to this master storyteller at work.

"This one is set in the future. Not even today, but in the near future." The pack looked at each other. Stiles looked at Derek, sat-up so Derek couldn't read ahead, or see the drawings in the margins. He wanted them all to experience this together. After all, the future isn't set, but this particular event isn't one of great triumph or struggle, so it shouldn't impact much of anything one way or another.

"It's the kind of Christmas morning where the windows are foggy and the lights on the houses nearby are blobs of color on the glass. The snow is on the ground thick enough to muffle noise, but not so bad you can't walk through it. In the great house in the preserve the pack meets. The little wolf is now a big wolf, but not a bad wolf. He's got his own pack now, and they welcome family and friends from far away every Christmastime."

"In the kitchen big wolf makes hot chocolate using a secret recipe he's developed at his cafe and which delights everyone. He prepares a cup for his electric friend, and for his friend who knows the ghosts, and for his cousin and his betas, for his sisters and their partners. He brews a magical potion of love and chocolate for everyone and makes it only at this time of year, as a treat to himself for his birthday, and as a cherished present to those he loves." Stiles grabs a cookie and munches it and glances at his notes.

"Oh, dang. Sorry, everyone, but I need to skip the rest of this."

"What, is it PG-13? We can handle a little of that. You two are already cuddling up."

"No, it's not that. The future is not set, and these stories might be pretty close to reality, but they're not facts. I don't know if the newcomers — No, sorry, I just don't know what I should say, so I'm going to skip it. And don't go trying to get into it later, Erica, you literally cannot read it, on top of getting a nasty burn if you try to open the book without my permission." She grunts back at him something about Batman with all his tricks and traps. "We'll get to it when we come to it. Together."

Derek nudges him with his shoulder. "Oh? Have you already decided you're staying?"

"Well, yeah, duh. When people meet their soulmates they really shouldn't just keep going."

"What? You did?"

Erica takes a cookie and throws it at Derek. "You're an idiot!" Derek looks at her confused, and annoyed. Boyd gives him a look that says to Derek that he is, in no uncertain terms, "being so stupid right now I can barely stand how stupid you're being. Would you please figure this out right now so we don't have to hold your hand through this life-changing event? What the hell, dude?"

Derek looks at Stiles, looks at the pack, and Jackson says, "Yo, dude, just check your threads."

It's Jackson's way of referring to the bond the pack has, and how they're bonded together with something that mentally looks like an energy string tying them together, supernaturals and humans alike. It's also the thing that Jackson knows will have Derek realize the truth of the situation. Derek tends to have to feel things out for himself. He doesn't think his way so much as do and feel and goes with that. The pack bond is one of the alpha's most powerful tools for relating to the people he's responsible for, and Jackson knows it's the kind of thing that will quickly get Derek out of his stupid place.

So Derek does at Jackson suggests. The pack are held with bright yellow bonds, the links between betas and between betas to their alpha. There are links to his family in colors that are tinted mostly with greens. Even Danny and Scott, both of whom are loosely associated with the pack, still have bonds to the alpha which show as gold from Danny and red from the other alpha. But there's a new line now, one directly to Stiles, and from Stiles come lines to the rest of the pack. There's a sort of hum to the group, a frequency that sounds like a cat's purr, or the perfectly tuned note on a piano, or the breeze through the forest in spring.

And the smells are incredible. He can now tell each member by scent just by thinking about them. Stiles being part of the group enhances his abilities considerably. He has the scent of desert clay and expensive wine from Jackson. There's the mixed whiffs of poppy and rain from Erica and Boyd. There is a tickling scent of dust from Lydia that underrides the floral of begonias and sparking wine. Allison smells of metal and snickerdoodles, and Scott of cane sugar and browned butter.

"Why can I feel your dad, Stiles?"

"Oh, well, we're a package deal. I bet you that within two years he'll move here, become Sheriff, and everyone will know him. He's just that kind of guy."

"How do you know this?"

Stiles opens the back cover of the notebook and holds it up to Derek so that only he can see. He folds it quickly before the pack can lean over enough to catch a glimpse. "Does that answer it?"

"Yes and no. I mean..." Derek glances at the window. Erica watches, and Lydia gasps minutely before catching herself. She barks an order.

"Boys, why don't you go get those figures and bring them to the table?" Jackson and Scott rise without a thought, only belatedly realizing they came to attention at her order. She's got no direct power over them, but yet, she somehow really does. She's just that intimidating. When she and Jackson broke-off their relationship, they took some time to heal from it, and now it's genuinely a good, close friendship between them. But he still does her bidding without necessarily meaning to, at times, to his minor annoyance. Danny just laughs at the situation, having been Jackson's best friend for ages and aware that Jackson really just kind of likes to be told what to do sometimes.

Stiles sits upright as the figures are laid before them. Derek is red-faced again, up through the tips of his ears. It's easily one of his most endearing qualities that are entirely outside of his control. Stiles loves that about the man, that his embarrassment and pride show through even when he doesn't mean to. and he's adorable when he's struggling with it.

"Wait." Stiles holds one, and then taps the rest, seeming to sense something about each. "You made these figures? The whole pack?" Derek nods. "These are great! Look, you even gave Jackson a little lizard tail. So cute!" (Scott had brought the Jackson doll over and hadn't realized that feature had been added. "Asshole" is all he says before sitting back in his chair and watching his cousin squirm under Stile's scrutiny.

"They're wonderful, and I think you did a great job. You could sell work like this for some pretty big bucks online, Derek. But why are we looking at them?"

Derek rises from his chair and goes to the window display. There's a house there between some tall trees. He reaches to the back, opens the door, and looks at whatever it is outside of Stile's line of sight.

"Come on, big guy. You don't need to hide your toys. Bring it over!" Stiles says playfully, and the pack giggles. Derek's ears flush brighter red and he steps over to Stiles and holds up to him a tall, thin figure with wild hair, a backpack just like the one he's got (down to the star and moon diagram in the middle), and sets it in front of Stiles next to the figure that looks like Derek.

"When did you make this?"

"I've had dreams about you for a long time. I could never see your face, but I knew the hair, and the bag, and the flannel shirts and tight jeans. I knew you were coming, but it wasn't until a few minutes ago that I realized this was you."

Erica holds her hands out. Several pack members put fives and tens into it. "I told you they were soulmates, but you all didn't believe me. All Stiles had to say was that he needed to pee and Derek just couldn't control himself."

Stiles and Derek could not help but laugh at that. Lydia and Boyd both gave half-disgusted, half-amused looks at her. Danny and Jackson were just laughing their asses off and Jackson silently filed that quote away for use later.

On Christmas day, not a week after they'd all met Stiles for the first time, the alpha and his soulmate had organized the pack to put up decorations inside and outside the Hale family home, they'd been cooking food, with Stiles giving Derek a flavor suggestion that perfected the recipe Derek's been working on, and they gathered everyone together for a huge pack picture. Stiles' dad and Derek's parents were able to get to town in time to welcome the happy couple to their first major holiday together and celebrate the blending of their families and pack.

As it turns out, the cafe has excellent WiFi and Stiles never has to worry about his things disappearing when he has to make runs to the restroom between writing chapters of his children's books about the Little Wolf and the Boy in the Red Sweater.

#flynnifox #*stereksanta18 #*fics19 #*gifts19

16 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 6 years

Note

Could you do "I'm sorry I got way too into playing house" for the weird sentences prompts? 😁

ao3 | other fics on tumblr

warnings: mentions of past animal abuse, mentions of dog killing other small animals (birds and rodentia), some vague anxiety stuff

pairings: platonic lamp, gen

words: 2,203

notes: sure thing! i am also shoehorning this in as a sequel to this previous prompt fic of mine in which the sides adopt a tripod pitbull puppy, so, like, Dog Content™

The puppy’s name, once they came up with it, was just too perfect, really.

“Croft,” Roman cooed, and Croft lifted his head from where he’d been napping on Virgil’s lap. “Crofty, honey, come to papa, I’ve got a new toy!”

Croft snuffled a little, settling his big, meaty head back on Virgil’s nap and staring at Roman with doleful eyes.

Roman sighed at him. “You’re the laziest puppy I’ve ever met,” he said, lowering the toy he’d been squeaking.

“Did you not hear him doing laps in the hallway at three in the morning?” Logan asked, from where he was absentmindedly running his hand up and down Croft’s back. “The dog is nocturnal.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Patton said, and shot a Look to all three of his roommates, as if to truly underline how horrible they were at following Logan’s advice, even Logan himself.

Logan’s original name idea was Crofter’s Premium Spread Logan’s Berry Organic Jam, potentially shortened to CPSLBOJ, which was understandably shot down by everyone in the room. Roman’s next proposal was Crofter’s, to which Virgil said they weren’t naming the dog after a fucking jam brand, and Patton proposed the mediation of Croft: so they could say he’d been named after the jam brand or after Lara Croft from the Tomb Raider franchise.

So Croft had immediately been given a Croft collar tag with all of their phone numbers on it, a custom jam jar toy Roman had commissioned from someone on Etsy that Croft rarely touched, and a fluffy Lara Croft toy that was tucked up by his dog bed that he also rarely touched.

Croft was currently pretty small, since he was still a puppy; according to the vet, he’d probably top out around 80 or 90 pounds. But right now he just had really big ears, a very long tail, and three massive paws that he tripped over pretty often.

Virgil scratched absently behind Croft’s ears, and Croft let out a sort of grumbly happy noise; he was a talkative kind of dog, with a lot of sighs and grumbling and soft little barks they all unanimously called boofs.

He also had the tendency to arororowowow! at them whenever they all left him for a period of time, leaping up on them, eager to be pet, which Logan was trying to train him out of, because whenever he leapt up he didn’t exactly have two stable paws to land on when he came back down.

It wasn’t like they all left him all at once very often; really mostly whenever they went out to dinner. Their schedules were different enough that most of the time one of them was home to take Croft out when he needed it and work on basic training with Croft. He was a smart little guy, and very food-and-affection motivated, so Croft had down the basic sit, shake, lay down thing; they were still working on roll over and heel. And stay; he’d get so excited to follow after wherever they were walking off to, he’d gambol right after them, tail wagging excitedly.

Croft had been living with them for less than a month, but he’d managed to capture all of their hearts basically immediately.

Roman had, in fact, immediately recreated Rosa’s I’ve only had Arlo for a day and a half but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in the room and then myself from Brooklyn 99, with all of them. All four were on their various social medias to announce that they’d gotten a dog, and also printed out and framed in the living room.

It was odd, to look at the photo and Croft now; he’d already grown so much in the month they’d had him.

Croft had his problems too; potty-training was an ongoing battle. He couldn’t handle other dogs, and either got aggressive or whimpering and frightened whenever he saw them, so they always walked him early in the morning, when there wouldn’t be other dogs around. He was a menace to most small rodentia and birds; he’d already killed three robins, a mouse, and had grievously injured a possum.

But he was such a cuddly, eager boy—any difficulties were well worth it.

“Fatherhood has changed me,” Roman had declared once, which—well. Kinda, yeah.

Once they started parting ways, Croft picked his head up from Virgil’s lap, following after them; he slept in their beds, because they were all softies. Croft tended to alternate between all of them, moving from room to room throughout the night. They’d all learned to either sleep through a dog hopping on their bed, or to sleepily roll over, give him a clumsy pat, and go right back to sleep.

Croft was also a bed hog, so it was a bit of a struggle to actually get in bed once he was there; a lot of the time, they had to lift him, set him aside, and quickly lay down under the covers before Croft could decide he wanted to take over their pillows or the center of the bed.

Once Logan came back to his room, ready to curl up in bed, he was unsurprised to see Croft already sprawled wide across the bed.

“Croft, move, you know the drill,” Logan said, shoving him to the other side of the bed and promptly sliding under the covers, turning off the lamp, sending them into darkness; there was the familiar press of Croft’s cold nose as he situated himself, pressing as close as he could get to Logan.

Logan wrapped an arm around him, sleepy, and pressed his nose against Croft’s back, inhaling his doggish scent. He loved this dog, to a degree he’d never actually admit out loud.

“Good boy,” Logan whispered, and Croft let out a sleepy little sigh.

Roman woke up to a tongue on his face.

Roman squinted, and laughed a little, narrowly dodging a doggy kiss straight into the mouth, nudging Croft’s head aside.

“M’up, m’up,” Roman said, and patted him on the back. “Let’s hope you didn’t leave any surprises around the apartment, how about a bit of a w—stroll, huh?”

Croft had quickly learned what the w word meant, so they either spelled it out or used some other word, lest Croft start bouncing around eagerly.

No surprises, which was good, and Roman tugged on some clothes, hunting around for a plastic baggie and Croft’s leash, at which point, Croft started bouncing eagerly, running between Roman and the door, jumping and wagging his tail so fast his whole butt wiggled.

“I know, I know!” Roman said with a laugh. “Okay, now—sit.”

Croft sat. Well, mostly; he sat in such a way that his butt didn’t quite touch the ground.

“Let’s go!” Roman said, opening the front door, and Croft charged forth, yanking Roman forward with his odd-hopping gait, throwing himself into the walk with all his force.

Roman liked taking Croft on these early morning walks; it was some exercise, which was nice, and… well.

He’d never tell his roommates this, but Croft was a really good listener.

He knew that Croft didn’t actually understand him, but he was good at seeming like he did; there were the huffs, and pants, and looks that he did often. It was just kind of nice to… talk, sometimes.

“It’s probably going to be a bit of a long day,” Roman told Croft, as Croft sniffed interestedly at a tree. “I’m not going to be here a lot. Rehearsals are really picking up pace.”

Croft made a snuffling noise.

“Yeah, I know, I haven’t been here as much,” Roman said, “but you’ve got the other three, too, ya know? I’ll try and keep morning walks free and extra long, how about that?”

Croft tilted his head a little, and trotted-hopped onwards. Good enough for Roman.

The walk in the brisk fall weather continued like that; Roman talking to Croft about his schedule, his worries, and each time, Croft would make some kind of noise, or wag his tail.

It was just nice, Roman guessed, to talk to someone who’d keep all your secrets, and not judge you for silly things like I’m worried that I’m going to mess up onstage and everyone’s going to hate me for it. Croft would just wag his tail and lick him and flop down on the couch with him once they’d gotten through with the walk, demanding all the pets that Roman could give him.

Listen, Virgil had been team cat, all the way. He was as surprised as anyone to find out how much he liked having a dog.

Virgil cracked his eyes open when the door creaked open, irrationally afraid (when wasn’t he irrationally afraid, though?) that Patton had gotten back early and noticed Virgil wasn’t on campus today. Virgil frowned, because no one was there.

The sudden displacement of his mattress spoke of a different story, and Virgil let a hand flop in Croft’s direction.

“Hey, bud,” he said, voice scratchy. “I’m not really… at my best today, so if you wanna play tug or something—”

Croft made the grumbling-sighing noise at him, and instead laid his big head on Virgil’s chest, huffing a breath through his nose.

“Oh,” Virgil said, at last, and paused, hand hovering, before he at last let it come down on Croft’s head. “Cuddle time, huh? That’s what you want?”

Sometimes, it seemed like Croft’s favorite times of day were in the early morning, when he cuddled up against any of them and they both snoozed until they actually had to wake up. Virgil had never before met a (would be) 90 pound dog who was so convinced he was a lapdog.

“Mkay,” Virgil murmured, and they adjusted—Croft ended up, essentially, on his side, mostly laying on top of Virgil, head tucked in the space between Virgil’s head and neck.

Virgil, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around Croft’s body—to make sure he stayed in place and didn’t fall off, and stuff.

The warmth and the weight of him was doing something to make Virgil’s eyelids feel heavier, though. Croft would occasionally rumble in his ear, in his sleep; Virgil envied the swiftness with which he could fall asleep.

“You’re a good boy,” Virgil managed to say, and started petting Croft; his fur was kind of bristly, and it provided an interesting texture under his hands. Something else to focus on.

“Such a good boy,” Virgil murmured, hand continuing to make the lazy path up and down Croft’s back.

So dogs weren’t that bad, after all.

“Crofty Crofty Croft!” Patton sing-songed, bent forward, hands on his knees. “Who’s a good boy? Whosagoodboy?!”

Croft was eagerly wagging his tail. Who is the good boy?!

“Is it you?!” Patton crooned, and giggled as Croft hopped a little. “Is it you?! I think it is! You’re such a good boy, Croft!”

He scooped up Croft in his arms (he was genuinely considering taking up weightlifting so he’d be able to keep picking him up once he was fully grown) and planted a kiss on his little forehead, Croft wiggling in his arms.

Patton was alone for the evening, but that was okay, because he’d thought of some things to try with Croft! Things they’d never done with him before!

“We’re gonna do an experiment, baby!” Patton crooned, and at last set Croft down. “Okay, so, here we go! I got some new things to try!”

There were a lot of new toys. Unsurprisingly, Croft loved all the ones that would transfer a treat to himself; Patton could relate to wanting only food and love. Like, a lot.

To the point he immediately snapchatted an image of Croft chasing clumsily after a treat ball with that exact caption to his roommates.

Okay, he might have snapchatted a lot of pictures of Croft. His camera roll was now almost exclusively pictures of Croft or his friends, but really mostly Croft.

Patton, at last, dug out the piece de resistance, as Roman would say, and crooned at Croft to come—and immediately realized some flaws with this plan.

But he was gonna make it work!

“Patton, we’re home,” Virgil called, and frowned.

Croft hadn’t come running as soon as they came through the door. That was… different.

Logan and Roman were exchanging looks of a similar degree, Logan already half-crouched, as if just out of habit. He cleared his throat and stood up, straightening his tie.

“Kitchen!” Patton called, and all three progressed forwards, before coming to a stop.

Patton, blinking, turned from where he’d been stirring a pot on the stove, holding Croft (in a onesie) on his hip, as if Croft was a baby.

“Um,” Virgil said at last. “Patton.”

Patton blinked at him, and looked at Croft, and then back to them, before he laughed a little nervously, setting Croft back on the ground so Croft could hop forth and demand love.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got way into playing house.”

“We baby this dog too much,” Logan said ruefully, before immediately helping Croft unearth a slightly trapped treat from the treat ball and giving it to him.

“He deserves it,” Roman declared, and nobody could quite find it in themselves to disagree.

#my fic #my fanfic #lamp #sanders sides fanfic #anonymous #ask #logan #virgil #patton #roman

125 notes · View notes

aicosu · 6 years

Note

I really love Lilac and Lush, I can't even- just the way you capture their emotions feels so tangible and raw. I especially love whenever Allura accidentally 'rejects' him, like when she pulled her arm away so quickly. Gahhh. Ahem, anyway, I was thinking about writing a Lotura oneshot, but I was wondering if you had any advice about what to keep in mind for characterising Lotor and Allura. Is there anything you always keep in mind when writing for them? I'm worried about making them OOC.

Thank you so much for your kind words!!! There’s not too much I keep in mind to make sure they are in character. In fact I would say that ANY fanfic has characters OOC at some point, and honestly thats okay. Anyway, for Lotor, he needs to be ridiculously well spoken. I try to avoid too many conjunctions with him “won’t” becomes “will not” etc. He’s also very patient. He’ll listen to someones entire ramble before answering. And his reactions are verrryyyy minimal. Even when its something big, hes a quick thinker and a quick adapter so he’s hardly ever surprised or phased. I mean look at the haggar reveal to him. Its lke, whatever, i cant think about this right now im focused on something else. (which is why when you do surprise him it makes it more fun to see.)

Allura is equally well-spoken, but she THINKS when she talks. She does a lot of ‘running around’ in her sentences because she shares with you how she gets to her idea. “Perhaps if we,” “what about coming to a certain understanding,” I think if we must, well, in so many words,” She says a lot of -nothing- in order to make what she’s saying sound polite or to be kind enough to convince you she’s right. But shes also super impatient. I would bet money that Allura interrupts people the most on the show. She’s a princess, it isnt impolite for her to do so and she has no problem putting her foot down and going, “Excuse me but that's completely incorrect!” In that vein shes a bit ignorant to peoples smaller feelings. She shocked me in the first season by having no sympathy for pidge’s “I dont think I can do this.” Allura just says “If you don’t, we will all die.” Like damn. Gesture wise….as royals, Allura and Lotor move a lot in the same way. They’re mostly stoic, always at a demure rest, standing tall and waiting around. But when they have to move it’s pretty precise and elegant. And I think they are always aware of their ‘personal space bubble’But again these might be things I think of but they’re just my interpretation. Breaking these rules is always fun and I’m sure once you get started it will come naturally! Happy writing!

#aiask #fanfiction #mythicamagic

62 notes · View notes

darklingandy · 6 years

Text

Spirits of the Earth and Air

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Cold Blooded

Jack used to love the night.

Now the night was black as ink. No moon, no stars; the stifling low clouds obscured it all.

Jack used to love the night: he loved it because it was quiet and peaceful, because he wasn't surrounded by people who couldn't see his existence, because he talked to the moon and the moon listened. At some point — he didn't know when — that had changed. Now the night felt lonely; someone Saw him — two someones — and the moon wasn't listening because the moon was an impersonal rock millions of miles away. And he couldn't see it tonight anyway.

Maybe the night had always been lonely. Maybe he just hadn't noticed because being lonely was who he was, and he didn't know how else to be.

Deep in the woods, Jack was hiding. Two gigantic trees leaned against one another; the earth between their roots had eroded away to create an alcove shadowed by ferns. Jack crouched here, hidden away. He was hiding from a lot of things. Himself. His feelings and actions. His fear that he was failing at what he'd set out to do. But most importantly — so he told himself — he didn’t want to take the chance that any of the court fey might find him.

He pulled Hiccup's hoodie higher around his shoulders and buried his nose in the worn fabric.

Where was Sandy? He should have been here hours ago, and every additional passing minute made Jack more and more anxious, afraid that something had happened to him. Meeting with Sandy was supposed to be a quick rendezvous; now he wouldn't even make it back to Berk by morning. Hiccup might worry. If Jack took too long, he might start to think Jack had abandoned him.

A distant golden glow appeared through the trees. Jack held his breath and watched; he had to know it was a friend, not a foe, approaching. The glow drifted closer, bobbing its way through the forest toward Jack until he could distinguish Sandy fumbling his way along with his eyes closed. At the sight of him, some of Jack's anxiety left him in a rushed sigh, until he remembered. Any court fey that sees you must report it back to him.

He leapt up. "Sandy!"

Sandy startled. His neat sand cloud fell apart like annoyed confetti and fluttered down. He pulled himself together and formed exclamation points, throwing them in the direction of Jack's head. Not all of them missed.

"Sorry!" Jack threw his hands up and ducked.

Sandy withdrew. His face turned toward Jack — well, turned his face to the left of Jack actually — and somehow managed to radiate disapproval. What are you doing? he signed. Don't you know Pitch is still hunting for you?

He was being reckless. Avoiding one problem by trying to figure out another. Avoiding Hiccup, like a coward. Jack sucked in a deep breath of the clean forest air and pushed his jumbled thoughts out of the way. "I'm here to find out whatever you can tell me. I'm…gathering information."

You have a plan?

He wished. Shame burned in his gut. "Maybe," he hedged. "I. Just. What's going on at the court? The fearlings are gone but I haven't heard anything about what Pitch is doing. What can you tell me?"

The shadow king is angry. Sandy shook his head in despair. I fear for you. I don't like to think about what he'll do when he captures you. And he is determined to capture you.

"What about Hiccup?"

Hiccup? Confusion clouded Sandy's face. The boy? What of him?

Jack clenched his teeth, fear tightening his throat, but determined to force through it. "What is Pitch planning for Hiccup? What does he know of him?"

Pitch is bent on finding the Sight boy who beguiled his lackey away from him. There's not just orders to report on you anymore; there's a reward. For anyone who brings news of either of you, a boon from the king himself will be granted. Some have tried to bring him pretend news, and the punishment was …severe when their deception was revealed.

Jack couldn't breathe. He sunk down onto the earth, knees pulled up to his chest, willing himself to stay calm.

Sandy's hands kept moving. But some have brought real news. There's word of another human besides your Hiccup. A girl with knives. He paused in his frantic motions and felt his way toward Jack, to put a hand on his shoulder. Jack, what have you gotten yourself into?

"Astrid," Jack breathed. So, word about her had got back to the court already. Jack scrubbed a hand through his tangled hair. "Things are getting worse then."

Sandy nodded, serious. I don't know what else I can tell you.

"Something… helpful." Jack stared at Sandy. As if Sandy knew what he was supposed to do. As if Sandy could have answers for him. "Please! There must be some information you have that can help! Something! Anything! Advice, maybe! I just — I don't know what to do, Sandy."

But Sandy just shook his head sadly, a troubled crease between his eyebrows, and Jack shook his head and got up, pacing back and forth, wearing tracks into the dirt.

He was such a fool. Now the reason that he'd come bubbled to the surface of his mind: that he'd come here because he didn't know what else to do. He'd known, deep down, there wasn't anything anyone could tell him that would help. He was in uncharted territory now. He was on his own.

"I have no idea what I'm doing, Sandy." The admission hurt his throat as it clawed its way out; his voice cracked. He swallowed and couldn't meet Sandy's eyes.

Sandy hesitated. Then… why…

"I promised Hiccup that I would get him back his life, but how am I supposed to do that?!" Jack glared up at the brumous sky where he knew the moon would be, behind the thick layer of clouds. His voice was too loud; it reached through the trees enough that if anyone were nearby, they would hear him. "I have to protect him, and I don't even know if I can! But I have to."

Sandy fell silent. He watched Jack, and waited, and listened. He'd known Jack a long time.

"I know he keeps saying that we'll come up with a plan, but how can we do that? We're one human, one faery, one bairseach, and one Sighted boy — that I don't even know what he is right now, exactly — against an entire court of knights and tricksters and—and—and everything!" His face contorted with terror: pupils constricted, mouth working as his breathing sped up, skin pale white. He ran out of steam and crumpled onto the ground, curling up on himself like a wilting leaf. "I've asked too much of him," he said, voice coming out small. "And I've… I hurt him."

You have… a… bairseach? Sandy’s face went slack with awe, but Jack wasn’t looking at him.

Memories of what he'd originally planned for Hiccup came back to him: the sacrifice, the kidnapping. Hiccup saying things like you came here to kidnap someone and when were you going to tell me and you could have told me. And Hiccup was right: Jack should have told him sooner. He should have trusted Hiccup. Should have been more honest with him.

Shame smothered him so strongly it was hard to focus on anything else or think about what he needed to do now.

Sandy drifted toward him, hands moving gently. You know what the odds are. He will not likely come out of this alive.

A shudder went through Jack but he folded his arms and jutted his chin out. "Then neither will I."

Sandy's eyebrows rose toward his hair. You… feel that strongly about this human boy?

Jack opened his mouth. He was going to explain, to say something sane like yes I care for him, we're friends. But instead, what came out was laughter. Impossible, hysterical laughter. He fell back and his limbs sprawled out and he was staring upward at the black sky, laughing his heart out. Brittle frozen pine needles cracked and snapped underneath him; he grabbed a handful and threw them into the air, letting them flutter down around him like confetti. "How could I not?" he shouted. "How could I do anything else?" The laughter faded into the stifling, watchful silence of the night. A deep, weary sigh. Just a breath. "He's…" Jack searched for words. "Impossible. Brave. Fearsome, sometimes. I…" His voice trailed away, following the laugh into nothingness.

Sandy wasn't quite facing the right direction, but Jack could still see his face. Could still see the expression of dawning awe and horror, mingled on his kind features. …love him. His hands signed the sentence that Jack left unfinished. His expression was hesitant, horrified, incredulous. Like he couldn't believe that even Jack would so stupid as to fall in love with a human. How could you do this?

No. No no no no no. Jack choked as he cast a sideways glance at Sandy. Oh gods. Was he really so transparent? "……what?"

As if there were any way he could deny it. A faery cannot tell a lie.

Fall like this, Sandy signed.

Jack said nothing. The word ‘love’ left him reeling, feeling punch-drunk and dazed like he’d been hit. His mouth opened and closed. Sandy’s question — How could you do this? — loomed in his mind. How? He was fey, one of the ancient aos sídhe; things weren’t supposed to work like this. The fey were said to be heartless, cold-blooded creatures like fishes.

Jack had no proof that it was true but he had no proof that it wasn't either. What would it feel like, Jack wondered distantly, if he had a heart to beat? Did it feel like this, terrifying and vivid? Or was he imagining the warmth pulsing in his jugular when he put his hand to his throat?

Did he have a heart, or did he not?

Fall in love so dangerously.

He wrinkled up his nose and turned his face away from Sandy, cheek pressing into the cold ground with a groan. "What?" he breathed again, only half aloud. The ground, hard with frost, remained unyielding beneath him. No more soft loam of the autumn. "I…I don't…"

You're my friend. Sandy's shoulders drooped. I don't want to you die, but if you stick by this boy…Maybe you should leave.

"What?"

Sandy just kept shaking his head, still stunned like he couldn't believe what was happening to Jack. Leave Berk. You managed to get away before Pitch could manipulate the nature of your servitude. Now is the time, before he finds you again.

"I can't just run away!"

Yes, you can, signed Sandy, confused over Jack's resistance. There are no orders binding you here.

But the idea sickened Jack; emotions sitting heavy at the bottom of his stomach and chest, squeezing him. Leave Hiccup? To save himself? He could scarcely breathe."You don't understand. I'm not going to abandon Hiccup!"

Sandy held his hands up. Alright. But at least tell me you have a plan.

"No," Jack admitted. He pressed his hands over his eyes, blocking Sandy out. "But we will."

Nevermind. Just tell me you'll come out of this alive and… whole.

"I will, uh …do my best."

Sandy let out a slow, tired sigh, his head bowed. It is exhausting to be your friend, you know.

Jack propped himself up, grinning through his exhaustion. "But what a good job you do of it."

I know. Sandy preened a little. Then his face became serious again. I'm sorry I can't help you. This is getting more dangerous. Pitch has been combing every corner of the court for anyone who's helped you. I don't think I'll be able to meet you again.

Jack felt a twinge of guilt that he'd asked Sandy here. Sandy was a good friend to put himself in danger for him in the first place. He nodded. "I understand. Thanks, Sandy." He patted Sandy awkwardly on the shoulder. "For everything. I appreciate it. What would I do without you?"

Probably die.

"Always such an optimist." Jack stood up, brushing pieces of pine needles and clumps of dirt off himself. "Well… I guess I'll see you when I see you."

You're leaving?

"Yeah." Jack nodded, more to himself than to Sandy. "I need to go talk to… to the... to Hiccup."

next chapter >>

#soteaa #hijack #frostcup #spirits of the earth and air #my writing #fanfic

6 notes · View notes

eryiss · 6 years

Text

Gambler’s Luck - Chapter Twelve

Summary: A drunken night at a bar; that’s how it always starts. A few shots, some self loathing and a decision you would never make when sober. But for Laxus Dreyar, the morning after doesn’t include regret, copious amounts of aspirin and a stranger in his bed. For he only made one drunken decision, becoming the personal driver for professional gambler - Freed Justine. [Fraxus Multi-Chap]

You can read it on FanFiction, Archive of Our Own or under the cut. You can also see the chapter list here. Hope you enjoy ^.^

Chapter Twelve – The Breakfast Conversation

Standing in his kitchen, Freed found himself oddly aware of his surroundings. He could see the condensation on the side of his kettle slowly getting captured by the boiling water; he could smell what he suspected was reheated Indian food from below his apartment that had snuck in through the open window; and, perhaps most importantly, he could hear the sound of water rapidly beating against the door to his shower cubicle in the bathroom adjacent to him.

A bathroom that was, at that time, occupied by Laxus Dreyar.

This fact was complicated for many reasons. The most prominent complication was that, the night before, Freed had come to the sudden and completely unwanted realisation he was starting to have feelings for Laxus. His employee. A man who was clearly vulnerable at that moment and didn't need his boss thinking of him in that way.

After what seemed like an explosive reunion with his mother, Laxus had visited his boss and stayed the night in Freed's living room. They'd talked to each other about what had happened, Freed suspecting that the both of them had shared more about themselves than either was normally comfortable doing. Then, once they had both retired to bed, Freed was left alone with the fact he had some kind of romantic feelings for Laxus. After an unpleasant night of dealing with the revelation – in which he had enlisted Bickslow's advice by texting him for his thoughts on the matter – Freed concluded he had no desire to let the mental chaos continue in the morning. Hence his attempt at distracting himself by focusing on anything and everything he could.

However, rather annoyingly, that focus kept staying to the sound of the active shower. Freed was just glad he wasn't a teenager anymore, he dreaded to think how he would react to the knowledge a bathing Laxus was metres away if he were still in the throes of puberty.

He shook his head slightly as he heard the gentle click of the kettle finishing its job. Seeing it as a distraction, he poured the boiling water through a strainer to make himself a mug of blueberry tea, a favourite of his. As he gently stirred the beverage and let it cool, he pulled his phone out from his pocket and opened the three unread messages he had from Bickslow after he had fallen asleep while waiting for a reply.

From: Bicks

Look freed this is all it boils down to. you either ignrore it or do something about it right? If you ignore it theres no problem. If you don't then you gotta find out if he likes guys and if he likes you then act on yout feelings when you know that. treat it like a normal relationship, forget he works for ya.

From: Bicks

You there dude? You asleep or making out with blondie. Cause if youre just ignoring me you can bet your ass that when im at yours next month im gonna whack you over the head for it :) :)

From: Bicks

Okay, G'night ya little baby. And when you wake up and read this just make sureyou don't freak out. You aint don't anything wrong and you aint gonna. Your doin a freed and over thinking crap. Nighty night. Xxxxx

Despite the fact the messages were doing the opposite of distracting Freed form his issues, the gambler chuckled. Bickslow had a way of making things seem considerably less severe in his way of phrasing things, all while managing to give pretty good advice. It was partly the reason why the two had remained friends despite living in different countries.

Gently sipping at the steaming drink he had made for himself, he leant back on his kitchen counter and listened as the sound of his shower slowly died down. He let out a small sigh, knowing that he would have to face Laxus eventually.

Freed hadn't been awake for long. When he left his bedroom, Laxus was already awake, dressed in the same clothes he had worn before and had returned the sofa bed into its normal state. They'd greeted each other a good morning, Laxus had asked if he could use Freed's shower – making sure that Freed knew he didn't want to impose and he could bathe at home if needed – and that had been the extent of their conversation before Laxus retreated to his bathroom. The brevity had worked in Freed's favour, but he knew he would have to let it fall sooner or later. Most likely sooner considering the fact Freed was going to offer Laxus breakfast, it was the right thing to do.

With a sigh, he placed his tea on the counter and went to reply to his friend. He had no doubt Bickslow would carry out his threat of violence against hins if he didn't get his reply the moment the gambler woke up.

To: Bicks

My apologies for falling asleep on you, but at least I didn't hurt your pride and force you to hit me. And I should thank you for the advice, I'll try to take it. Sorry for waking you up with my little problems, I'm sure you would have rather been sleeping.

He placed his phone on the counter and reached into one of the lower cupboards, taking out two large mixing bowls. He then manoeuvred his way around the kitchen, taking out the needed ingredients for pancakes as well as some bacon and syrup for their breakfast; he was a good host if nothing else. And he was willing to use the excuse of a guest to forego his usual breakfast of a less than appetising smoothie and a piece of bread covered in low-fat peanut butter.

As he whisked the mixture together for the pancakes, he looked up when Laxus opened the bathroom door and walked out. He was fully dressed again and dried off but looked a little more awake than he had before. He looked towards Freed, frowning a little at the bowl of batter.

"I'm making breakfast, pancakes and bacon." Freed explained. "I've more than enough if you want some."

"You sure?" Laxus asked, Freed nodding. "That'd be great, thanks."

Freed nodded again, watching as Laxus sat at the small breakfast bar that partitioned the living room from the kitchen. The gambler felt oddly tense about being around Laxus, hoping he hadn't decided to make the breakfast so that he could show off to Laxus but hadn't realised it. He diminished that thought immediately, there was no point in second guessing everything he did. Even still, he felt himself get more rigid and aware of what he was doing now Laxus was in his presence.

Focusing on quickly whisking the batter into the right consistency, he risked a glance towards Laxus. The blonde was looking down, his posture lacking the pride Freed had become accustomed to. As he poured the mixture onto a frying pan, Laxus looked up to the sound of the sizzling.

One glance at Laxus' face made Freed pause. The blonde was obviously going through a lot – more than Freed had expected, it seemed – as his face was a mixture or sadness he wouldn't allow to come forth and tiredness coming from an emotional state rather than a lack of sleep. When he compared both of their issues, Freed concluded that he would be acting selfishly if he claimed the issue of his budding crush was anywhere near as bad or emotionally taxing as Laxus' mother returning without warning after so long. Laxus was Freed's friend and the gambler needed to help him, rather than just getting messed up in his own thoughts.

"How are you feeling?" Freed asked after a moment.

"Okay, I think. Slept pretty well, but I think that's because your damn sofa bed is more comfortable than my own mattress." Laxus chuckled, somewhat bitterly. "I spent some of the night thinking about what I'm gonna do about her."

"And?"

"No idea." He sighed, resting his head on his hand. "Pretty much changed my mind every other second."

With a gentle nod, Freed reached over the top of his oven and decided to turn the pancake over using a spatula rather than flipping it, that would take away from the seriousness of the moment. After letting the batter bubble into the shape of a pancake, he carefully slid it down and onto a plate. He placed the food into his oven to keep it warm, pulling out some bacon to accompany them.

He had chosen not to speak so not to say the wrong thing. For all he knew, Laxus wouldn't be appreciative of what advice Freed had to offer, and it was likely the gambler's advice wouldn't be that useful given he had a clearly biased view against needing parents. Besides, Freed expected he would be able to predict what Laxus would end up doing anyway. Nobody was that conflicted about something if they didn't want to do it eventually, the blonde was most likely just scared of getting hurt again if he took the risk.

With another glance down to Laxus, Freed saw he was hunched up again and resting his forearms on the counter, fingers interconnected. The closed off body language told Freed his decision to be silent was the right one.

Putting his attention back onto the food before him, Freed slowly made them both breakfast. The only time the two of them had spoken, Freed had asked how many pancakes Laxus wanted; he claimed he was fine with three and that he was sorry he wasn't the best conversation at that moment. Freed assured him it was fine and understandable, placing his breakfast before him.

"Thanks." Laxus said as he looked up, reached for the bottle of syrup and poured it over his breakfast.

"Its fine." Freed assured him, taking a seat opposite Laxus on the breakfast bar, also pouring some syrup over his meal. "I couldn't exactly leave you without anything while I ate, could I?"

"I didn't mean about the breakfast." Laxus said, cutting into some syrup covered bacon. "Well, I did. But not just that. The breakfast is just part if it. Give me a second."

Freed offered Laxus a small smile, deciding that he would do as he was told and not interrupt Laxus' train of thought. He cut into his food and ate a small amount of it, glad to find that it tasted as good as it could have been. The equipment in his kitchen was impressive – he had pretty much every utility available – and he was keen to show any guests he had that they weren't just for show and they were used effectively. Freed enjoyed both cooking and baking, thankfully the little breakfast he had made proved he was also good at it.

After slowly eating his through some of his breakfast – silently noting the taste as he did so – Laxus looked up. He wasn't entirely sure what had brought the thought to his head, but the blonde knew he needed to say it.

"Okay. So what I meant was, thanks for pretty much everything." Laxus began again, Freed looking towards him to show he had his attention. "Like, I'm not sure if you know it, but the night we met was a pretty low point for me. You probably noticed, I was kinda shitty that night looking back. And the fact you offered me a job even though I was being a drunkass and feeling sorry for myself, it was really good of you. You've been real patient with me, through a lot of shit that really has no effect on your life. You could've easily just passed me off as a random drunk at the bar or, last night, you could have just said I could have a couple days off and brush me off."

"I like to think that we're a little closer than that, Laxus." Freed said, voice almost gentle.

"I know. I think that too." Laxus said immediately, not wanting Freed to feel as though he had misunderstood their friendship. "What I mean is, like, you didn't need to do any of that shit. You could have just treated me like some subordinate, never talk to me and look at me like some poor drunk or whatever. But you genuinely treat me like you actually, I don't know, care. Like, even last night, you weren't just being polite or patronising or whatever. You actually tried to help. And if you were being patronising and polite, you hid it really fucking well."

Laxus chuckled a little, and Freed couldn't identify if it was bitterly or not. Either way, Freed was half tempted to offer some sort of physical comfort to the other man – nothing more than a gentle pat on his hand – but went against it. It wasn't the right time for that.

Instead, the room was filled with the sound of a radio station Freed had put on before Laxus had left the shower, a further addition to his earlier attempts to distract himself, and the gently clinking of the knifes cutting through the pancakes and bacon. Freed knew that Laxus wasn't apologising because he wanted Freed to say something, it was most likely something Laxus wanted to get off his chest but didn't want it to be spoke of again. If all Laxus wanted was for Freed to know he was thankful, he had achieved the goal and nothing more needed to be said.

To the tune of some eighties pop song, both men finished their breakfasts. Freed, who had finished first, stood up and placed his plate in the dishwasher. He sat down and nursed his now cooled blueberry tea, looking towards Laxus as he finished the rest of his breakfast. He sat back in the stool, a sigh leaving his lips.

"That was really good." Laxus concluded. "If that's the normal quality of your food, you're a pretty good cook. You, like, take classes or something?"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Freed smiled a little, taking the plate and placing it in the dishwasher, though not turning it on yet. "And no, I'm mainly self-taught. I learnt in the care-home, there was a lot of cook books, after a while you learn the basics and get experimental."

"You always liked it?" Laxus asked, sipping at some orange juice he had.

"At the start, no. When I was thirteen the care-home was understaffed and had a few young children who needed constant care, so we ended up having the same meal every other day because it was quick. I was getting bored of it and knew we had cookbooks, so I tried making some meals for myself. Eventually, as I grew a little older, I started to cook for more than just me and grew to like it. And it was always good to have a skill on my back pocket for when I needed work."

Laxus nodded, silently wondering what life living in an orphanage – or care home, as it was apparently called – was like. The only idea he had about it was from dramas that painted them as practically unliveable and with carers who hated kids and didn't hide it, but that was almost defiantly an exaggeration. Even still, living in a place where a thirteen-year-old had to cook for himself because the carers were so overrun didn't exactly pain a pretty picture, even if Freed was acting as if it was part of his daily life. In fact, the fact Freed seemed so nonplussed about it made it seem even worse for some reason.

The blonde was forced to think back to his own situation with his parents. With Ivan in jail one moment and out the other and his mother having left him completely, he had to rely on Makarov. They'd had their arguments, of course, but the old man had always been there for him. Without him, Laxus may have ended up in a care home himself.

Maybe he would have ended up in one with Freed. It seemed fate was pushing them together, given they went to the same gym, had a shared friend and met on the exact night where Laxus had needed Freed, perhaps giving Laxus crap parents was just fate's way of pushing them together further. Makarov getting in the way of fate's plan wasn't so farfetched either, the man was as stubborn as all hell when he wanted to be, especially about people he considered family.

Sadly, that thought lead him back to thinking about the issued with his mother, something he had done well to forget for the last few minutes. He sighed, deciding not to focus on it too much.

"Was that what you were gonna do?" Laxus questioned, looking to Freed with idle curiosity. "Work in the kitchen."

"It was an option. Magnolia has an endless number of restaurants, and you can live off of a chef's wages without much trouble." Freed explained, sitting back down. "And we were encouraged to be as employable as possible for when we became eighteen."

"Do you seriously get kicked out when your eighteen, or is that bullshit?"

"Technically, it's true." Freed sipped at his tea again. "But there's organisations to help with that if you have nowhere to go. And one of my carers, Bob, retired a few months before I left. He had a spare room so offered it to me while I found my feet, he still does it now I believe. But, to answer your question, you do essentially get kicked out, but it's not so bad you become homeless on your eighteenth birthday."

Laxus nodded again, glad to hear that Freed hadn't been thrown to the streets. He wasn't entirely sure why he would be bothered if that had happened, Freed obviously had no troubles with money or a place to live now. He supposed it was because nobody wants to hear bad things happen to people they care for.

After finishing his orange juice, he stood up and placed the glass in the dishwasher himself; it was literally the least he could do. As he looked to Freed, his mind was brought back to something Freed had said about why he had employed Laxus. Given what he now knew about Freed, he felt the statement had a higher level of importance.

"When I asked why you wanted me to work for you, you said people don't always get what the deserve," Laxus said, somewhat slowly. "Was that referencing you not, you know, having parents."

"Yes, although not because I think I was owed parents. Even as a child, I didn't particularly care if I was adopted or not," Freed said, watching as Laxus sat down again. "When you've lived in care, there's a stigma attached. People, whether they know it or not, assume you're a troubled child or have something wrong with you; sometimes this is true, but defiantly not always. Questions will be raised as why you weren't adopted, and this can affect your future. Without becoming a gambler, my horizons would have been average at best. It's something I accepted fairly young, but I still think it's unfair. When I saw you, I felt as though you were being limited by a situation you had no control over, like I had been, and I wanted to help you," Freed smiled a little, before adding. "My apologies if that sounds patronising."

"No, it doesn't," Laxus sent Freed a small grin to reassure him. "And even if it did, I still would have gotten a job out of it, so who cares?"

"I suppose so." Freed chuckled.

Once Freed finished his drink, he stood up and placed it in the dishwasher, this time turning it on. He looked back to Laxus to see him looking at his hands again. He seemed to be feeling a little worse again, perhaps the discussion of parents had brought back his troubles with his mother; the blonde really was an open book at times.

It was a quality that, until that point, Freed hadn't cared about. Previously, it had left to nothing more than a little teasing at the blonde's expense, but now it was showing Freed more things to like about him. An example of this was, when Laxus had walked past him, Freed could see a small dampness at the bottom of the mans hair. Freed had surmised that Laxus hadn't adjusted the height of the shower head for Freed's sake, despite it being set at a height not suited for Laxus' stature. That, along with the fact Laxus had perfectly replicated the locations of his coffee table ornaments after moving it, showed he was considerable more considerate than Freed had originally given him credit for. Like a lot of things about Laxus, Freed found it irritatingly endearing.

When he sat himself down again, he picked up his phone. It was face down on the counter and he had heard it buzz throughout their conversation but decided Laxus should be the priority. Now that the atmosphere had lightened somewhat, he opened the text.

From: Bicks

If you think id rather sleep than see you freak out about some guy you like then you don't know me freed. But you better take my advice cause theres no point in worrying about it. whatever happens happens. Blondie still with ya? If he is, tell him his favourite artist says yo. And use that exact word, I will know if you just say hi or some crap.

Freed chuckled a little at the text. Bickslow honestly was the best kind of person for Freed to be friends with. Someone to tell him not to overthink things and to just go with the flow while also lightening the mood. He rolled his eyes with a small grin as he typed out a response.

To: Bicks

You're a deplorable human being and that kind of bastardisation of words leads to the creation of phrases such as 'YOLO' and 'Bae.'

However, as you helped me last night I suppose it could be argued that I owe you something, so I will.

Although Freed looked up so he could make good on his promise, fully aware that the word 'yo' was one of few words that sounded bad coming from him, his phone buzzed immediately. He sighed almost silently, looking to the response with reserved tiredness.

From: Bicks

You really had to put them in quotation marks to make sure I don't think you actually said it yourself. And please film it so I cn watch you cringe. And so I know you did it.

After reading the text, Freed risked another glance towards Laxus. He didn't want to make Laxus feel uncomfortable by texting while he sat there awkwardly, but Laxus too was typing on his phone with a frown on his face, perhaps he had been holding off looking at his phone for the same reason Freed had. It didn't matter really, he quickly typed out a reply to Bickslow before the opportunity was lost on him.

To: Bicks

No, I will torture you with the doubt of you not knowing for sure if I actually said it or not. I hope that doubt eats your soul. That's all I have to say on the matter.

From: Bicks

Fine grumpy pants. But my freed cringe sense will tell me if it happened or not. See you in a couple weeks, your sofas still open right? Not got hunky blonde as a permanent guest now?

To: Bicks

You're more than welcome to stay. Although whether you annoy me To the point where I kick you out is another point entirely.

From: Bicks

That's fair. Love ya xxxxxxxx

With another roll of his eyes, Freed placed his phone down on the counter. When he looked back to Laxus, he saw that the typing the blonde had been doing had turned into scrolling, so obviously his conversation was over. Concluding that he wasn't going to be interrupting anything important, he leant forward slightly to get Laxus' attention.

"Sorry for ignoring you," Freed said, Laxus looking up from what looked like twitter. "Bickslow can be temperamental when you don't reply to him immediately."

"Don't mind," Laxus grinned a little. "So you two are actually close?"

"He lived in the care home with me. Left two years before me, but we shared a room for most of the time we were both there, so we bonded," Freed explained, chuckling a little. "I hope you don't mind, but I told him you enjoy his music."

"Nah," Laxus lifted a hand dismissively. "As long as you didn't make me sound like some creepy stalker or something. You didn't, did ya."

"I didn't. Whether he thinks of you like that or not is entirely different," Freed chuckled, seeing Laxus grin a little more at the comment. "He also instructed me to tell you that your 'favourite artists says yo.'"

At the word that was literally spat out with disgust, Laxus did something he hadn't expected to do when he had woken up that morning; laugh. It wasn't just a chuckle, or a snort, it was a full burst of laughter. The slight, clearly exaggerated glare on Freed's face did nothing to stop the laughter, eventually it forced him to rest his hand against his mouth to stop the laughter from looking so obvious.

Eventually, Freed let his forced scowl drop and just smiled at the blonde's display. It was good to see him smiling and more like himself after the mood he had been in last night. He had been too busy trying to help his friend at the time to notice at the time but seeing Laxus so solemn had been hard to witness.

When Laxus' laughter subsided – which took longer than Freed thought was fair, it wasn't that funny – his face fell slightly. Freed frowned in a silent question as Laxus played with his phone, the gambler thinking back to the obvious conversation Laxus was having on his phone while Freed was talking with Bickslow. The blonde had a face that was less than relaxed, so it was likely that whatever the conversation had been about was the reason for his sullen attitude returning.

"Are you okay?" He asked cautiously.

"Yeah, was just talking with Gramps," Laxus sighed. "Don't remember if I told ya, but he was the one who told my mom where I lived. Apparently, he was texting and calling me pretty much all night, turned my phone off so didn't get any of them until now. He wants to talk about it."

"Will you?"

"I have to, don't I? Can't ignore it forever," Laxus ran a hand over his face. "Maybe it'll help, 'cause I ain't coming up with any good ideas about what to do."

"Perhaps it will., Freed smiled solemnly. "And, unless you don't want it or consider it an invasion of privacy, I would like to offer my opinion," Laxus motioned for Freed to go on. "I'd say give her the benefit of the doubt and organise a meeting with her. The fact she's trying to reconcile says a lot, as harsh as this may sound, she didn't need to. And you shouldn't deny yourself the opportunity, you never know when it might be too late."

Laxus was silent for a moment, which gave Freed a moment to think about what he had said. He was very much of the mindset that family was earned, not given; this was particularly true with parents. It could be argued that Laxus' mother certainly hadn't earned the title, yet he had given the blonde advice that went against that mindset.

Perhaps he knew that was what Laxus needed, and that he needed to put his own view on parenthood to the back of his mind for the moment.

"I guess she didn't," Laxus mumbled a little. "You really think I should meet her."

"For closure's sake, yes," Freed nodded slightly. "And please don't think this is some kind of 'I didn't have parents, so you should be thankful for what you've got' kind of things. I just think this is what's best for you."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," Laxus nodded, offering a sad smile. "I should probably go and talk to Gramps, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Freed stood up as he spoke. "Good luck."

Laxus smiled a little and stood up, walking towards the door to Freed's apartment. Freed followed him, watching as Laxus opened the door and leant against it. For a moment, they stood in silence and looked towards each other. In the few seconds of eye contact, Freed could practically feel all the emotions whirling through Laxus' head at what he was about to do. The gambler silently hoped that their time together had offered Laxus a short heaven from his mess.

Eventually, Laxus sighed and pushed himself off the door. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't avoid the situation any longer. With a final audible sigh and run of his hand over his face, he looked down to Freed for a final time that morning.

"Thanks for letting me stay. Out of everything, I don't think I thanked you for that." Laxus chuckled.

"It's fine. What else was I going to do?"

"Guess so," Laxus chuckled. "See you later then, boss."

"See you."

After giving Freed a single nod, Laxus slowly walked through the door and began to walk down the corridor towards the building's elevators. Freed went to close the door but caught Laxus turning around at the end of the hallway and turn back, so he pulled the door open again and looked to the blonde with a small amount of curiosity.

"It, erm, it looks good like that. Your hair, I mean. Suits a pony tail," Laxus mumbled just audible enough for Freed to hear from where he was standing. "Like, you can see more of your-" He gestured to his own face. "It's good. I think it suits ya, maybe wear it like that more often. I dunno."

The elevator had been called and the blonde had walked into it before Freed could reply to the compliment. As the blonde left his sight and Freed closed the door to his apartment, he was left with the intolerable lingering question about what the compliment had meant. Was it just an observation, had he wanted to leave the morning on a topic other than his complicated family life, or did Freed have the arrogance and perhaps naivety to believe that could have been Laxus' way of trying to flirt with him. The last option seemed most farfetched.

When he felt a buzz in his pocket, the gambler perhaps hoped his answer would be given to him. Instead, he was met with the sight of Bickslow's follow up text, which only elected a slightly disbelieving laugh at the absurdity of the situation Freed found himself in.

From: Bicks

You said it. I could literally feel the venom in your voice and how much you wanted to kill me flowing in my blood:) Did blondie laugh at ya. If he did, it means he's your soul mate. I know souls and that's totally how it works!

Frees shook his head in wonderment. How it was at all possible Bickslow could know Freed had said what he'd been demanded of was impossible enough, but the fact he could send a text where he claimed Laxus could be his should mate at the exact moment Freed was confused if the blonde had been flirting was practically absurd. The gambler quickly sent a reply.

To: Bicks

I don't think soul mates are his priority at the moment, Bicks. He's got a fair amount going on in his life and I don't think he needs romance in the way of that.

To: Bicks

But yes. He did laugh.

Hey all. Hope you enjoyed some more soft angst, some advice from the worst person possible, and a little follow up from last chapter's cliffhanger (if you can call it that). I'm surprisingly happy with how this chapter turned out, so I hope you all liked it.

As always, thank you so much for any comments and kudos you leave. They mean so much.

Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading. ^.^

#fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #Ft: Gamblers Luck #freed x laxus #fanfic #fairy tail

10 notes · View notes

scripttorture · 4 years

Note

I'm not sure if this question has been asked before, but what would be usually the reason why people would torture someone? Not to justify (torture is unjustifiable in any situation) but I really needed a driving force for a villain why they would w/o sounding ridiculous or implausible, and any reason I come up with falls kind of flat (... Which I suppose is expected, since that's how the reasonings behind tortures are in rl I guess)

I can help you out here. And I want you to know that from a writing stand point this does make perfect sense. Motivation, however shallow, is important for capturing a character.

Yes a lot of the motivations in reality are flat, shallow and outright stupid. And it can be a careful balancing act, showing those motivations making them understandable without straying into justifying them. It can also be hard to make an interesting character with flat motivations.

I think I’ll start off with talking about motivations/‘reasons’ in reality and then talk a little about when and whether we should break from reality when we write about torturers.

Remember that there isn’t a lot of research on torturers. So I’m working from the little bit of research I can access, interviews with torturers and anecdotal reports. It isn’t perfect, but this is (so far as I can tell) the best information we have at the time of writing.

Understanding why torture occurs means understanding that it is structural violence.

I do take questions on abuse, I personally don’t see much point in sticking to the strict legal definition of torture when I’m trying to help authors do a decent job portraying trauma survivors. But sometimes the definition matters. And torture is essentially defined as abuse by government employees*, by public servants in positions of authority.

Over and over again the reasons torturers give for their crimes come back to flaws in the organisations they were part of. Consistently, across cultures and time periods, they describe understaffed, high pressure environments with no training, little supervision and the instruction to produce results or else.

This combines with cultural messages that violence ‘works’ and existing sub-cultures of torturers within organisations to perpetuate abuse.

It’s also worth mentioning that for most torturers they’re coming into an organisation where there are already established sub-groups of torturers. The group dynamics do seem to play a role in all this. Though it’s difficult to say how much when we’re entirely going from what torturers say and they are… demonstrably inaccurate when it comes to talking about torture.

Having said that; torturers do seem to encourage each other to more and more acts of violence. They treat it almost competitively. They will also, sometimes, approach new recruits and bring them into the torturer sub-group, pressuring them to participate.

I’m unsure how much of a role the social factor plays in torturers starting to torture, but it definite seems to keep them torturing when they say they’d rather stop. There are a couple of reasons why.

First of all there’s a sort of implicit threat; refusing to torture is seen as a threat to the torturer sub-culture. And these are people who have already shown a capacity for violence. There have been cases of torturers attacking other members of the same organisation for their opposition to, or refusal to, torture.

There’s also a social aspect; once involved with the torturer sub-culture the individual tends to become more and more cut off from the rest of the organisation. The group of torturers becomes more or less their entire social circle.

We’re social animals. So leaving, rejecting the entire social group, is a big deal. It’s hard for us to do.

The toxic sub-culture torturers form encourages them to root part of their identity in their capacity for violence and how ‘good at it’ the other members of their group think they are. They tend to tie ideas of toughness, dependability, achievement and (often) masculinity to torture. They frame themselves as especially manly, strong and ‘willing to do the tough jobs no one else has the guts to’.

It’s complete nonsense but it’s what they do.

And it means that facing up to the fact torture is pointless feels like an attack on their self worth. A lot of them choose to double down rather then face that reality.

This isn’t a definitive list of relevant factors. It’s my assessment of the ones that always seem to show up. There are usually other factors that feed into particular situations. Rejali’s Three Systems is a worth a read on that front.

Ideas about social hierarchy and transgression are common features. So things like ‘anyone who does That Terrible Thing deserves to be tortured’ or ‘no one Like That would be in this part of town for an innocent reason’.

All of this means that motivation can be tricky to write, because the real motivations are often not the sort of thing we’re taught are ‘interesting’.

Real, honest motivations are often things like:

‘I think those people deserve it’

‘I was told to’

‘Everyone else was doing it’

‘I couldn’t think of anything else to do’

‘I got angry and took it out on someone else’

‘I thought it would work and no one ever taught me another way’

That’s not a definitive list but you get the idea. And probably get the point about these sorts of shallow motivations being narratively unsatisfying.

So let’s step back from the reality and tackle the writing problem at the heart of this: how do we make this interesting?

There are a couple of different approaches.

The first approach I see is to accept that the motivation and the villain are shallow and shift the interest away from the villain.

Villains don’t need to be interesting. And they don’t need to be the focus.

If your story is structured in a way which primarily makes the villain a looming threat and focuses on the heroes, their journey, their relationships then adding detail or depth to the villain is unnecessary.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy does this with several of its major villains. The Shape of Water does it for the main villain. Zelda: Breath of the Wild (yes I bought a switch during lock down, and it’s my first Zelda game I am not sorry) does it with Ganon.

Another approach is to accept the motivation is shallow and shift the focus away from the villain’s motivation.

Villains do not need to have a grand philosophy or deep motivation or underlying pain in order to be a good read. They don’t need to be an intellectual threat to the heroes in order to be a legitimate threat.

For instance Joker in Batman: The Animated Series, I’d argue one of the best takes on the character ever. But if you go back and watch the episodes he isn’t deep. His motivation almost always boils down to pettiness, greed and a vindictive streak a mile wide. It is incredibly shallow.

But he’s fun to watch, because he’s unpredictable and funny. He’s also a legitimate threat to the heroes because he’s so incredibly destructive. More then any other villain his crimes are aimed at effecting large numbers of people. That sets the stakes high without any motivation or philosophy coming into it.

The focus is on what he does each time he shows up, not why.

Persona 5 pulls off a similar trick. Every single one of its villains has a shallow motivation. But each of them also has power over one of the heroes or another innocent person. They don’t need a deeper or more interesting motivation in order to make life miserable for the heroes. And every caper hinges on the heroes trying to stop that worst outcome.

As much as Fullmetal Alchemist is a deep story which touches on many complex topics, neither version (the original manga or the 2003 anime with it’s very different plot) had a particularly complex villain at the end of the story. In both cases the ultimate leader of the ‘bad guys’ just wanted more power. And didn’t care how many lives they destroyed to get it.

Not all stories need a Killmonger.

It’s always worth taking the time to consider what your story needs, rather then what’s fashionable in fiction at the moment. On a personal note some of my favourite stories have been either entirely focused on the heroes or had explicitly shallow villains.

The reality is that most of the time motivations for large scale atrocities are shallow and unsatisfying. Giving fictional villains deeper or more complex motives can work, but it can also mean twisting the narrative up to make it look like the villain (and hence their actions) are more reasonable then they are.

Killmonger’s twisted vision of what would make Wakanda ‘better’ works in Black Panther, just as White Wolf’s similar motivation did in the comics a decade or so earlier. They work because they’re directly competing with the hero’s vision of what would make the world better. And because ultimately it’s about showing why T’Challa’s way is better then the villain he’s facing off against.

But I can think of other stories where giving the villain a ‘deeper’ reasoning just served to make them look reasonable. While they were arguing for torture and genocide.

And… I just think we’ve got enough of that in real life.

At the end of the day your villain should be serving a role within the story you’re creating. Motivation is one of many ways that we try to make sure they serve that function effectively and entertainingly.

But, despite what some people would have you believe, it ain’t the be all and end all of whether a villain or story is entertaining. Personality, plots, aesthetic and sometimes how satisfying it feels to see their day ruined, all feed in to how well a villain works.

The threat they represent in the story isn’t dependant on whether their motivation is deep or nuanced or rational. It’s about their ability to follow through and sometimes the horrific nature of the desire itself.

So I guess a lot of my advice here is to consider what your villain actually needs to do in the story. Then take a step back and consider whether deeper motivation adds anything to that.

Be aware that the more complex motivations and drives you add the further you’re getting from a realistic torturer. Which is not inherently apologia, or inherently a bad writing idea, but consider what any deviation from reality implies.

I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*The international definition can include groups that control territory, ie an occupying force. In some countries the definition is slightly wider and encompasses some international criminal gangs.

#writing advice #tw torture #writing torturers #behaviour of torturers #motivations of torturers #threatening villains #motivation #writing villains #effects of torture on organisations #defining torture

78 notes · View notes

imnoexpertblog · 5 years

Text

I'M BACK, (maybe insert something here a little less aggressive than BITCHES) ... Nah

8/13/18

Ahhhh... It’s been a while, huh?

I had an Engagement/Housewarming party to prep for and host a couple weekends ago AND my best friend ever (ABBIE) visited from (the middle of no where) North Carolina! She was only here for a week so I took off a couple days of work to see her as much as possible. I figured it was the least I could do because she flew here just for my party. That sweet thing. (Honestly she’s kind of harsh and not sweet at all but she is sweet to me LOL).

You know what I love about my blog? I write it because I like it. I write it when I want to. It’s not something I have to get done, that I have a deadline for, etc. Dishes? Need to be done at some point every single day in my house. Laundry? Weekly chore that NEEDS to be done. My blog? Definitely something I do to relax and soothe me. Something that makes me feel good. Its not something I am obligated to do. Much like my modeling! But when I need a break, I need a break.

I took a little break because I was wearing myself thin a little bit. Not with writing, but with everything. I took a break from modeling when we bought our house because, well, I had to. I wasn’t getting enough sleep during the day because of the buying process; going to the bank when it was open, meeting with my lender when he was available, house hunting during the day, being awake for inspections, etc. Modeling was something that needed to be put on the back burner for about 5 or 6 weeks. Baby (my fiancé) is the one who pushed me to get back into it in July. Things started to slow down and I had time again! I have an issue though. I do this thing where I get very ambitious and excited to get back at something or start something new to the point that I overdo it. I booked about 8 shoots in the matter of 2 weeks and a lot of them were out of the area. I overdid it for sure and burnt myself out all over again. That wasn’t all that did it though; Abbie was about to visit, the house needed to be in order, having Nugget (my soon to be step-son) every other week, weddings and birthday parties to attend, we had our engagement photos done, etc. Honestly, adulthood was getting in the way. I am glad I booked so many shoots though because I am putting out my best content right now.

The engagement pictures are GORGEOUS. I am in LOVE. If you've read my two posts about how I began modeling, how I continue to do so now, and my advice for how to get into it, (A Model Was Discovered and Modeling a Year Later) you will recall my first real photoshoot. I posed as the bride in a wedding styled shoot for a photographer named Linsey Goodson here in Green Bay. She started it all for me and I've always been a huge fan of her work. It was such a treat for her to capture the love Baby and I have for one another in pictures. If you'd like to see more of her amazing work, go to https://linseygoodsonphoto.com/ to check it out! The wedding styled shoot we collaborated on is on her website, too. You can find her on social media platforms. I know I put a bunch in this post but if you want to see more, follow me on Instagram! @sabrinadwieland

Any who, I have a lot of requested blog-topics to cover right now. I picked 3 just to start off with this week. I’m just gonna let you in on what they are, right up front: Religion in my personal life, my love for the show FRIENDS, and being friends with the opposite sex.

Starting off pretty heavy with the religion thing, aren’t we? A follower of mine on Instagram asked me to touch on this and I found it to be an interesting inquiry. I feel like the new age of religion is that there isn’t much of it. Or am I just not paying attention? Or are people just private about it? I’d be surprised if you told me people are just private about ANYthing in this day in age. I just had a different follower of mine tell me that she feels like she knows me just because of what I post and how often I post. I thought that was pretty cool to hear actually; that people pay attention and find my content enjoyable. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I’m not religious at all. It’s most-likely from the fact that I wasn’t raised religiously. Now, some of my family members are genuinely bothered with me “not believing.” It’s irionic because these family member who are bothered are some of the ones who raised me on a daily basis. It’s as if they forgot they never took me to church or taught me anything about the Bible. My mother and I would recite the “I lay me down to sleep…” prayer before bed but that was about it. And that didn’t last very long anyway. I wouldn’t say it’s that I “don’t believe.” I just don’t see much proof of the actual … THING I am supposed to believe in. An all-powerful man somewhere in the sky that controls everything. It’s hard for me to grasp, but it’s not for me to say it doesn’t exist. I’ve always been a bit more scientific in my beliefs. I do, however, think that we all need something to believe for our own sanity. Whether that something is real or not. It’s nice to think that Baby, Nugget, and I can go to an afterlife of some sort and be together forever. It’s nice to think that everything happens for a reason and someone or something is taking care of us, and has plans for our souls. I wish I could know if this all was real. I just don’t know if it is and I can’t count on it. I can’t say I haven’t prayed to something in times of need or hoped that there was someone/something greater than all of us taking care of me. Like I said, I have a hard time believing that it’s a real thing. Crazy things have happened in my life, miracles have taken place; horrible things have also happened, too. I’m kind of stuck in the middle with religion. I don’t know what I believe, and I’m okay with that uncertainty. I live my life with reason and logic while also trying to hold faith in SOMEthing. Even if I don’t really know what that thing is.

FRIENDS. Holy cow if you even know what my name is, you also already know I’m the biggest FRIENDS fan in the universe. I know every word of the script, I swear. It’s almost sickening and I am super okay with it. LOL. People think it’s a little odd that someone as young as me (22) is so obsessed with a show that aired from 1994 to 2004. It’s actually been in my life since I was born because my mother watched it from the beginning. I obviously didn’t understand any of it until I was older, but I’ve been watching since as long as I can remember. My mother and I have had quite the history and we struggled with our relationship when I lived with her (and that is putting it mildly). But Friends was one thing that brought us together, rather than caused issues. I’ve noticed watching/listening to the show soothes me. This sounds really weird, but because of the positive connotation it has, it seriously de-stresses me and calms me down. I have this show playing on some electronic of mine at a point during almost every day of my life. It’s on when I’m cleaning, when I’m getting ready for the day or a photoshoot, when I used to do homework in college, when I cook, when I need something to fall asleep to, when I actually just want to watch it, etc. I know the show so well that I don’t even need to physically watch it, I just want to listen to it so I listen to it at work and even when I shower. I kick some serious ass at Friends trivia because I’ve watched the series (10 seasons. 236 episodes) over 50 times. I’ve done estimates and if I watch a certain amount of episodes every day on average (which I do), I have easily seen it all way more than that, even. I’ve owned season on VHS and DVD. I literally only have Netflix for the ease of FRIENDS watching. The day it leaves Netflix, I will be heartbroken and a huge mess. It’s like a security blanket for me. I laugh at it harder the more I watch it. I feel like I know the characters personally. I own a bunch of FRIENDS merchandise. I know an unhealthy amount about the show. I just have a really deep and strong connection to the show and it may be weird to some people but I love it. I recommend the shit out of it. I’m not even sorry for swearing, that was just passion.

Being friends with the opposite sex. From my perspective. I just talked to Baby about this so it’s coinditental that I write about it today. The wedding he and I attended on Saturday was actually for a long-time female friend of his. He was talking about how he was thinking of all the times they had and memories they shared. I found myself feeling… I don’t know the word exactly… I couldn’t relate. I have had two very close male friends and it was a constant struggle because they both wanted to be more than that when I was friends with them. Other standard male friends of mine that I never got very close to always eventually hit on me, asked me out, or flirted with me in some way. That isn’t me being conceited or anything, it’s just how it always went. I have one male friend that has never tried anything with me and I’ve never even met him. We lives a little bit out of my area and we met through friends on Facebook. He’s a great guy and I trust him a lot. I still can’t relate to Baby with the friendship because I haven’t even met my closest guy-friend. We don’t talk much anymore, either unfortunately. My best friend from work is a man, but he is also gay. We tell each other everything and we have a lot of fun together. Obviously there is no room for any possibility of something happening. I know straight men and straight women can be just friends, I just have yet to experience it myself successfully. I have no problem with Baby having close female friends; I trust him completely. I think I might not be close to any straight men because of my previous experience with those relationships. I’ve only seen the dangerous side of being friends because of who my friends were, and not the innocent side. I do believe you can be just friends, but I know there is possibility for something more to occur and I just try to steer clear of that in my own life.

How was your weekend? I had s’mom things going on. Baby is 27 and has a 3 year old brother (yep, that’s right!) and Nugget (who is 4) looooves playing with him. They get along really well. He came over and I watched those two boys for a few hours on Friday. Baby made us all dinner and then retreated to our den to play his new Madden 19 I got for him as our one year anniversary present. He loves it and I’m glad he does. The little ones and I played outside for the evening. Saturday was booked tight, as well. Baby helped his parents demo their new home while Nugget and I went to my sister’s 6th birthday party. Yep, I have a really young sibling, too. She and Nugget also are very close so they had a blast bowling. The future husband and I had a wedding to attend Saturday evening so Nugget spent the night at his soon-to-be grandparents’ house! He and my sister (we’ll call her Kin) had a blast. Then, the dreaded Sunday hit. Pick-ups and drop-offs with Nugget are not consistent each week (which I struggle with because I’m very much a fan of schedules and planning far ahead of time), getting back into the third shift groove isn’t easy, and it’s usually the day that Baby and I need to do our weekly grocery shopping. It’s my toughest day because I need to find a 4-hour block that I can sleep during to prep for my first third-shift of the week. That means that it needs to be later in the day, but not directly before I go to work (because I also need to sleep as soon as I get home Monday morning). It also needs to be quiet in the house, of course. I think my body knows it’s Sunday when it rolls around because Sundays are also the days I get migraines the most. I was having a pretty hard time today, but Baby is very attentive and spoils the heck out of me in the ways I need on Sundays. He often times makes me breakfast when we get up, does the dishes, makes sure I get that long nap in, he tucks me in beforehand, makes sure it’s quiet the whole time I am sleeping, gets me up on time, has dinner ready for when I wake up, gets me meds when I need them for my head, gets me water, etc. Sundays are my least favorite but he really makes them entirely tolerable for me. I can’t thank him enough. He pays such close attention to me and I am incredibly grateful.

That felt GREAT to write. Wow. I missed this. I don’t know what I’m writing next, but stay tuned for more posts SOON! (P.S. I would super appreciate if you shared this to your Facebook page and on Tumblr or both!)

#blog #blogger #new #newblog #newblogger #write #life #live #living #loving #lifestyle #lifestyblogger #love #fun #summer #wife #model #smom #stepmom #married #marriage #writing

0 notes

samuelohare-bafilm · 7 years

Text

ADVANCED DOCUMENTARY PRACTICE

BELOW IS THE TRANSCRIPTION FOR THE FEEDBACK OF OUR FILM.

Sana - “Do you guys want to start with what you think worked and didn't work with the film?” David - “I think the narration was nice, the way it was structured i think it worked well. We kind of edited the voice over and originally we had the parts in different places but structured it around the interviews. We took your advice (Sana’s) and put the reveal of the skate stoppers at the end. I think we could have dug deeper as we showed the history of skateboarding at the square but didn't show much more than that. We could have shown more about the characters and casuals that went to the place but we were limited with our archive. We didn’t really see how the people interacted with the skaters.”

Samuel - “Due to the limited archive we tried to create a visual story as close to what they (interviewees) were�� saying as possible because we weren’t able to show a lot of it. The main thing i take from watching it again was that the time periods they were talking about got mixed up as they mentioned “this era” a lot and it wasn’t as clear to when they were actually talking about but that was the only bad thing i felt was wrong with the documentary”.

Sana - “Yeah i don’t think it was always clear where and when we were in terms of the film. I think you did a fair amount of research. I found out a lot about bristo square that i wasn't aware of. Lots of good moments of revelation. I think my problem is the structure. I think you could have had a simpler structure and i would have liked you to reveal the demolition later in the film. It would have been more interesting if we were introduced to bristo before the demolition then set the film up to reveal the demolition. Then we find out how serious the demolition was. Having it at the start takes away the shock factor as we don't know what's at stake until we later set up how popular a space it was. For me that would have been a much better structure. To show how important a place it was to all these different cultures and communities, not just skateboarding and now we have a new space where they have actively put up skate-stoppers. That was my main problem with your film because the way it stands just now i found it confusing in places as we start here, then we go back in time and there is some jumping around. Then you have your characters, one of who we hear and one who we see, and you have your voice over. There was something about the balance of the three voices… Just correct me if i'm wrong is the one we don’t see there through the whole film or just at the start?”

Samuel - “Yeah he’s there through the whole film, he was just camera shy. I did ask him twice if we could film him but he said he was too nervous.”

Sana - “But we could of had a photograph or something to set him up?”

David - “There’s one at the end and to set him up there's text to introduce who he is”

Sana - “Yeah there is the caption”

Samuel - “Yeah because i asked him if there was any footage he could send us of him skating or even when he was younger skating but he was quite wary about doing that but the one video he did send was filmed from a helmet camera so you couldn't see his face. He only sent us one photo of himself, the one at the end with the mug”

David - “I thought about using that photo to introduce him but he starts with talking about BMXers and i needed that footage to go over what he was saying rather than a photo of him. Samuel - “When it came to the interview i explained what it would be about and he just went on a continuous talk for 12 minutes, smoking a cigarette through it all, without stopping once so it was harder to break it up in the edit and ask questions, but we got all we needed from him”

Sana - “I think the main problem that i have is i’d have really liked you to film skaters yourselves. For me the film is really interesting for what it shows, all the history, the square, the communities and the rap battles, all the stuff i wasn't expecting. Also the riots and so o. It was a very informative film but what was missing was skateboarding, somehow as filmmakers you could have captured the passion by filming some skaters. The actual experience of skateboarding is not in the film and if that had been there in sequences where you just let us watch the skateboarding and hear it, all of that would have just lifted the film and we could have emphasised with the characters and their battles with the space.”

Samuel - “We did want to do that but two of our leads fell through and when we showed up to film there was no one skating”

Sana - “ But you could have done it anywhere, not just bristo, as you can't really skate there anymore. But that was the main thing in terms of informing me of all the facts it's all there, the passion is missing, which you could have only created visually and sonicly, without words.

Holger - “Just like you Sana i didn't know anything about the history, i knew a bit about from your pitch so as a kind of social historical documentary there was a lot of interesting stuff in it, i can see all the research you have done. But again structurally you could have put more emotion into it, created a drama. I'm always looking at people skating, i want for people who are skateboarding to show why it's so important to them. For me this is a film of loss, losing a social space and a scene, and i think the structure should have incorporated this. You set it up with architectural drawings but you say we are not sure if this is a good place. You put yourself in one position as filmmakers and it comes across as a propaganda film for Bristo. So you didn't need to because you had enough footage to let the audience make the decision. I think the thing you needed to do was get the audience into what skateboarding does. You said you had the 12 minute footage of him on here, i think i would have liked to see this and see how skateboarders see and what they experience at an urban settlement, emotion. It's difficult but i would have gave it a try, from your point of view. To create a sense of loss you first have to show empathy and what there was. What it means? What’s so exciting about skateboarding? And why do people come to bristo? I feel skateboarding is synonymous for something that is lacking in big cities, you know, getting together away from anonymity. You showed it but emotionally you are at a distance. I mean you have characters but they're just contributing information, they're not ‘characters’ as such. They're the experts which means i'm far away from the. From what they i can see that they're in it and they felt the loss, the must have been really sad when it was all gone. So structurally to build it up a bit better you could show the characters skating rather than talking. Also if i look at a block with these things on it and i can understand it stops skating but i didn’t see the emotional impact of them. As a skateboarder you must see them and go “OOHH MY GOD!! THEY’VE DONE IT AGAIN!” you know this kind of emotional, i’m sure you can do it, ive been told it was sad and a loss but as a visual narrative it's not there yet. You have all the ingredients but it's not the right meal yet.”

Sana - “To go back to your opening sequence i think it was really effective with the drawings and materials, and i think it would be more powerful later in the film, once we've built up all that empathy then to see the space being demolished it would be like “What are they doing?” whereas when you see it at the beginning then you don't feel that empathy and just see a space being demolished”

Holger - “ What i like about the end is the guy saying… because you build it up to “this is really terrible what they’ve done”... for the guy to say “well actually, you can still skate it” and it's this really nice kind of… it's not black and white, you know skateboarders can work with the space and no matter what you do to the space there's this kind of hopefulness and that skateboarding spirit will never die. As much as it's about loss it's about future to.

Sana - “Another point about the end is that for me again if i was empathising with them the end would really work, it's not until you are told about the passion do you really understand that they'll skateboard anyway but you need to create that empathy.

Costas - “I really like the ending too as it could have been an anti establishment rant but it's not black and white, as you said, they're hopeful and they are able to adapt.

Sana - “It shows something about that it is anti establishment that they'll keep skating it.”

Costas - “But it shows that it's not propaganda that it's more like a calm thing. I kinda disagree, i felt there was a good build up of nostalgia and i got that very much. I think also that it would have been very attempting to go “oh i'll film my friend skating and i'll put that in it instead”. It worked just as well, especially with that shot of bristo today with Sam skating through it showing the emptiness of it. I feel that it shows the contrast that the emptiness is still there. And the skate stoppers at the end are quite shocking.

Sana - “I don't know if there's some way to film at the end where you don't identify with the figure but you can film that… the film that comes to mind is paranoid park and how they captured the sense of being on skates in a way”

Bogu - “I really liked your archive footage, i thought it was really cool definitely gave me the sense of nostalgia. I thought that was built up. Generally i thought it was very interesting as it's a place i just pass by and i've never paid attention to these things (skatestoppers) sticking out and was very interested throughout the documentary. I thought the voiceover was very good, and how huw sounded like he was a cool skater too, not that he's not a cool guy, but i felt it brought it together and i really liked it so yeah.”

Andy - “I personally was very interested and i also don't care about skating at all. I agree with costas that added skating footage wasn't needed as it would have made it like another skating youtube video for me if you used a lot of contemporary footage. I think the archive worked really well and i do understand that you could have put the demolition at the end but for this audience it wouldn't have had the same effect as we already know its been demolished but instead it becomes almost a historical film in the sense that you know what the event is and you get the backstory afterwards and i think that works.”

Naomi - “I think the beginnings really good, i like the voiceover and pictures. I would have liked music at the end as there is music all the way through.”

David - “Yeah we didn't have much time as we needed to get the export done. We did sound without adding credits so didn't have time for the music.”

Nora - “I thought rather than the build up to the demolition, which we all knew about, i thought the build up to the stoppers was really good as that's something we didn't see up until that point and i thought it was nice to have the silence with the skate stoppers.”

Bogu - “They didn't just demolish it they killed it for these guys forever.”

Jack - “I was wondering if your intentions behind the film was to convince us that the demolition was good or bad? I felt that when you gave the reasons why fit was demolished for me it kind of totally outweighed the skateboarding side and it felt justified.

Samuel - “There was a little bit we could have added if we had more time which was the fact that they opened up the square for a couple of weeks for the graduation and the skaters all came back and enjoyed skating it. Then they closed it down again and when it was reopened they had added all the skate stoppers. It was as if they were teasing the skaters with that.”

0 notes

darapnerd · 8 years

Text

G33k HQ Presents: MC Front-A-Lot Interview

Interview Questions From G33K-HQ & Darealwordsound (Wordy): Nerdcore Interview Collaboration Questions

MC Front: Thank you for bearing with me! So sorry to continually drop the ball on this. Here you go.

Wordy: What was your first creative outlet? MC Front: I seem to remember kindergarten involving a lot of drawing. First and second grade had poetry exercises sometimes. But the way we played D&D between 2nd and 6th grades was how my imagination really got fired up. We didn\'t like dice and maps that much. We\'d take turns DMing and just sort of freestyle the stories to each other at recess. Wordy: What was the first rap album you ever purchased? MC Front: It was also my first CD. DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, He\'s the DJ, I\'m the Rapper. Wordy: Who are your biggest music inspirations?

MC Front: Tom Waits, Public Enemy, Bjork

Wordy: Describe your studio to us.

MC Front: I have an Ikea desk that\'s been out of print for 10 years so I get fussy when anyone leans on it. Creaky, cheap old thing. It\'s the only one where you can bolt the rotating side shelves at any height. Perfect for the near-field monitors and re-aiming them for any version of the stereo field. I mix there in my bedroom which isn\'t treated, but I\'ve been in there so long that I can work around most of the room effects. I have a coat closet fully treated, very dead and dry, for vocals. I keep some buttons in there to engineer myself, but everything\'s still happening on the studio computer. My pre-amp and mics and monitors are satisfactory. I could use a better ADC/DAC.

I will record occasional hand percussion, etc, in that closet booth, but very little fits in there. For other acoustic capture, I\'ll rent time at a real studio (any time I\'m tracking my drummers) or I\'ll go field-record strings at someone\'s apartment.

A solid two thirds of the non-vocal sound on the albums is electronic, and I can get keyboard performances or work on drum machine material in the project studio without worrying about the ambient noises of Brooklyn.

Wordy: Describe your ideal home studio if money wasn\'t a problem.

MC Front: A proper treatment of the mixing room would be great. I guess I\'d have twenty of these Avalon pre-amps and a little drum room, as well as a booth big enough for upright bass or cello. There is almost unlimited fanciness available in the hardware market... I guess I\'d have to make a hobby out of shopping. I\'d still use Reaper as my DAW, though -- the least expensive version of that kind of software, and also the best. I could probably spend sixty grand on plugins.

Wordy: What is your creative process for writing and or producing a song?

MC Front: Baddd Spellah, my Canadian beatsmithing partner, has been kind enough to work on grooves with me for the last fifteen years. Usually I will start with something he\'s been kicking around, or he\'ll take a pass at some live drum that I\'ve been chopping up, and we\'ll add keyboard material from Gm7 (Gaby Alter), my longtime music co-writer. When there is a verse-appropriate groove that is in pretty good shape, I\'ll leave it on loop and write. Once in a while, I\'ll write a hook over a groove that feels like a chorus, and start from there. After I\'ve got most of a lyric, I\'ll put down a scratch vocal so that Spellah and I can build a full song arrangement. Then I\'ll record too many takes of the final vocal, and spend too many months dicking around with the comp, the mix, and all the instrumental details. Finally I\'ll listen to it on as many different devices as I can, fine-tune the mix, and stay up for a week and a half making increasingly bad decisions about everything on the album, leading up to the mastering appointment I foolishly committed to several months prior.

Wordy: What is your happiest On-Stage Moment?

MC Front: I think a PAX crowd demanded a second encore once. That makes you feel like a superstar.

Wordy: What was your favorite song to write or record?

MC Front: Maybe Stoop Sale? But that might be because the video came out so well. For the most part, my happiness with the process relies entirely on the result: it makes me happy to listen to a track if I don\'t just hear a barrage of fuckups that it\'s too late to go back and fix. But there aren\'t very many of those. Of all my lyrics, I\'m probably proudest of Two Dreamers from the Question Bedtime album. I feel like I worked out every bit of the story and then obscured it just enough that the listener\'s careful attention is rewarded.

Wordy: What advice do you have for aspiring artists?

MC Front: Practice a lot, develop your talent. Get the skills you need to properly communicate with whoever your creative partners are. Take the craft seriously but give yourself a break for not having mastered it -- that is a lifelong process with no actual end goal.

Wordy: What project do you feel best describes you as an artist?

MC Front: The Nerdcore Rising documentary probably says more about me and the band than I\'d ever be able to, and in kinder words. Of my own projects, I like the Zero Day and Solved albums as a window into whatever it is I\'m trying to say about nerdcore.

Wordy: How do you feel about the disconnect between \"Nerdcore\" and \"HipHop\"?

MC Front: Well, hip-hop is a cultural movement with very specific origins and elements. Rap is a formal music style that emerged from hip-hop. Any \'variation\' or \'new perspective\' that someone brings to rap is fine -- if meaningless. It might matter that you came up with a new thing to say, but the fact that you chose an unusual form for your expression should be the least interesting thing about it. You can write a march for your peace movement, even if marches come from military music, because the march itself is just a formal style of composition. You\'d be smart to note the ironic relationship there, or you\'d be dumb to suggest that there isn\'t one, or that your choice to use a march as an expression of pacifism somehow reaches backward and affects the origin of the form. Anyone who thinks they\'re \'expanding\' or \'liberating\' hip-hop from its roots by rapping about things that haven\'t been rapped about traditionally is probably an idiot.

My idea about hip-hop was only to observe that it was cool. Like, it was the coolest thing happening in American culture when I was a kid, and it probably still is. Breakdancers were the coolest kids on the playground. Graffiti kids were the coolest outlaws in fourth grade. And rappers were the coolest possible composers of verse.

To want to compose and perform verse in that formal style without having any direct connection to hip-hop, and without being cool, is the sort of desire nerd kids might express by themselves, away from arbiters of hipness, and share only with other uncool kids. The idea of nerdcore went no deeper than that, originally. I\'m glad that a lot of other DIY rappers have found that resonant enough to expand upon.

Wordy: Do you feel more \"Nerdcore\" rappers should know about its roots in \"HipHop\"?

MC Front: Definitely. I remember trying to write a Villanelle in a college poetry class. First, we had to read and dissect a sheaf of them. The professor was of the opinion that we would all flounder in the assignment, because there had been only a handful of good Villanelles ever written. I\'m sure none of us wrote one of lasting value. The point was to learn how formal composition connects works, and to appreciate the complications. You can always just do it anyway. But knowing where it comes from and how it\'s been attempted before teaches you how to try to do it well. I think anyone who wants to compose lyrics within the rap genre should know all they can about how raps have been composed so far.

That doesn\'t even begin to address the cultural issue. Some artists misidentify nerdcore as comedy music, and worse yet, think the joke is \"it\'s rap, but white kids are doing it.\" I think that outlook leads to the weakest possible songs, and is generally disrespectful of hip-hop in a way that concerns me and offends anyone who cares about American culture. Of course, not all of the nerdcore rappers are white, but all of the schticky ones are. I wonder if a delve into hip-hop\'s history would cure them of that impulse, or at least afford them the humility to hush it up.

Wordy: Are you involved in any philanthropy in your local communities or abroad?

MC Front: I try to do something in support of Child\'s Play every year. I\'m going to contribute to the upcoming Worldbuilders album project.

Wordy: Can you freestyle? Meaning rap off the top of the head? If so, can we see you drop a few bars next time live?

MC Front: I never do this! I think I\'ve conditioned myself into a certain kind of vanity. Almost everything on the albums is rapped in complete sentences, with rhymes that I\'ve never used previously. Freestyling doesn\'t work that way. I\'m too ashamed to let anyone see me freestyling about the frog, on a log, in a bog, who got sog-gy.

Wordy: Do you consider yourself a “GEEK”?

MC Front: Of course.

Wordy: In your own words, describe what the word “GEEK” means to you?

MC Front: I decided at some point a long time ago that geeks are all direct descendants of the side-show geek, whose job was biting heads off of chickens. They weren\'t special in any way, except that they were willing and able to do that thing, and it was a fairly extreme thing to do. But because nobody else at the carnival was willing to go to that extreme, the geekery came to seem like a highly specialized skill.

That\'s why you can be a geek about anything. You just need a topic where your knowledge or expertise is so specialized that it seems distastefully extreme to non-geeks. You can geek out about fantasy novels or about robot AIs. But you can also geek out about car engines or cooking. You don\'t have to be a nerd to geek out.

Nerds are almost always geeks, and their subjects of geekery are often recognizably nerdy. But a nerd is something else, a person who was already too weird or too smart, and felt alienated, and embraced geekery as an alternative to whatever broader pursuits the cool kids enjoyed.

Wordy: What is your earliest geek memory?

MC Front: I was a Star Wars geek starting at age three and a half when the first one came out. It was the only thing I wanted to do. I made adults take me to see it 11 times before Empire came out (I kept careful count). I collected the Kenner figures obsessively until they stopped making new ones a year or two after Jedi.

Wordy: What is your \"Geek\" hobby? Do you collect comic books? Anime? Video games?

MC Front: I do still love comics, but I own too many. Video games take up less space. I spend more time gaming than I do working on music, occasionally 70 or 80 hours in a week. It\'s as much an emotional self-medication as it is a hobby.

Wordy: Who are your Top 5 emcees dead or alive?

MC Front: In no order: Busdriver, MF Doom, Del, Q-Tip, Chuck D

Wordy: When is your next show or tour?

MC Front: When I get the dang old album done! Maybe spring 2017 for tour. PAX South is the soonest lone show.

Wordy: Do you have a new album coming out?

MC Front: It\'s called INTERNET SUCKS, and it is going to have a heavy \'get off my lawn\' vibe. Everyone will be mad at me, yet secretly agree with every word on the record. Watch for it to take your feeds by storm.

http://frontalot.com

more at darealwordsound

0 notes