#it was simpler before Rob had to go and get all specific

[rosiethedragongeek]

Hi again! Weird question, but if you could rewrite HTTYD: THW, what would you change?

Ohhh that's a really good question. This answer might get a little long, sorry about that <3

There was a lot that bugged me with this movie. To keep this a little simpler, I'm not going to include the characters from the shows because they seem to be trying to keep those separate so that people who only watch the movies don't feel lost, but you can imagine that all of the characters from the shows (particularly characters like Heather and Dagur would be featured prominently)

Things I would do differently;

Maybe mention something offhand to explain away the lack of support from the outcasts, berserkers, defenders of the wing and wing maidens in the event that they aren't included

Hiccup wouldn't have let the village get that overcrowded. Seeing as we see him relocating dragons to different islands all the time across the course of rob, dob, and rtte, I don't think that he would have let it get this bad.

Astrid and the rest of the gang would have more of an active role in the plot. Astrid was really reduced to being Hiccup's inspiration and very little more than that this movie which bothered me. In the last two movies, though admittedly trivial, Astrid and the other riders have had something to do in the plot. (Specifically in the 2nd movie, getting caught by Drago, turning Eret to their side etc.)

Maybe they're trying to take out some of the other leaders that are working alongside Grimmel to weaken him

Snotlout would be totally different. He would retain the maturity that he had gained through the course of rtte. They don't even have to cut him having a stupid romantic subplot in this movie just keep the Ruffnut thing going and scrap the Valka/Eret love triangle thing completely.

Ruffnut wouldn't be that stupid, she would have led Grimmel somewhere else, or have known Grimmel would have been following her and sent him on a wild goose chase or something. We see her being much smarter in rtte, and even without the rtte thing I refuse to believe that after everything they've been through she's still that dumb.

I wouldn't have reduced every character down to one joke. Fishlegs' character is about more than the stupid baby, Snotlout isn't obsessed with Valka, Tuff isn't obsessed with his beard and Hicstrid's relationship etc. We've seen these characters be funny in several situations in rtte. They have the chemistry to make funnier, more diverse jokes

Instead of making the conflict that Hiccup and the gang just straight up don't know how to work together (because we've seen in both the movies and the shows that by now, they absolutely know how to work together) I would make it them trying to balance their new positions in the tribe and how they were struggling to work together in the light of the fact that they are newly all at the head of the tribe, and this a new kind of responsibility

Maybe they're all overwhelmed enough that they aren't focused so much on working as a team but on convincing Hiccup that their ideas are the right way to tackle the Grimmel situation altogether, which causes more problems in the long run until they reach the end and start doing their jobs and working together like the well-oiled machine they are

I feel like that would make the 'you guys are the best i've got' line more impactful. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE that part, but that is heavily influenced by the fact that I actually like the characters and have seen them actually being friends and being competent in the shows. (and lets be honest, what movie only fans actually like the gang? The movies didn't make them feel like a group of friends or competent characters without the context of the show imo)

But seeing them competent and struggling to work together before finally coming together might make that line hit harder

Toothless would not be so willing to leave Hiccup (his best friend for SIX YEARS) for a female dragon he met six minutes ago

He would want to go to her, he might even go with her to the hidden world after Hiccup gives him the ability to fly on his own, but he would want to return.

the light fury would look cooler

Maybe Grimmel would follow Toothless to the Hidden World and start attacking it. Maybe he captures the light fury. Toothless, panicked comes back, and Hiccup and the gang have to take the fight to Grimmel at the Hidden World. Grimmel dies, but they realize that people will always find the dragons no matter what they do and that they're stronger together

For that to work ^^^ then maybe we have Hiccup beginning to think that they brought this on the dragons and maybe the right thing to do before the final fight at the Hidden World.

You know how we had a fake-out happy ending where it looked like maybe Toothless and the light fury would be able to stay before Grimmel comes? It's like that, but we think Hiccup might be preparing to say goodbye to Toothless

This is really scattered and messy, and I don't know how clear any of this is, but that's what came to mind. I really hope that answers your question! If anyone has anything to add or to say about my critiques I'd love to hear it.

Thank you so much for all of your asks, every time I get one it legitimately makes my day it's just so exciting. Thank you so much <3333

[ask-de-writer]

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC  (Part 54 of ?)  18+ readers only  (sex scenes)

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

or

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 54 of ? (Work in Progress)

by

De Writer

59611 words (story in progress)

© 2022 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on   or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

This story is age restricted to 18

years or older!

Users  of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original  characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the start HERE

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Twilight actually nodded at the outrageous claim that her seal was needed to be sure that she got her tax cut.  “It does, in fact, assure that, true.  However, the primary reason is simpler.  I send my agents to the address to determine whether the siezure or eviction is properly justified.  If it is, besides getting my seal to go ahead, I try to see that the evicted ponies are taken care of.  I do not want to have homeless ponies in Ponyville.”

Ex judge Horsefry snorted, “What do you do if you think it ain't justified?  Leave some poor landlord stuck for mortgage payments or property repairs?”

“They already are, MISTER Horsefry.  That is required to be in EVERY lease or rental contract.  A condition required to collect any rent or payment is that the property be maintained in a condition suitable for the intended use.

“In the past, the Crown investigation has uncovered many instances of evictions of tenants for requesting that REQUIRED repairs or maintainence be made.  That is illegal and those evictions were stopped.”

Horsefry stompped angrily, “That fool bleeding heart way of handling trivial things has cost Sir Snobbin Realty thousands of gold bits!”

It was Princess Luna who smiled like a shark about to bite!  “I am so happy to hear that eviction is such a trivial matter!  Bailiff, would you please serve this formal notice of eviction and property seizure to mister Horsefry?  Princess Twilight's seal is not required as it has both Celestia's and Mine.”

“What!? You got no grounds for seizing my home!”

Princess Luna snorted, “425 reasons, actually.  According to this report, that is how many seizures or evictions you pulled this post dating stunt on.”  She paused to swig some coffee and take a bite from a chocolate croissant with strawberry filling before continuing, “Each one is a count of Criminal Judicial Misconduct.  Those each carry a fine of one hundred golden bits.  Add in your portion of the damages to the Carousel's property and restitution to the assorted dancing mares that you had a direct hand in robbing and you owe just over three fourths of a million golden bits.  Seven hundred sixty five thousand four hundred and forty six golden bits, to be precise.

“According to your tax records, your total value of all assets combined is only fifteen thousand two hundred and seventy four golden bits.  Of course, it is always possible that you lied on your taxes but even if you did, I doubt that you have the necessary funds to pay what you presently owe.  Your house, lands and accounts will be set against your debit.”

“Um, Princess, I had no hand in the destruction of the antiques.  Reverend Tightcollar ordered that.  Anything connected to them should be dropped.  As for the claim that the dancing mares are due any restitution, I deny that.  They got that money by acts of lewdness. Ponyville cannot allow such behavior to be rewarded.”

Twilight lifted a paper and glanced over it before she spoke up.  “I have witness statements that contradict what you have just said. Specifically, the statements of the subverted officers concerning the illegal raid on the Carousel.  They all unanimously agree that you personally told them to not only carry out the raid and arrests, you told them to smash the door pane and the cash register.”

“I was only relaying Reverend Tightcollar's orders.”

Twilight intervened, “I am sorry but we did make clear at the beginning that no such defense will be accepted.  You were a willing part of the chain of command unless you can show us otherwise.”  She returned to her chocolate and strawberry Bismark and warm coffee.

It was Princess Luna who pointed out, “Simply because you disapprove of how another makes their living gives you no right to take away their legally earned or acquired money or goods.  What the dancers do was and is legal.  The taking by force of their earnings under any pretext is theft.  THAT IS ILLEGAL.  The dancer's restitution order stands.”

Twilight's reaching hands found no more of her favorite treats and settled for a vanilla topped twist.  Before biting into it, she stated, “So far, we have been hearing from the big fish.  I want to hear from the bottom of this food chain.  What do the officers have to say for themselves?  They did the actual raids.  We can always get any of the dancers, Pinkie Pie, Rarity or Kin to fill out what they tell us.”

Celestia snorted into her coffee!  “We need to get Pinkie here anyway! Those butterscotch treats seem to have evaporated!”

Luna, putting away her Magic Net mirror, chuckled, “Taken care of, Sister!  She was at the Carousel with a friend helping out on the costumes.  She is now hard at work replacing all of our snacks!  I told her to bring Kin with her when she makes the delivery.”

Rarity, Kin and Minty were hard at work, getting the new costumes made. Pinkie put away her Magic Net mirror and bailed for the kitchen!

“Kin! They just called from the trials!  We need to make up more snacks! All three Royals and Judge Coldheart are out of favorite snacks and are reduced to drinking dime store tea bag brew!”

Kin yielded her place at the new sewing machine and joined Pinkie in the kitchen!  She snickered, “Dime store tea bag brew?  I did not realize that anyone hated the Princesses that much!  Are they trying to assassinate them all?”

Pinkie looked up from stirring up bowls of fillings and toppings to agree, “It sure sounds like it, doesn't it?”

Soon the whole Carousel was filled with the lovely smell of deep frying goodies!  As fast as Kin could get them cooked and drained, Pinkie was shooting them full of all sorts of sweet fillings!  Rarity, having temporarily abandoned the costumes, was dipping them in toppings and Minty was boxing them up, being sure to label them according to which Princess preferred what kinds.

As Pinkie and Kin loaded the delivery cart, including three huge urns, one of regular coffee, one of hot chocolate, and one of Rom black tea, Rarity and Minty looked each other in the eye, and nodded silent agreement.  They began to cook up more goodies for themselves!

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

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[sonatanotwo]

Okay. I rattle on a lot about ages... so figure I might drop my brain thinkings into a post so if anyone is curious how I arrive at my estimates... well... here you go. Hang onto your hats... I’m about to drop a LOT of info. XDDD

Okay. I rattle on a lot about ages... so figure I might drop my brain thinkings into a post so if anyone is curious how I arrive at my estimates... well... here you go. Hang onto your hats... I’m about to drop a LOT of info. XDDD

There’s a few things to establish first... some facts and things I’m gonna assume based on how things are presented.

The series starts in 2060 (as quoted by Virgil in Ring of Fire)

If Alan is graduating now, he’s probably 18 (as I mentioned in reply to blanket-fish and few others ^^) and usually that’d be June-ish in NA school systems... and since we’re dealing with american characters and largely american writers, including the head writer... I’m goin’ with that!... SO... current eps would be around then.

Also gonna assume Scott is about 10 years older than Alan. (Some old TAG magazine that I hold to a grain of salt said 9 years... but I mean. 10 is nicer and I mean... TECHNICALLY with how their birthdays are... you could say actually they’re 9 years and lil’ over 11 months apart. SO, then that would make it 9 years technically if you really wanna round down. lol BUT yeah, I’m goin’ with 10.)

So first let’s talk about spacing. Generally when I age the boys I try to give them at LEAST 18 months between them... which is really the amount of time one should give themselves between pregnancies at the very least. That’s easy for most of them... only John and Gordon come in a bit under that, but we’ll get back to that.

SO... I wanna go with, as of current eps, Scott is 28.

That’d make him born April 4th, 2035. (I think that’s right anyways.) Then we can make Virgil August 15th, 2037. (Which puts them 2 years and several months between.) John then October 8th, 2039, also over 2 years apart from Virgil... perf. THEN.. Gordon.

Gordon is the 14th of February. Now to make him 2041 that would mean their Mom had Gordon a lot sooner... like VERY lot sooner than like... the recommended time off after John. They’re such troublemakers those two. XDDD (THEY are, in fact, the reason TOS Virgil and John were switched. The company (that owned TOS at the time) wanted to make a “style guide” and  wanted the birthdates to match one info with a tighter age spread with John 22 and Gordon 21... which meant Gordon would be born 4 months after John. Which would be a WEE BIT IMPOSSIBLE. In the end they decided to switch John and Virg and tweak things to fit... that’s the tl;dr version of the story, but yeah!) SO yeah, the better choice might be to shove him another year to 2042, which then leaves plenty of time and is better for their Mom.

OKAY. SO. In current time then...

Scott is 28, Virgil 25 (26 in like less than 2 months), John 23 (24 in less than 4 months), Gordon then could be 21 (or 22 but ehhh) and Alan 18.

Then as for some of the other cast... Kayo is kinda hard to place these days, though I feel like given how she interacts with the older boys she is definitely a little on the older scale... but IDK where exactly. In TOS Tin-Tin was 22 and birthday June 20th, but that was to be close to Alan.

Penelope has come up... especially that line in RoF about her looking into things for Jeff. Don’t forget her looking into things is her and Parker looking into things. He’d be most likely one digging into stuff for her. XDa But yeah hrm... 17-18 then making her 25-26 now doesn’t sound so bad? lol 26 was actually her listed age in TOS. (Her birthday being Christmas Eve.) Once you get into your 20s and onwards a few years between people becomes nothing in regards to her and Gordon. ^^b And yeah. IDK. Late teen for sleuthing doesn’t bother me, but then I’ve grown up reading the likes of Nancy Drew and such, soooo... XDa Even being 16 isn’t tooooooooooo far fetched imho, but yeah. That line didn’t age well. lol Oops.

Grandma is a big \O_o/ And Jeff’s January 2nd birthday and was 56... I’d guess something similar in TAG, less perhaps a few years. ^^b That works fine for the boys. (Mid-late 20s then when Scott was born.)

And Brains... November 14th, for the record and in TOS he was 25, but I really do believe he’s much older in TAG. Well into his 30s even, since he’s been to university and worked for Fischler awhile after... then Jeff happened. Brains likely woulda been late teen or early 20s then? Then the TV-21 was built and sank... Scott was ‘just a kid’ when that happened. So like... 28... minus 8 years, minus maybe another 5-6? to make Scott 15-14... so near Alan’s ‘just a kid’ type age? But coulda been even bit younger. Plus then add a year or two working for Jeff and making the TV-21 and everything... Then if say he was least 18 when came to work for Jeff... Def talking in the realm of mid-30s. SO. That is my guess. lol (And so why I tend to think of Brains being like... older surrogate brother or uncle to the boys... cause he woulda met them all when they were decidedly kids.)

SO YEAH. These are my brain thinkings. I feel like I’m forgetting something, but I am le-tired. Be interesting to see if we get any more clues from the last ep or if Rob spills some data on twitter, which he has suggested he might least in regards to Jeff... so we shall see. XDa

OH lastly... for any of my fellow visual folk here’s my lil’ helpful chart that shows how I figured out time between birthdates of the older boys. (Remember you need 9ish (very much ISH) months for being pregnant. Then they recommend 18 months between being pregnant... yes Virg and John are a titch under that, but least not by TOO too much.)

[jjpmoans]

Fixing it | pjy ft mkt

w.c : 3k+

a/n : This fic was written last year on the same date, when I was busy studying for my finals. I didn't get to finish it and was only able to finish it months after that. So I kept it in my draft for this year's birthday instead. Happy Birthday to the first person I met on Tumblr, the person who helps me to who I am on Tumblr now. I wish that you'll live long and you'll live happily. A lot of things happen but you're still in a special place in my heart. Happy belated birthday @prettywordsyouleft . I hope you like it, though i don't know if it is good or not!

You pull over your car in front of a workshop, grumbling as you calculate the amount of money that will be robbed by the mechanic once they see your car. You are not familiar with car workshops simply because it's not your field of expertise. Usually, the men in the household will take care of the cars while you take care of simpler things like yelling you are hungry and make food for yourself.

But your car wasn't being cooperative for days now, making loud sounds whenever you were driving. Your last straw was your air conditioning somehow became affected by the whole thing and now you have two things to complain about.

So you awkwardly stop in front of a garage which you had never stepped into before. Not that it is special, like you said, you had never directly negotiated with any of them. The only thing you had ever done was take the car when they're ready. This is a new thing for you and to talk with men with oil or dirt all over their faces is nerve wrecking.

Timidly, you step inside the garage, music greets you by blasting loudly against your eardrum. The garage smells like the mixture of grease, tires and also sweats. More specifically, boys sweat. It does not help when some random machine suddenly blows noises out of nowhere and it adds to the chaos you are dealing with. God you are starting to get headaches.

You jump when you accidentally kick a leg which is on the floor and you realize that there is a person underneath the car when he rolls out smoothly from under the car and groans. "You little piece of fucker- oh!" he stops when he sees that you are standing there with wide eyes and a scared face. 

"Sorry, I thought it was my co-worker." he apologizes, before he sits up on his creeper and crane his neck to shout, "Customers! Someone who is not a fucker and sits inside the office all day, come tend your customer before I slice your balls."

You nod, cringing at his colorful vocabulary while you stand there awkwardly, waiting for someone to help you. The mechanic lays down, looking at you apologetically, "Sorry but someone will help you. I need to fix this quickly before the owner comes."

Then you both hear footsteps and whip your heads. Another mechanic is coming towards your direction. He throws the spanner into the toolbox, wiping his hand with a cloth and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah get back to your work Jaebum." he falls into step in front of you, casually kicking Jaebum's creeper and pushing him back under the car. "And stop cursing in front of customers." You can hear Jaebum spilling another set of profanities again and you hold yourself from laughing at his immediate reaction.

"Okay so miss?" the mechanic claps his hand and brings you back to reality. "I'm Jinyoung and what is wrong with your car?"

You blink, suddenly have the inability to speak because wow, he looks good up close. His hair is so fluffy and very healthy for someone who works under the car everyday. His body is lean and god, are that arms? Oh god they look really buffed and toned. Is this how mechanics look like? Why didn't you discover this fact earlier? 

You heard a long sigh, automatically your head snaps just when you are about to praise other things, you watch him take a long breath and clamp his lips.

"Girls. Of course they don't know what's wrong with their car." he grumbles under his breath and you snap back at his word.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Bring me to your car, I'll check it for you." his eyes search for your car and when he spots it, he marches to your baby with you running behind him.

"Hello? I know what is wrong with my car!" you shout while trailing behind him. Stopping just in front of your car, Jinyoung raises his hand to his waist and stares at you.

"Well?" He crosses his arms. "Explain."

You take in a deep shaky breath because your level of annoyance skyrockets after this awfully rude Jinyoung man tries to say that you're ignorant towards your car.

"Well, it makes sounds. But definitely not the engine. It doesn't make a loud sound, but it halts a few times when I stop at the red light." You explain smoothly, the proud feeling when you manage to make him shut up and listen to you is making a concert inside your heart. "Also, it starts to affect the air-cond."

He nods, walking towards your door to inspect. As a reflex, you drop the key in his hand and he unlocked your car, starting the car. Your car roars to life, you anticipate the moment it changes the momentum and starts to halt.

But it doesn't. 

You wait for about two minutes and still nothing comes up. No halt nor loud sound. Jinyoung, one hand on the door and another on the door frame, raises his eyebrows in question. 

You stand there, feeling betrayed. It has been days and the car never stopped making those noises but suddenly when you decided to stop by the garage, it suddenly stopped making noises?

Impossible.

"What's up?" Another mechanic shows up, walking toward your direction.

"Well this miss said that the car has been producing loud noises but when we test it, there is none."

"This miss has a name." You bark. Jinyoung ignores you, gesturing to the other mechanic to come closer.

He presses the accelerator pedal and the car roars in no time. Still, there isn't any noise. 

"I swear it makes sounds!" you claim when Jinyoung and the others throw you side-eyes. "Maybe she's just afraid of you guys." you reason.

That is completely nonsense and you know better but you don't know how to defend yourself from two gorgeous guys who are currently giving you cynical looks.

The other mechanic bursts into laughter and Jinyoung follows him right after. Well, it seems like they love your humor but that does not mean they will drop the joke. 

"I think she's shy with us. Maybe she is more comfortable with girls." Jinyoung laughs. How dare him to mock you! If only you can pull out his teeth. "Should we change into bikinis and skirts Mark?"

God, why are boys so irritating!?? The car is still roaring behind them and sounds nothing like a problem and now you think you started to hate your car. How can she make you look like an idiot?

They both laugh again and not until the Mark guy tries to stop himself from collapsing. "You bet Jaebum will beat our asses for wearing skirts."

Jinyoung gives you a quick look and realises that you are not fazed with their humor, given your straight face. He lets out a snort, handsomely even snorts are supposed to be embarrassing, before talking to you. "Please, I'm sorry for laughing. But it was really funny. Imagine ME in a skirt!" 

"You bet." Jinyoung bursts into laughter again watching your anger rising. His eyes crinkle and his lips are widely stretched, maybe he's not that bad. He's handsome but he's a pain in the ass.

A handsome pain in your ass.

Just when you about to retort whatever thing Jinyoung just mocked you, you hear a faint snap coming from the car. Mark apparently notices something is wrong and taps Jinyoung before both of them land their eyes on the car dashboard display. 

"Temperature is increasing in Jinyoung." You do not understand anything but you are sure that means things are not good. Both of them watch the display again and while Jinyoung gets in the driver seat.

"Now miss. That is your car problem." In a blink of an eye, Jinyoung is already driving the car into the garage, leaving you and Mark behind.

"Come on. You need to sit down." Mark says, walking you back to the garage. "You are going to hurt your feet."

"Is this your first time coming to a workshop?" he asks. Unlike Jinyoung who made rude remarks at the first of your meeting, Mark is sweet and all smiles, making you feel at ease.

"Am I too obvious?"

Mark laughs, nodding along. "Well you are. It is not common for people to say 'maybe she's afraid of you guys' when their car doesn't seem broken like they think. Most people are really confident that their car does have a problem."

You can feel your cheeks redden at his words. Of course you panicked. It was not making any sense. You have suffered for days from the noises and it just disappeared when Jinyoung and Mark checked on your car. Now you think that maybe your car has a thing for handsome guys.

She's not wrong and her choice is really good. Mark, Jinyoung and Jaebum are stunning. Mark being the most stunning of all, you've concluded that. While Jinyoung is a pain in the ass and Jaebum is hot but full of curses.

You seat yourself at the side, watching the guys start to operate your bonnet. Though it is not that comfy considering there are a lot of sport rims and all sort of fluid behind you. Admittedly, you never like garages because it tends to get messy with oil and all but these boys are clean from them.

Maybe that is why they have a lot of customers. The huge garage alone shows that their business is good.

"So." Jinyoung's voice makes you jump in your seat. God, why is he like this? "Oh, did I scare you?"

"Well, obviously." you mutter. Jinyoung grins, showing his perfect white teeth. "Can you, i don't know, be more gentle when you try to talk?"

"Not my fault that you're daydreaming."

You groan at his reply. Damn, you should not expect anything from him. "You're so annoying. What is it?" The more you let him annoy you, the more victorious he will feel.

"Your car fan broke down." he explains. "And we need to change that. Basically, the motor won't move. When the motor doesn't move then the fan will not move. If it does not move, are you listening to me?"

You snap your attention from Mark who is walking behind Jinyoung, bringing some equipment for Jaebum. Narrowing your eyes, you mentally scold Jinyoung for taking away your attention from an ethereal man who looks too handsome to become a mechanic. He should be a model. Or he can work as your boyfriend. You wouldn't mind. 

Jinyoung sighs, tired with your lack of attention. Your eyes focus on him again, muttering an innocent, "I'm sorry, what?"

"No, you're not sorry," he says. You roll your eyes. "And I am saying that you need to change your fan and it costs around 280 dollar."

You mentally calculate it and figure that it will be quite a price. Sucking your breath, you ask him a question as to confirm your decision. 

"Will it be broken again?"

"What?"

"The fan." you say. "If I change it, will it break again?" You need this piece of information. Or will it be a waste of your money to fix this one and another keep breaking again? You know your trip to Garage Seven will be worth the time but money? You wince at the thought.

Jinyoung stares at you confusedly and begins laughing for no reason. In the span of fifteen minutes, you have been making Jinyoung either mocking or laughing at you. What are you? A clown?

"What? Why are you laughing?" you ask. "Hey don't laugh, I am serious!" you try to sound stern but fail miserably when Jinyoung hiccups from laughing too much.

"Sweetheart." your heart jumps at the endearment but still annoyed at his laugh. "Your question is basically like asking a doctor will the cancer still be there when you go through chemotherapy."

He still giggles but much more controlled than before. "Of course I don't know that. For now, the fan isn't working so that is the main problem. You need to monitor your car and check it daily. If there's no other problem then it will not be broken again."

"So it won't break again then." You conclude. "I'll change it then." Jinyoung shakes his head, crouching to your level, one knee almost touching the floor and another supporting his arm. 

"Why? You want it to break again so you can come to this garage to meet me?" The corner of his lips curve upward. God, you really want to wipe the smirk off his face. He looks completely dangerous and you are not prepared to fall for him. 

He grins, winking before getting up on his feet again, heading for your car, joining Mark in the process.

"The princess says it's okay to change it." He says loudly, you contemplate throwing the nearest screwdriver at him. 

You watch them operating your car, both of them fall into work in silence, standing side by side while one works on removing the fan, another one passing all the equipment. Their dynamic is really good, no wonder they attract many customers. 

Handsome face, wicked smile, dynamic teamwork. What else?

"Here." A bottle of mineral water appears, you look up to see angel Mark smiling widely at you again. What did you do in the past week to have an angel smiling at you like this? 

"Drink it." He says as you take the bottle politely and uncap it. "You need to drink in while waiting. It's not going to be long."

He points to Jinyoung, who is working hard to replace the fan. A few strands of hair fall to his forehead, beads of sweats covering his face. "Jinyoung is an ace at repairing. He repairs a lot. Cars, motors, bicycles, machines. Name whatever you want. He's really good at fixing."

"Let me see. Hm. People's hearts?" you shoot down a question. Realising that it might come off awkward, your eyes widen and you frantically raise your hand to correct it. "Oh god- I mean-"

To your surprise, Mark bursts out laughing, eyes crinkling and lips curve upward. His laugh, though you have heard it before, sounds like heaven. Suddenly there is this light behind him and he looks like an angel from heaven. God, how come your creation is too perfect?

"I can fix people's hearts too." comes Jinyoung, cutting off your moment. Why!? 

"Why? Is your heart broken?" he wipes his hand on the towel, squatting down to your level and looking up to you. "Who is that guy who breaks your heart?"

Mark looks at you curiously. You are stunned, not knowing what to say. Breaking is an understatement. Men have caused permanent damage to you until you don't think you are looking for love anymore. You will just settle for your life at the moment. But right now two men are staring at you curiously and you want anything to break your heart and ask any of them to fix it.

Damn you're so dramatic.

"It was an old story. Shouldn't be talking about that anymore." 

Your answer throws them into silence, both nodding and getting back to work on your car. Not that you don't want to share, however opening a closed wound will only make it worse. Also, your memory of that case is a blur because you opted it's the best to let go instead of hanging on to the pain.

"Ohhh pretty customer!" Another mechanic passes by you and you look up to see him in a beanie, a huge steel necklace hangs around his neck. With soft stubbles on his face, he smiles cheerfully at you.

"Ah! Welcome to Garage 7 miss!" He chirps. Different from them three, this one is a little bit exciting about everything. He doesn't have to jump for you to see through his eyes that he is an over excited one. "My name is Jackson but you can call me yours."

Everything happens so fast that you can register. You blink, followed by the two mechanics earlier, Jinyoung and Mark. Both of them stop in track, staring at Jackson incredulously. Funny that you feel the urge to laugh after watching Jinyoung and Mark are about to throw the pliers in their hand and Jackson who's hand is extending out for you to shake.

You burst into laughter, taking Jackson's hand to shake him. "Call you mine? No thanks. I'll call you Jackson."

Jackson shakes your hand again, slowly becoming too long for a hand shake. Your hand is already aching and you're one second away to pull your hand.

"Drop your handshake Jackson." Comes Jinyoung's warning, chilly and almost sends you into a panic. "Don't touch what's mine."

"I'm not yours." You retort. He cannot take away a good opportunity from you.

Jackson grins, dropping your hands altogether. "Oooofff I feel something burning." he jokes.

"You're dangerous miss. It's the first time both Jinyoung and Mark look like they're going to murder me at the same time. Usually only one of them."

Chuckling, he leaves you, walking over to kick Jaebum's leg, earning a handful of curses. You turn to ask about what Jackson says, only to be greeted by no one.

About ten minutes, Mark comes with your car key and your receipt, holding them to you. "I think it's okay now." He offers a smile, exchanging the paper between you. "Sorry for Jackson's and Jinyoung's behaviour just now."

You look down to read the receipt, your eyes falling to the scribble at the bottom of the paper.  Heat starts to warm you, your cheeks tints when you meet his eyes again. 

"I'll walk you to-"

"Mark!" Jaebum shouts from the office. Mark whips his head so fast that you are afraid that he'll snap it, turning back apologetically. 

"Sorry. Jaebum needs me. I guess, we'll meet again?" 

You nod, watching him walking backward toward the office. His smile, his eyes crinkling and his hair falling on his forehead makes it ethereal for you to believe that is actually happening.

'Call me!' He mouths, before getting inside the office. 

Still in state of shock and giddy, you enter your car, reversing her out of the garage. As you change your gear to drive, a hand knocks on your window.

You lower the window, your sight being greeted by the upper body of a man. Slowly, he lowers his head, hands on the door frame, supporting his weight.

Jinyoung's eyes meet yours, soft and excited. He exhales his breath quite hard, showing that he runs to catch you before you leave. 

"What's wrong?" Comes your question.

"Give me your phone." He asks. You look at him, trying to decipher what he means. "Your phone." He directs his eyes to your phone sitting on the passenger seat.

"Why should I give you my phone?" You ask, nonetheless giving him your phone. You absolutely have no idea why he asked for your phone.

He presses the keypad on the dial, pressing the green button before you can even stop him. "Hey!!! Who are you calling!!!???" He put it on your ear, waiting for it to connect.

Right then, a distant ringtone echoes from his back. He fishes his back pocket with his hand, bringing it to his ear. 

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Lord. You're damned.

Copyright © 2020 jjpmoans. All rights reserved

[ Writings ]

[theoutcastrogue]

Alignment in D&D

[by Jonathan Tweet, via EnWorld, June 2020. Jonathan Tweet is a game designer who has worked in D&D 3rd Edition, Ars Magica, 13th Age and others.]

Alignment is, on some level, the beating heart of Dungeons & Dragons. On the other hand, it’s sort of a stupid rule. It’s like the hit point rules in that it makes for a good game experience, especially if you don’t think about it too hard. Just as Magic: the Gathering has the five colors that transcend any world or story, so alignment is a universal cosmic truth from one D&D world to the next. The deities themselves obey the pattern of alignment.

On the story side, the alignment rules contain the rudiments of roleplaying, as in portraying your character according to their personality. On the game side, it conforms to D&D’s wargaming roots, representing army lists showing who is on whose side against whom.

The 3x3 alignment grid is one part of AD&D’s legacy that we enthusiastically ported into 3E and that lives on proudly in 5E and in countless memes. Despite the centrality of alignment in D&D, other RPGs rarely copy D&D’s alignment rules, certainly not the way they have copied D&D’s rules for abilities, attack rolls, or hit points. 

Alignment started as army lists in the Chainmail miniatures rules, before Dungeons & Dragons released. In those days, if you wanted to set up historical Napoleonic battles, you could look up armies in the history books to see what forces might be in play. But what about fantasy armies? Influenced by the popularity of The Lord of the Rings, Gary Gygax’s rules for medieval miniatures wargaming included a fantasy supplement. Here, to help you build opposing armies, was the list of Lawful units (good), the Chaotic units (evil), and the neutral units. Today, alignment is a roleplaying prompt for getting into character, but it started out as us-versus-them—who are the good guys and who are the bad guys?

Original D&D used the Law/Chaos binary from Chainmail, and the Greyhawk supplement had rudimentary notes about playing chaotic characters. The “referee” was urged to develop an ad hoc rule against chaotic characters cooperating indefinitely. This consideration shows how alignment started as a practical system for lining up who was on whose side but then started shifting toward being a concrete way to think about acting “in character.”

Another thing that Greyhawk said was that evil creatures (those of chaotic alignment) were as likely to turn on each other as attack a lawful party. What does a 12-year old do with that information? One DM applies the rule literally in the first encounter of his new campaign. When we fought our first group of orcs in the forest outside of town, The DM rolled randomly for each one to see whether it would attack us or its fellow orcs. That rule got applied for that first battle and none others because it was obviously stupid. In the DM’s defense, alignment was a new idea at the time.

Law versus Chaos maps pretty nicely with the familiar Good versus Evil dichotomy, albeit with perhaps a more fantastic or apocalyptic tone. The Holmes Basic Set I started on, however, had a 2x2 alignment system with a fifth alignment, neutral, in the center. For my 12-year old mind, “lawful good” and “chaotic evil” made sense, and maybe “chaotic good,” but “lawful evil”? What did that even mean? I looked up “lawful,” but that didn’t help. 

Our first characters were neutral because we were confused and “neutral” was the null choice. Soon, I convinced my group that we should all be lawful evil. That way we could kill everything we encountered and get the most experience points (evil) but we wouldn’t be compelled to sometimes attack each other (as chaotic evil characters would).

In general, chaotic good has been the most popular alignment since probably as soon as it was invented. The CG hero has a good heart and a free spirit. Following rules is in some sense bowing to an authority, even if it is a moral or internalized authority, and being “chaotic” means being unbowed and unyoked.

Chaotic neutral has also been popular. Players have sometimes used this alignment as an excuse to take actions that messed with the party’s plans and, not coincidentally, brought attention to the player. The character was in the party because the player was at the table, but real adventurers would never go into danger with a known wildcard along with them. This style of CG play was a face-to-face version of griefing, and it was common enough that Ryan Dancey suggested we ban it from 3E.

The target we had for 3E was to make a game that doubled-down on its own roots, so we embraced AD&D’s 3x3 alignment grid. Where the Holmes Basic Set listed a handful of monsters on its diagram, 3E had something more like Chainmail’s army lists, listing races, classes, and monsters on a 3x3 table.

When I was working on 3E, I was consciously working on a game for an audience that was not me. Our job was to appeal to the game’s future audience. With the alignment descriptions, however, I indulged in my personal taste for irony. The text explains why lawful good is “the best alignment you can be.” In fact, each good or neutral alignment is described as “the best,” with clear reasons given for each one. Likewise, each evil alignment is “the most dangerous,” again with a different reason for each one. This treatment was sort of a nod to the interminable debates over alignment, but the practical purpose was to make each good and neutral alignment appealing in some way.

If you ever wanted evidence that 4E wasn’t made with the demands of the fans first and foremost, recall that the game took “chaotic good” out of the rules. CG is the most popular alignment, describing a character who’s virtuous and free. The alignments in 4E were lawful good, good, neutral, evil, and chaotic evil. One on level, it made sense to eliminate odd-ball alignments that don’t make sense to newcomers, such as the “lawful evil” combination that flummoxed me when I was 12. The simpler system in 4E mapped fairly well to the Holmes Basic 2x2 grid, with two good alignments and two evil ones. In theory, it might be the best alignment system in any edition of D&D. On another level, however, the players didn’t want this change, and the Internet memes certainly didn’t want it. If it was perhaps better in theory, it was unpopular in practice.

In 5E, the alignments get a smooth, clear, spare treatment. The designers’ ability to pare down the description to the essentials demonstrates a real command of the material. This treatment of alignment is so good that I wish I’d written it.

My own games never have alignment, per se, even if the game world includes real good and evil. In Ars Magica, membership in a house is what shapes a wizard’s behavior or social position. In Over the Edge and Everway, a character’s “guiding star” is something related to the character and invented by the player, not a universal moral system. In Omega World, the only morality is survival. 13th Age, on the other hand, uses the standard system, albeit lightly. The game is a love letter to D&D, and players have come to love the alignment system, so Rob Heinsoo and I kept it. Still, a 13th Age character’s main “alignment” is in relation to the icons, which are not an abstraction but rather specific, campaign-defining NPCs. 

~ Jonathan Tweet [source]. Jonathan Tweet is a game designer who has worked in D&D 3rd Edition, Ars Magica, 13th Age and others.

From DDB's stats, 2019​

[yourcreepyneighborhoodelftwink]

As the Hero fell upwards through the sands of time, the days rewinding like the gears of a clock, he landed calmly on the cobblestones of Clock Town Square, at the dawn of the first day. He had been through this many times before, and had grown accustomed to reliving the same 3 days, helping the same people with the same schedules, slowly making more and more progress each time. At least he didn't feel an enormous time crunch, even with the threat of the moon hanging above him, he was always able to rewind the days, and could take days to rest, to sleep or ride Epona or play with the inhabitants.

He rarely did, but it was nice that the option was there.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Tatl getting his attention with a soft tinkling sound, looking over at the stand near the Deku flower, and the note pinned to it.

"That's certainly new…" she said cautiously as they approached, Tatl reading aloud to Link.

The pair exchanged a confused and frightened look. It wasn't signed, but they knew exactly who left the note for them.

BEN sat on the edge of the field, their boots hanging over the barrier where the grass turned into sand, looking out at the canyon leading to the beach. It had been so long since they had entered their game, only playing it from the outside. Perhaps they had been showing too much love to Breath of the Wild lately and not enough to the dark masterpiece of their former prison, or perhaps it was the only world they could enter that felt truly real, where the sun was warm and the wind blew. They HAD become a bit spoiled, learning that adding weather effects and random wind blowing did wonders to immersion when they entered a game.

They closed their eyes, speaking up before looking behind them.

"You didn't have to rush over here. "as possible" doesn't mean "instantly", you know…" BEN said gently, lowering their ears with a guilty smile.

Link frowned softly, keeping his distance from the elf. He couldn't draw his sword AND sign, after all, so he would have to make due. "You didn't specify. I've learned better than to provoke you."

BEN couldn't exactly blame his caution. It's why they were here, after all. "My bad. I'll be more specific next time. But I suppose it's neither here nor there now…"

"...is there something you want, BEN? " Link asked, clearly a bit anxious by being asked to meet.

"...a few things. I won't lie and say there isn't a favor I'd like to ask the both of you-"

"Like you have any right to ask Link for anything, at this point!" Tatl quickly interjected, turning red in anger. "You've terrorized us for no good reason, revealed truths we didn't need to know, and then just left us alone one day!"

"-BUT," BEN continued, "that isn't my main reason for being here. First and foremost... You're long overdue for an apology from me."

Link and Tatl looked at each other in confusion. "...pardon? " Link questioned.

"...I've been doing a lot of thinking and self reflecting lately. Especially because I finally have reason to want to improve myself. And I think I've gotten pretty far in trying to right the wrongs of my past, and try to change as a person. But I still never gave the both of you a proper apology, or even an explanation for how I treated you…" BEN sheepishly said.

Link looked down at the seated person, absolutely dumbfounded. All the times he had been attacked by BEN came instantly into his mind, only to not even be able to so much as scratch them in return, even the might of a Goron doing nothing to them. All the times he had been followed and told he was insignificant, worthless, a joke of a hero, told he was nothing more than a bland, boring conduit for the player of a game in a world far grander than his own. Only for BEN to just... Disappear one day. Gone. Vanish into thin air, and only return occasionally, seemingly at their leisure. Something... Didn't add up to him, and he wasn't sure what on Earth made them suddenly stop tormenting him, and now want to make things right.

"...I'll hear you out, at least," Link finally said, stepping forward to sit next to him. If nothing else, were he going to harm Link, BEN would have done it by now.

"Not that it makes us all hunky-dory yet," Tatl offered, settling on Link's shoulder.

BEN smiled softly, letting out a relieved breath. They stayed quiet for a moment, deciding their words carefully. "I'm not... Sure where to start. So much has happened to me. I guess I should start when we first met. When I first entered this game. It was my favorite game, and with me when I died," they started.

Tatl interrupted, jingling softly. "...when you died?"

BEN nodded softly. "When I died. I was just about your age, Link, about 12. More specifically, when I was murdered. Father simply... Got tired of me, I suppose. He tricked my religion's leader- we refer to him as The Father- into thinking it was my time to Ascend when it wasn't. The whole explanation of my belief system isn't important in this, just that I was robbed of something very important and sacred to me because of it."

"That sounds horrible," Link signed.

"It was... And I was only 12, and not the greatest at understanding or expressing my emotions... I was so angry, absolutely furious at losing that chance, as what had been done to me. I've always had a strong sense of justice, if you can believe it. I don't easily stand for people wronging me. But when I died, my spirit was trapped in this game. All that rage bottled up, with nowhere to release it... Until I started releasing it on you. Very unfairly."

"I'll say," Tatl said, though there wasn't much bite behind her words.

"Eventually, someone played the game, and I was able to break free, find someone else to torment. And after that, start lashing out at everyone who had hurt me, making them

PĄŸ,"

BEN continued, their voice glitching out just a bit at the final word.

"...i moved on to more innocent people after that. I was out of control. To the point where my goddess, Luna, intervened. She stopped me herself, gave me a new body, made me into a young adult so I wouldn't be trapped as a child forever, and I carry the souls of everyone I hurt in my blind sadism, until I join her again one day. And I've worked hard to be a better person now. I've found so much to make my life wonderful, and to make the most of my second chance…" BEN trailed off.

"...but you still want to make amends to everyone you've hurt," Link finished for them.

"...I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't think I can be forgiven. But I really AM sorry for how I treated you. Both of you. Of everyone I've lashed out at, you're the least deserving of it. No matter WHAT'S happened to me, it's NO excuse for how much I've hurt you. And even if you never forgive me, I would love the opportunity to make it up to you…" they finished softly.

"...would you excuse us for a moment?" Tatl asked, flying a slight distance away. Link glanced over at BEN before rising to his feet to follow, and speak with the fairy alone. BEN politely stayed looking forward, allowing them the privacy.

"...do you believe them?" Tatl asked.

"...yeah. They seem genuine," Link admitted.

Tatl nodded softly. "I do, too. There's much simpler ways to trick us or convince us if that was their intention. Even if they said they wanted a favor, this is a lot of lengths to go to for just that…"

"I wonder what they want," the hero mused, glancing over at BEN.

"...maybe ask? Perhaps you can also ask a favor of him, test his sincerity," she said.

"What would that be? " he asked.

"Well, you've said you're curious about his world, whatever it is that our entire world is only a game in, a small part of. Maybe you can ask to explore his world. It'd give you the opportunity to spend more time with him and let him earn your trust, anyway," she offered.

Link nodded softly, then whistled to get BEN's attention. "Alright, BEN, we've talked it over. First, I want to know what favor it is you want…"

"Actually, it's a favor specifically from Tatl," they explained.

"Wait, me?" she questioned.

"...my daughter has watched me play this game a lot. And she's absolutely fallen in LOVE with you, she ADORES seeing you on screen. Her first birthday is in a few months, and there's... Circumstances about my life, and now hers, that will make her very different from other children, with so many secrets to keep. She could really use having a companion by her side, a friend to offer wisdom and company and help when she needs it. A copy of you, like how I copied Epona, to watch over her and make her feel less alone…" BEN said.

"...you have a daughter?" Link asked.

"And a boyfriend. Soon to be husband," BEN explained, holding up their hand to show off their ring.

Tatl let out a soft chime at this. "Well... I'm certainly flattered you think I'd make a good companion to her…"

BEN smiled softly. "I don't expect an answer today, don't worry. There's still a few months before her birthday. And I understand if it's not something you're comfortable with…"

"...we have a proposal for you, in that case," Link began. "You want to make amends to us. We're admittedly curious about this world outside of our own. So, let us explore. Show us your life, and what lies outside this "game", and earn our trust. Then we'll consider it."

BEN thought this over. They'd have to be careful, but this wasn't impossible… "...I can't completely remove you from the game. I'd have to copy you, then merge the copy and your true self after. It's basically the same thing, though, you'd keep the memories and everything. And you'd have to do EXACTLY as I say, I... REALLY can't have attention drawn to myself or the people I live with. If there's something that catches your attention, you can't gawk, just stay calm and ask me. And there's going to be a LOT, the real world is nothing like this one. Hylian sign doesn't match up with any sign language in my world, so you'll at least be able to speak freely. But if you can do that, and trust that I'm keeping us both safe when I tell you to do something... I'll happily show you around."

Link considers this, then nods. He holds out his hand to BEN, who shakes it.

"Then we have a deal."

[mollymauk-teafleak]

sweetheart, you look a little tired

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian for being such lovely betas!

---

Peter Nureyev is in disguise once again, this time at a high end brothel. he has a clear goal, a clear head and voices haunting him from his past.

Until he meets his first client, Juno Steel.

---

Please reblog and let me know what you think in the tags or leave a comment on this fic over at Ao3!

---

Disguises were Peter Nureyev’s specialty. He didn’t like to think what a psychologist would say if they got their hands on that.

But he was something of a genius at them and, like all things he was unbelievably good at, he enjoyed doing it. He’d forged new faces out of wildly expensive materials only found on one planet in the entire known galaxy, he’d made them out of cheap stage paints and shoplifted supermarket make up. He’d spent close to a year making some of his most used, most dependable costumes and some he’d made in the handful of seconds he’d had between a door starting to open and the security guard behind it seeing him somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be.

Nureyev had been counts and cardsharps, he’d been street urchins and fantastically rich multibillionaires, he’d been priests and strippers, he’d been ghosts and shadows and monsters right out of folklore, he’d been someone so painfully normal that you wouldn’t look once, let alone twice. He’d been everything under the sun, apart from himself.

And now he had a rather unusual challenge. Now he had to make a disguise out of absolutely nothing.

The five minute call was coming down the corridor, hollered by an assistant with a clipboard who looked like they’d completely transcended the concept of ‘stressed’ and was now utterly untouchable. As they walked by, they remembered Nureyev was new here and said it again, for his benefit, reminding him that ‘five minutes till showtime’ meant he needed to be dressed and in the bar area by the time the brothel opened.

Nureyev nodded, wearing the face of an anxious young man who was realising he’d maybe bitten off more than he could chew with this job.

It must have worked because the assistant’s expression of self preserving numbness shifted into something like sympathy, “It’s a weeknight, man, no one’s gonna be picking a new face.  Just sit there, look pretty and keep your eyes open.”

The moment of unexpected kindness, from someone who clearly didn’t need to give any amount of their time to comfort someone like him but had anyway, in their own rough manner, Nureyev could remember a time when that would have thrown him. When it would have filled him with guilt at what he was here to do, regret that he’d lied with every breath since he’d arrived, wonder what might happen if he didn't have to have that disconnect between himself and everyone he met.

Nureyev could remember. And he could recognise how far he’d come since then.

The five minute call continued, bellowed further down the hall, bringing a flurry of activity in its wake. Nureyev could hear silk whispering over skin and heels clicking on the floor outside the doorway, giggles traded between his coworkers for the evening who knew each other better, light arguments break out over who’s turn it was to wear a certain sapphire necklace as if such extravagance could be traded and bantered over so playfully. But of course it could, even the tiny dressing room Nureyev had been given as the newest member of the brothel had a chest overflowing with jewels and a closet bursting with silks, any one of which would have kept him fed, clothed and safe for a year when he was a child.

The luxury of this place was staggering in a hundred little ways like that. It was a fine establishment, loudly and proudly touted as the best in Hyperion City. Nureyev had to knit together a sparkling resume at four other, lesser brothels to be even given an interview for the recently opened position. His charm had carried him the rest of the way, as if often did. First rule of thieving, always make sure your greatest asset is something that can’t be taken away from you.

There was a huge bar area downstairs with a stage and, upstairs, fifty rooms, some elaborately and cringe-inducingly themed to your more standard fetishes. Others were simply beautiful spaces for the workers to take their clients, filled with flowers genetically modified to never wilt or curl or lose their scent, soft furnishings with gold accents and dramatic hangings, beaded curtains and diffusers and immense marble bathtubs. And of course beds of every sort, small and soft and intimate or expansive and lush and built for as many partners as you were willing to pay for.

And these clients were willing to pay. Being the best and most lavish brothel, it drew the best and most lavish customers. When a high ranking politician or stream star or oligarch wanted to indulge in some fun away from polite society, though the line was getting increasingly blurred, they came here. They came to The Fly-By Night.

And it stood to reason that the best customers would draw the best thieves.

Nureyev wasn’t here to rob anyone, not outright. If that was his only goal, he would just fill the pockets of the see through robe he wore over shorts that were barely there, he’d stuff them with the jewels and expensive aphrodisiacs left around this place like decorative potpourri and leave by the nearest window. No, he was here for something else. He was here for information. First rule of thieving, the most valuable items are never what is in plain sight.

So Nureyev had no intention at all of going down to the bar area to lounge and look pretty and flirt with the bar patrons who either hadn’t made an appointment or couldn’t afford one but could afford the ridiculous drinks prices. He’d nodded earnestly all through the floor manager’s careful instructions on what to do and how to present himself, letting his facial muscles do the work while knowing all the while that he would be here for a handful of hours, no more. The hard part had been getting through the door, earning the freedom to move through the building that only an employee would be afforded. Sure, posing as a client would have been simpler in execution but Nureyev had never been afraid of over preparing.

First rule of thieving, take the safest route, never just the easiest.

Nureyev set his jaw and finished smudging gold eyeshadow over one eyelid. He wondered when he would stop hearing that voice in his head. He always told himself one more job, one more planet, and the distance would be great enough that it would fade into nothing. Something less than a memory even. He’d forget the face that had ever been attached to that voice, he’d stop feeling the ghostly stickiness on his palms that came with those whispers.

Next time, perhaps.

He left Peter Nureyev in the dressing room and emerged as Freyr Zirconia, a ridiculous name to walk down the street with but perfect to wear as a sex worker in glossy, completely transparent samite. He made his smile a little false around the edges, clearly hiding nervousness, someone who knew their trade but hadn’t quite settled into their environment yet. He chose accessories that were far from the finest on offer, making him look low in the pecking order, hesitant to appear flashy or perhaps he just didn’t know where the good stuff was kept and was too shy to ask. Rather galling to Nureyev, who knew he’d look exquisite in the thick rope of black pearls he’d passed over.

Maybe he would find himself back in the dressing room before his exit, snagging them as a present for himself. Maybe. If he did well.

There was already a pleasant buzz of conversation and soft music audible from halfway down the stairs, all emanating from the bar area. It hadn’t been hard to feign Freyr’s impressed expression when he’d been given his tour of the brothel after his successful interview. The bar was done in a classic style you didn’t see often in the bigger planets further out in the solar system. It was all leather and oak panelling, faux of course because the trees necessary had gone extinct a century ago but the imitation was flawless. The lights were low and richly golden, encased in red coloured glass in some areas so certain booths and alcoves would be awash in a red you could practically taste, giving the impression that whoever sat inside it was in their own little world. And to help them get there, behind the bar was what looked like every alcoholic drink in the known galaxy, wildly expensive wines from Earth, flavoured vodkas from Saturn, heady rums from Jupiter, even liqueurs brewed only on the furthest outer rim planets.

Freyr almost wished he could be part of it. It would be nice to be bought extravagant drinks, to have people fawn over him, to have rich men smile at him and feel like they owned him for an hour. There were things a man who was not Freyr had been neglecting recently, pleasures beyond those that could be found in a brilliantly planned and flawlessly executed job. Simpler pleasures of lips and hands and sweat that wasn’t yours drying on your skin.

But Freyr could wish all he liked. A man who wasn’t Freyr had an elusive mark to locate the personal phone number of.

He’d memorised the floor plan at his interview and confirmed it for himself with some illegally acquired schematics. First rule of thieving, always double check. The administration office was in the basement so the acrid numbers and figures didn’t shatter the fantasy, meaning the easiest way to get to it was to cut across just one corner of the bar. He couldn’t exactly go around the outside of the building, dressed as he was. It was raining, after all.

It wouldn’t take a minute, just a handful of steps. And it wasn’t like he was noticeable, Freyr was just one of several nymph-like visions in samite and jewels and barely there underwear. The Fly By Nights became like celebrities of Hyperion’s underworld, their faces and names well known and often requested, their specific skills practically famous. The older hands had cultivated reputations that filled their schedules for months, sometimes half a year in advance. Someone new and unestablished like Freyr was unlikely to be chosen in the twenty paces it would take to get him to his goal. He almost felt lazy with how easy this would be.

Just in case anyone was watching, he took a moment before he walked into the bar, making sure his robe was lying just right across his chest, patting the seemingly effortless swoop of his dark hair, rubbing in the glitter on his chest to smooth it out better. Freyr would be nervous, eager to make a good impression, hungry to prove himself, a heady mix of emotions that the other man could understand on some level and didn’t need to work too hard to paint over his delicate, expertly made up features. A deep breath. Straighten the spine. Go to work.

Almost immediately Freyr was enveloped in the smells of dozens of different but somehow complimentary perfumes, the rhythmic clink of glasses and pouring drinks, light music played on simple instruments, a rich glow of light and luxury. Even the sharp sweat tang of the hungry clients coming in through the doors couldn’t ruin it. He put a sway in his hips, dropped the lids of his eyes just a little, leaned into it all. Twenty paces, that was all, so why not enjoy them?

There were conversations happening all around him, it was a bundle of coloured threads in a hopeless knot. But the man who wasn’t Freyr simply couldn’t help himself sometimes and began to listen to the snippets he walked through, just out of interest. First rule of thieving, after all, always keep your ears open, you never know when you might hear something that saves you later. It was mostly innocuous parlour talk, too early in the evening after all for tongues to be truly loosened. The workers pressed drinks on their clients, laughed and cooed at their bad attempts at flirting, old friends greeted each other, some light gossip was traded that Freyr already knew and didn’t concern him anyway. Nothing to snag his interest as another part of his mind counted down the steps left.

Until he skirted closer to the bar itself.

There was no reason why the voice should have stood out to him the way it did. It wasn’t even saying anything of interest, just one of many unfamiliar voices that didn’t relate to Freyr’s goal whatsoever, talking of nothing. But this one grabbed him, yanking him off his train of thought, spilling his focus on the floor like so many marbles.

“Yeah, I meant what I said,” the voice was harsh, snappish but it was like a thin crust over something deeper, “The full bottle, I have the creds and I’m damn well thirsty enough.”

It wasn’t hard to find the owner of the voice, there was only one person it could be. He looked as rough and worn down as his voice had sounded, clearly sober but not intending to stay that way with how determinedly he was gripping the edge of the counter, slumped into an aged trench coat shiny with wear and the rain from outside. It was in his hair too, droplets that now looked like diamonds under the bar lights. His jaw was strong and covered in the stubble of someone a good week into a string of bad decisions, his eyes hooded and bloodshot to match. His hands were covered in scars that could only come from the kickback of a blaster. Soldier? Too young. Bodyguard? Too wayn. Cop? Perhaps but whatever he was, he was clearly an ex.

First rule of thieving, observe. Always observe. Unless it’s a pretty boy, in which case, tear your eyes away Pete and focus, god damn it.

Freyr swallowed hard and stopped, sixteen paces in, trying to sink deeper into being someone who didn’t know that voice. That voice, light and joking and jolly but now he could name the undercurrent that he’d always sensed but never pinned down until after. Until after…

He took a breath. Clearly he was not in the right frame of mind. Clearly if he went into that administration office now he would make a foolish mistake. First rule of thieving, timing is everything, yes? So deviate, improvise, circle back around with your head on straight.

And until then, play the game.

“That looks like a two man job,” he reached out and snagged the rather large bottle of high end whiskey the bartender had reluctantly set in front of the tired eyed ex-probably cop.

Freyr could see the decision whether or not to throw a punch cross the guy’s scarred face. Fortunately he came down on the side of non hostile resignation.

“Lady,'' he corrected, not arguing when Freyr reached over the bar and collected two crystal tumblrs, puring each half full with amber liquid that smelled of woodsmoke and expense, “Sorry, you’re gorgeous and all but you’re out of my price range. I’m just here to drink.”

“And drinking is all I spoke of, madam,” Freyr smiled sweetly, holding up his glass expectantly, “But I thank you for the compliment.”

After a pause, his stranger knocked his glass against his own and drank just a swallow. Freyr copied.

“You don’t have to pay to ask my name.”

That got a rough smile, not quite a true one but close, “Then what’s your name, handsome?”

“Freyr. Yours, handsome?”

Now a laugh, amber warm as the liquor they were drinking, “Juno Steel.”

“Pretty name for a pretty face,” that made him laugh again but there were patches of colour on his dark cheeks that didn’t have anything to do with the fine, mellow burn of the whiskey, “Can I ask, Juno Steel, why a lady with no money for a sex worker is sat in a brothel?”

Juno didn’t seem to know how to answer that, doing an awkward kind of one shouldered shrug, “It’s raining outside. The door was open. There’s alcohol.”

A simple formula for someone who didn’t have anywhere else to go. Freyr was good at his job, he knew how to read people and shift his gaze to bring into focus the words behind what they actually said. And Juno Steel wasn’t a hard lady to read. Grief and loneliness etched themselves on a person’s face in a way few other things did, leaving traces that were clear as words on a screen, especially if you were already familiar with them. Especially if you knew them from the mirror.

First rule of thieving, get back on the job, you useless, twitterpated young fool. First rule of thieving, you know better than this.

Behind Freyr’s face, the man who wasn’t Freyr set his jaw. He was sick of that voice. He was sick of still following it’s commands, sitting up to the snap of it’s fingers like a well trained dog. Hadn’t he proven that he didn’t need it? First rule of thieving, he’d do what he damn well pleased.

And right now, what he wanted to do was Juno Steel. He looked like he could use it.

Freyr leaned forward, knowing the light would be making his dark eyes glitter, “And there’s me.”

Juno smiled wryly, not moving back to reopen the distance between them, “Yeah. That part was a nice surprise.”

“Listen, Juno. I don’t need to know why you're here or why you have that brokenhearted look in your eyes you’re doing a rather poor job of concealing. I’d just like to try and do something about it. How does that sound?”

Juno caught his lower lip in his teeth, want flashing in his eyes like a distress signal on a ship lost in deepest space, “I...I don’t…”

“I know,” Freyr leant in a little more, until he couldn’t tell whose breath the smell of whiskey was coming from, “But, I’ll be honest, this is my first day. I have no appointments. So why don’t we call this...a practise run? Ex gratia on both our parts.”

Juno’s eyebrow lifted, “Can you do that?”

“Of course.” What did it matter when Freyr wouldn’t exist in a day’s time?

There was still some hesitation, something still lingering in his expression. Freyr wondered what had happened to this lady the last time someone had reached out to him, promising something for nothing. And then he remembered he didn’t care.

“Why me?” Juno eventually asked, his brow creasing with uncertainty.

Freyr smiled softly, showing where he’d smudged a little lipstick on his front tooth, almost as if it had been deliberately placed there to show his nervousness on his first day.

“Why not you, Juno Steel?”

It was quiet upstairs, too early in the evening for any appointments to have moved past the initial flirting in the bar stage. Freyr had the night’s schedule memorised, he knew which rooms would be free and would stay free for however long this wonderfully bad decision would take, he knew where he was going as he pulled Juno along.

There was a giddy lightness in his chest, a pounding exhilaration going through his veins. Freyr had a lifespan of three days, he’d never had the chance to be a reckless teenager, going against the path that had been laid out for him. The man he wasn’t had never experienced it either, for different reasons. But this is exactly how they’d both imagined it, how it had always looked in the streams and in stories. This was exactly what the fantasy had promised.

Both of them were giggling like they couldn’t help it, throwing wild grins back and forth, drunk on each other and a handful of swallows from the whiskey bottle now swinging in Juno’s lazy grip. By the time they reached one of the more modest rooms where they were minimally likely to be disturbed, Freyr was wearing Juno’s overcoat, Juno had marks of Freyr’s lipstick across his cheek and was gripping his narrow hips, whispering filth into his ear to make him fumble with the keys.

Freyr retaliated by turning and bending to kiss him full on the lips, the first time they’d done that since leaving the warmth of the bar for this new, uncharted dimness. Juno was shorter than he’d expected, he had to guide his jaw up a little after a moment to press their mouths together more fully. But it was a sweet kiss, all the same. Juno seemed to think so too, from how he shakily exhaled into Freyr’s mouth in a way that sounded almost relieved.

Once inside, Freyr didn’t need to do much to undress himself, letting the coat still heavy with rain and warm from Juno’s skin fall to the floor. His partner proved a little more hesitant, hands shaking as they went to the hem of his turtleneck. If Freyr had thought the tremors were anything but the aftershocks of something in the past, he would have called time then and there. But as it was, he took Juno’s large, scarred hands under his own and guided them, supporting them as the layer of damp wool and black trousers came away, showing dark hair, dark skin, more scars.

Freyr was new to The Fly By Night but he’d been in this trade a while. He knew how to make the right noises and pull the right faces, he knew how to give the clients what they paid for, no matter what was under their clothes. If there had been anything about Juno that disappointed, it wouldn’t have shown on his face.

But there was nothing to be done about the awe that softened his features when he saw all of Juno, wearing only the soft light from the window. There was no way to mask the quiet inhalation, the way his pupils flooded open, the way his hips tilted unconsciously forward. Showing too much was as dangerous as showing not enough and, in that moment, all of Freyr’s professionalism went out of the window.

But Juno didn’t seem to know any better, only blushing and giving a destroying self conscious smile. Perhaps it wasn’t just Freyr who was new to this.

“Can we just…” Juno gestured to the bed, a luxurious affair with black sheets that looked soft as butter and ready to sink into completely.

Freyr smiled indulgently and nodded, “Go make yourself comfortable, handsome.”

He told himself he didn’t care why Juno would find it so difficult to hear the words about to fall from his tongue. First rule of whatever the hell this is, we don’t care, we don’t think, we just act.

It did him good to see Juno sprawl out across the bed, to see his muscles unwind and his expression loosen at the softness, to see him let go of the weight of himself.

“What can I do for you?” his voice was honey, eyes hungrily roving over all of it, the limbs with their wiry strength, the old scars, the comforting softness of his gut, the lines of thick, dense body hair he wanted to follow and see where they led.

Juno’s gaze was suddenly quietly desperate, “Fuck me. Fuck me until I forget everything outisde this room.”

First rule of fucking Juno Steel, don’t ask.

Freyr nodded, scrambling to equip himself appropriately, suddenly feeling a mad fear that it would all be different if he looked away for too long. Each of the rooms had the basics of what two individuals, or even more than two, might need. Other things could be requested in advance, some other things that Freyr had to admit he was curious about were too large or elaborate to be moved from behind the stage. Perhaps now he’d still be around to catch one of the nightly shows and see for himself.

His hands were practised at straps, buckles and knots, it was nothing more than a few moments before he wore a rather beautiful black leather harness with gold metal accents, a middle of the road sized cock comfortably pressed against his own. Freyr wouldn’t like to assume, after all.

He turned to see Juno had watched the whole thing, now practically salivating, on his back with a hand between his legs, stroking himself into hardness.

“A little rude to start without me,” Freyr grinned teasingly, putting a hand on his hip.

“Then get over here,” Juno’s voice was already thin and gasping.

Freyr did just as he was told, snagging a bottle of lube as he passed, tumbling gladly into the bed. Juno rose to catch him, kissing him eagerly, now unhurried and lazy seeing as they’d reached their destination. If he wondered why Freyr’s hands could still deftly open the bottle and soak their fingers, all while the rest of him was devotedly kissing him, licking into his mouth, sucking marks on his neck while he gasped for breath, then Juno didn’t voice it.

There was some force in his hands as he yanked Juno’s legs apart, like a pouncing cat with prey suddenly deciding to stop playing and make an end of it. Juno let out a ragged gasp, clearly into it. His eyes fixed on Freyr’s as he sank two long, clever fingers into him, the first breach of his body. Neither could make a sound.

They’d neglected to turn any lights on as they’d staggered in so the colours of the room shifted and melted through half a hundred shades as, outside and unnoticed by either of them, the late evening melted into dusk, into night. As he opened him up and carved a space for himself inside the other body, Freyr saw Juno Steel as a gold bathed god, as a drowned sailor glimpsed through the surface of an indigo lake, as a constellation mapped out in dark stars. And always as a person, just another person he was sharing a bed with, who was starting to gasp and moan and whimper, eyes never leaving his face.

“Ready for me?” Freyr whispered, realising he’d been doing nothing but fingering him lazily for a good long while.

Juno nodded, voice raspy, “God, yeah.”

The sheets whispered underneath them as Freyr drew back from between his legs, now settling his hands on either side of Juno’s face. They didn’t stay there for long, as soon as Freyr started to move into him, slowly at first, Juno bit his lip and tipped his head back in such an expression of pained bliss that there was nothing for Freyr to do but hold his face gently. As he began to speed up, moving deeper and with more momentum, Juno took Freyr’s thumb in his mouth and sucked and in that moment, Freyr could have died happy.

It didn’t take long, they were both already halfway there. But it could have taken a year and it would have felt too soon, before the gasps and cries that were now indistinguishable grew to a peak, before there was a strangled cry, the thump of a headboard against the wall, a rise in their bodies into a perfect arch and it was done.

When Nureyev came, he gasped out Juno Steel.

There was something delicate about the seconds after, something shy and awkward as Freyr pulled out, as Juno winced at the stickiness on his stomach, as the bedsprings creaked, as they mumbled vague apologies while Freyr settled on his back so they now lay side by side, both staring up at the ceiling.

Juno was the first to clear his throat, clearly not a fan of awkward silences, “So...thank you. I mean, that was...I needed that.”

“I could tell,” Freyr’s voice was weak as he caught his breath. He hadn’t realised just how long it had been since the man he wasn’t had done that. His heart was hammering in his chest like a caged hummingbird.

Juno turned, sitting up on one elbow. In the dark, his expression was unreadable.

“Um...if I came back another night, could I...could I ask for you? I’d pay, I know this time was, y’know, a gimme.”

Freyr froze. Another night, he wouldn’t exist. Another night, he would be off somewhere with a new face and a new name, he’d be someone who had never heard of Juno Steel. Another night, Mars would be a collection of trivia the man he wasn’t had collected and collated and filed away for any future jobs.

First rule of thieving, stick to the plan. First rule of thieving, make no promises. First rule of thieving, no distractions.

First rule of thieving, just keep going, keep running, keep working and then...and then…

Nureyev turned to Juno and smiled, reaching out and stroking his cheek softly, “For you, Juno Steel? I’ll stick around.”

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 1x17

It is the first episode post solving the Tiffany and Lucy cases and Nancy Drew is going strong. I can’t believe this show will end after tonight’s episode, I feel robbed.

So we open with one of the more devastating scenes of the show. Nancy has just had her world ripped out from under her and is feeling so utterly betrayed she is referring to her parents by their first names. Carson is trying to make her understand that he was trying to do the right thing and also honor Lucy’s dying wish.

This has just thrown absolutely everything into question for Nancy, she’s even back to wondering why her dad sent her away the night her mom died, worried Kate might’ve had a change of heart and wanted to tell Nancy the truth. I don’t really have much to say about it except all the kudos to Kennedy and Scott like this was one of the best scenes all season, and also the crew members because the filming was spot on.

Now I am of course devastated that Nancy’s first instinct was to go to Owen but you know what he’s dead now (thank God) so that’ll never happen again.

It’s George’s family this episode and we got to meet her second sister, Charlie. I was starting to wonder if she was ever going to appear. You know who else appeared?

VICTORIA.

HAHAHA. SHE’S BACK.

“Ignore her.” “Don’t ignore me!”

She remains an icon.

About that scene with Carson’s tires, I’m very curious who put nails in them. My first instinct was Nancy because she wouldn’t have wanted her dad to follow her, but she was in a hurry so I doubt she had time or forethought to put nails in all four tires. It’ll be interesting to see if anything comes out of this. Also it was such a touching moment when he told Nick that Kate would’ve been happy with what he’s done with his life.

Oh hey it’s Lisbeth. Been a while since we’ve seen her.

Why do these people keep mentioning Portland like it’s right next door. They live in Maine.

Also the hauntings freaked me out man. Like they were so disgusting, especially Ace’s first one and both of Bess’s. Like I was expecting Ace to get dragged into the sink or something I was not expecting a severed finger.

And the fact that Victoria greets Bess with “Hi Bessie! What’s up?” makes me so happy and strengthens my theory that she will eventually take Bess on as some sort of supernatural apprentice. And since my daughter Dead Lucy was mentioned it brings me hope that she will continue to make appearances in this show.

Watching Ryan and Nancy this episode was awesome. Nancy knowing what she does about Ryan, and Ryan obsessing over Lucy, being worried his dad may have physically hurt her, trying to track down a baby. And Nancy’s car is indeed a moped with a roof I have never seen it described so accurately. While I’m anxious that Nancy remains a Drew, because she is Nancy Drew, and Carson is her father, I also want her to have a good relationship with Ryan. Granted neither of them are ready for it yet but I can’t wait until they are. One of my future ideal scenarios is Nancy (and friends) are caught in some deathly scenario and Ryan and Carson have to team up to save her and grudgingly come to respect each other and bond over their shared love for Nancy. That is the dream folks.

For some reason I think I shipped George and Nick more before they got together? When it was good old fashioned mutual pining. Is that just me being blinded by my Nancy x Nick goggles? I’ll probably have to work on that.

New topic, I think I almost cried when I saw that one dude scraping off Chief McGinnis’ name on the captain’s door.

And for the record you notice how both Bess and Ryan assumed the portents were coming from Dead Lucy? This feeds into my theory that there are multiple ghosts running around Horseshoe Bay and Lucy gets the rap for all of it cause she’s the most famous. The episode I’m pointing too the most is that one where Nancy broke into the morgue, Ace said it was haunted by Dead Lucy. Three kids broke in, one died one went crazy and one went missing. I’d be interested in seeing Nancy and Co square up against that ghost.

When Ryan said there were pros and cons to Owen dying Nancy and I both lost our shit, but Nancy was furious and I was cackling. Like one of Ryan’s funniest moments all season.

I am curious why Owen was so out of the loop on the Aglaeca stuff this episode. Like he told them about the fish hooks in his hand but didn’t know they were doing a ritual. It begs the question of why not?

That fancy looking dude who Nick bumped into is totally going to be important later. Mayhap he’s the one who murdered Owen??

I AM HERE FOR NICK CALLING NANCY OUT OF CONCERN.

This is what I am reduced to. Grabbing for these non existent moments.

Ryan Hudson is constantly driving fast and I worry this foreshadows an accident on his part. And Nancy’s words upsetting him to the point of tears? I felt that. I would’ve also been upset if someone told me I would’ve made a horrible parent to my dead girlfriend’s child. And the actor mentioned trying hard throughout the season to keep Ryan redeemable since he knew this moment was coming, so I’m looking forward to seeing how his arc unfolds. And the way he loved Lucy just pains me to see. Like he recognized her baby photo in Nancy’s baby photo, 19 years later and he still remembers that specific look Lucy got when she was figuring things out. Like despite all my best efforts my heart just breaks for him. Him knowing that Lucy died thinking he abandoned her? Like that just kills me.

But can we take a second to imagine this from George’s POV for a second? The guy she had an affair with whose wife died because Lucy Sable’s brother was trying to kill him, is her friend’s dad. Like that has to be a shocker.

I was absolutely mesmerized by the ritual scene. Nancy was just in so much pain, physically and emotionally, and Ryan feeling fatherly feelings for the first time in his life. Seeing this young woman, his daughter, crying out in pain and wanting to stop it. Poetic cinema.

HAHAHA Bess immediately pointing out that George slept with Nancy’s dad my girl came through. Unfortunately though I am sensing we received a glimpse of how her and Lisbeth’s relationship will end. On the one hand I want Bess to have a family, esp since her mother and family back in England want nothing to do with her, I just wish her family wasn’t so obviously evil and backstabby.

Victoria’s first reaction demanding to know what they did wrong was hysterical. It’s also not unreasonable since the ring/mirror ritual for Tiffany was even simpler and they managed to screw that up.

I’m going to be entirely honest with you guys. I cheered when Owen died.

With that out of the way the entire last few minutes, starting with when Bess got her portent, were perfection. The music, the lighting, the camerawork, the acting.

Onward to the season finale!

Apparently they picked one of the more violent spirits to make a deal with. You would think Owen being dead (no matter who killed him) would appease it in some way but no no. She’s coming to kill them all. (I’ll get my review for that episode up later tonight.) I can’t wait to see what costume and makeup does when we finally meet the Aglaeca in The Clue in the Captain’s Painting.

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapters 233 & 234 - creepy candymen and a sexy pirate

Chapter 233 picks up with Asirpa, Sugimoto, Shiraishi [and Vasily] in search of Boutarou the pirate and following up on the lead about a tattooed candy peddler.  The cover page for this chapter is unrelated to the action and instead has Sugimoto and Shiraishi admiring the spring wild flowers.  Therefore, it is now at least a year since the start of the quest for the gold.

My read on this is it is a call back to “simpler” times in the quest for the gold.  Before they found Wilk, before Kiro was killed and all of the action on Karafuto.

The chapter starts out with Sugimoto trying to develop a plan for finding Boutarou as he asks Shiraishi what he knew about him.  Shiraishi makes it quite clear that hiding as a candy seller pretty much goes counter to the pirate’s mode of action and likely if there is a convict selling candy, he’s someone that Shiraishi never knew or saw.

Sugimoto as usual thinking he’s a great natural leader decides to investigate the candy sellers with an ill formed plan as usual.  He approaches the puppet man with the octopus and flat out tells him, he’ll buy some candy from him but that he needs the man to take his clothes off for him.  This plan clearly backfires as the man questions his motive and he becomes more upset as he states that even if Sugimoto just paid him to see his nipples, that he’s not that cheap!  Asirpa simply looks perplexed at the man’s response, it seems he may have an actual history of being paid for such acts in the past as he’s making it clear his nipples are worth much more than candy.  I’d say this is a hint that these men may be linked to less legal activities.  If he were just a candy seller he wouldn’t have stated such things, he would have just likely ignored Sugimoto’s request.

In contrast, Shiraishi is much smater about things as he tosses some water on the other candy seller and makes it clear that he’d have to change out of his wet clothing - something Shiraishi has numerous experiences with.

However, he gets an elbow to the face and the two men decide they are business rivals and they chase them off.

For reasons 100% unclear to me, somehow Shiraishi is hiding in a storm drain/sewer and is able to get more intel as though he were the creepy clown from Stephen King’s “It”.  I’m not a fan of King so I really don’t get it . . .

But he is able to ask a kid for information about the candy seller with weird tattoos.

Interestingly, the next time they approach a potential target, Shiraishi takes the lead, as he asks the man if he’d sell him some candy.  He shows Shiraishi his creepy pop-up puppet, saying that it would be the candy.  Then Shiraishi finally asks him straight up that he’s got some strange tattoos.

The man hesitates before Sugimoto then inquires about them and wanting to see them.  He then reveals his face smiling.  His eyes are very interesting as well.  He’s got black pupil/irises but with a vertical white streak through the center.  What on earth does this even mean about his inner personality?

Thanks the the through translation notes at the end of the chapter by EHS scans, it was determined that his tattoos come from all parts of Japan, he has an obvious Ainu tattoo on his chin, but he has some from as far away as Okinawa, and others from various parts of Honshu.  To me this indicates that he has traveled far and wide though Japan.  Is he fleeing from various places where he was convicted of crimes and tattooed in each location? 

Yet, he quickly confirms that he did them all to himself.  I honestly think he’s lying but then again, this is GK, he may have done them to himself.  Shiraishi is clearly nervous in response to that statement as he has a past history with the system of punishment in Japan.

What’s better is how absolutely disgusted and disappointed Sugimoto is, he can’t even look at the man in the face when he concludes it is a huge waste of their time.  The two panels with the man looking quizzical and then shifting to a smile indicates he likely knows that they are looking for.

No one makes a smile like that unless they’ve realized something.  What I’m also curious about is what happened to the kid he led off into the woods in the previous chapter. It was like “watch this man do something creepy and then not resolve it.”  Thanks Noda.

The man breaks into a fit of laughter when it is so obvious he wasn’t what Sugimoto was looking for.  They almost politely leave him and they update us that their river searches haven’t yielded anything.  The Toppu river and the Sorachi river haven’t given them any new info so they ponder going to the Saru river.  Sugimoto considers changing their search to Sapporo for the current serial killer a good candidate and Shiraishi considers that might be a good idea. 

As they are discussing this Asirpa is hanging back, I guess she really doesn’t care about them making plans without her input, but it reveals an interesting aside as she over hears the man talking to himself.  That boss Wakayama had a great facial expression when he was disappointed as well.  Asirpa then makes the connection that if Wakayama was his boss he was a part of his yakuza gang.

Unfortunately, some train cars with coal roll by separating them.  His voice then calls out from a train car as he declares that they will never be able to find the gold.  Thus he knew exactly what type of tattoo they are looking for. 

Asirpa calls out to Sugimoto to find him, but they are unable to find him in the rail yard near the coal mines.  All we know now is that this tattooed candy seller was one of the men working for Boss and that he is more in the know than he appears. I’m sure he will pop up again in the future.

The action then shifts to an Ainu kotan near the Toppu river.  Sure enough the pirate is doing his own information gathering following up the leads that Heita found.  He is trying to pay off an older Ainu man with rice.  He’s already given 3 bales of rice and it is clear than he’s ordering his man to bring another 3 bales.

He is quite direct, he states that he knows that the man knows about the buried gold and that his brother was one of the people involved, specifically he was one of the men who was killed.  He is able to confirm that the gold was moved after his older brother was killed and he likely won’t find anything there.

So Boutarou has to grease the wheels so to speak by revealing how much information he knows.  He confirms that he’s fine with the fact that the gold likely isn’t there anymore, he still wants to know the location.  His assistant seems to doubt talking to the man due to his reluctance. 

He’s being quite clever as he has not revealed what he knows about the gold.  He is able to ask the man to confirm information that he already knows to give him the next place to start looking for the gold.  And of course the Ainu elder confirms what he already knew - the four rivers that the gold came from

With the confirmation he is looking for the place where it was stored so that he could trace where it was moved to and narrow down the location to search.

Overall, Boutarou is an interesting character, we know he has a violent history yet, when it comes to looking for information he is paying for it and being relatively chill about things, he clearly doesn’t have a thing for unnecessary violence.

Chapter 234 has a color cover, featuring Sugimoto and Asirpa, and the name of the chapter is steamboat likely a key to how they will travel to their next destination.

The chapter starts off with Shiraishi again developing a plan for them to get to Sapporo to look for the other possible convict.  He suggests they take a steamboat to Ebetsu which is the most efficient way to currently travel.  If they continue by horse along the roads it will be muddy and slow due to the thawing out of things.  As we know he was in Kabato prison, he also knows that convicts were used for labor to clean up the river.

The idea was that a steamboat/paddle boat can travel on a shallow river much more easily than a propeller driven boat.  This leads to a nice 2 page spread of the paddle boat and Asirpa seems happy and excited to be on the boat.

cue some sort of Mark Twain reference here . . . . Asirpa then expresses concern that Vasily; hood guy in the english translation, hoodie-chan via Shiraishi in the original, is hanging back with their horses instead of riding on the main boat.  Of course Vasily is still in full sniper mode, he’s keeping an eye on things from afar with his binoculars.

Sugimoto then states he’s likely hanging back as he is waiting for Ogata to show up.  Specifically, Ogata is after Asirpa and then he realizes if that is the case, Vasily is using Asirpa as the bait to draw out Ogata. 

Wow, just wow.  Sugimoto - projecting much?  He seems to have forgotten how Vasily already used Shiraishi as bait for Ogata once before when they were in Karafuto and now he’s disgusted by such behavior.  Again, he is making the assumption that Ogata will stop at nothing to steal Asirpa when his attempt to get Asirpa to give him the code failed and then Ogata pretty much wanted Asirpa to kill him.

Really, Sugimoto’s read of Ogata is so flawed that well, I don’t get why Asirpa and Shiraishi haven’t said something about what they learned on Karafuto more.

Of course, they don’t have a simple journey as the pirate spend all of his stolen loot on paying off the Ainu man. So he’s going to rob the postal deliveries from the steamboat.  There is even a postal deliveryman who is protecting money that is being sent via registered mail, making him an easy target.

The steamboat captain manages to hit one of the boats as he won’t go down without a fight.  Of course the pirate has to live up to his name.  He swims under the ship, and pops out like a dolphin on the opposite side.  To use his revolver, he blows all of the water out of if before cocking it for use as he holds up the ship’s captain.

These panels really highlight that this man is a sexy badass.  Of course Shiraishi and Sugimoto have rushed to the deck to check out the action when he recognizes Boutarou and he recognizes Shiraishi!  He seems amused and excited to see Shiraishi, and the crew members are wondering what is happening as the captain decides that they must be working with the pirate.

So, definitely a poor choice of action by both Shiraishi and Sugimoto.  Thankfully, Asirpa was asleep on their traveling bags so hopefully she is still asleep.

As with this Sugimoto becomes an accidental accomplice to the pirate.  As the one man goes to grab his rifle he notices Boutarou prepare to shoot the man. So he realizes he has no choice but to remove the security men from the crew by tossing them off of the boat.

Thus, Sugimoto becomes a tool for the pirate as he saves the men from being shot by tossing them off the boat.  In the action as he judo tosses the men over board he drops his rifle.  The rifle falls outside of the passenger cabin and how Sugimoto is without the use of his rifle.

Now Sugimoto lacks his rifle and there is no Ogata to scold him.  I think back to when Ogata retrieved his rifle for him.  This will come into play in the future action as now all Sugimoto has is his loved and trusted bayonet.

Recall that during the silent kotan arc, Sugimoto placed his rifle against the wall of the house while Ogata clearly kept his rifle within reach.  When the fake Ainu were exposed, one of the yakuza dove to grab Sugimoto’s rifle and Ogata shot him square in the back.

After shooting him, Ogata quickly is able to grab the rifle and then he feels the need to teach Sugimoto a lesson.  As he throws the rifle to him, he warns him, “never take your eyes off your weapon, private first class.”  We only see Ogata’s eyes looking at him as the rest of his face is obscured and Sugimoto doesn’t even look back at Ogata as his eyes are shaded by his cap and the rest of his face is shaded.  It is clear that Sugimoto doesn’t like the fact that Ogata is right.

Later on when Anehata steals Tanigaki’s rifle, Ogata will remark that he keeps telling people to keep an eye on their rifles.  The Ogata lesson is simple - use your brain in potentially dangerous situations.  You have a rifle - it doesn’t mean someone else will use your rifle. 

Soooo, any predictions for what will happen due to Sugimoto lacking a rifle?  With no Ogata, will Vasily step in?  We will have to wait for the next chapter to find out.  The loss of Sugimoto’s rifle to me is like “cue Ogata” and in the absence of Ogata cue Vasily.

The chapter then ends with Boutarou commending Shiraishi on having such a great underling working for him.  Clearly, Boutarou respects Shiraishi and sees him to be a more intelligent than normal convict.  I don’t think this is a jest from him, he seems to be honestly impressed.

The excitement of this chapter is about to step it up a notch as the pirate gang notices another steamboat is heading upstream and opposite of them.  And that it has soldiers on it!  Perhaps members of the 27th under Tsurumi’s command?

I don’t have many deep thoughts on these two chapters.

It is clear that Shiraishi is a better planner than Sugimoto and their group needs someone to kick some sense into Sugimoto.

The candy seller with the face tattoos will come back. 

Vasily is not the Ogata replacement and he continues to be treated like an random dude by their group.  Sugimoto really doesn’t understand that embracing the enemy of my enemy is a poor idea when you can’t communicate with him.  Asirpa is again starting to think about including him in their group but is much more hesitant after Ogata’s meltdown on ice.  We still don’t know if she told anyone about that really happened and she really does need to talk about what happened.  I would guess Shiraishi knows more about what happened, but Sugimoto still doesn’t take him seriously all the time so it is a moot point.

Hopefully, we will get more interesting action in the next few chapters to see where things are going with the pirate.

[in-arlathan]

Born Wilder

Wow, writing this little something of a fic took way longer than I expected, but I got there in the end. I really needed to get this story out of my system to get my fanfiction mojo flowing again.

This one-shot features my Elenara Lavellan and her companions Varric, Cassandra and Solas in the Hinterlands. After writing Solavellan romance with no specific Lavellan, it’s was so nice to write with one of my OCs again.

Sadly, Elenara and Solas are far away from their relationship in this one, so no sappy romance here, but I enjoyed exploring her thoughts on the Inquisition and being a Dalish among humans before she became Inquisitor. Also, some friendly bonding with Varric at the end, which is always good. Happy reading! :)

Read it on AO3

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“So, Chuckles,” Varric said, “is it true you spend most of your time in the Fade?”

 “As much as is possible, yes,” Solas answered with a curious side-glance. “The Fade contains a wealth of knowledge for those who know where to look.”

The dwarf scoffed. “I don't know how you dream, let alone wander around in there. Especially when the shit that comes out of the Fade generally seems... pretty cranky.”

“So are humans, but we continue to interact with them…,” Solas replied with a smile tugging at his lips. “When we must.”

“Point taken,” Varric said.

Cassandra made a disgruntled face. “If you gentlemen are quite finished…”

“Come now, seeker…”

Elenara smiled, despite only half-listening to her companions. She was too busy keeping an eye out for rebel mages or rogue templars in the surrounding forest. It hadn’t been long since the party had stumbled in a battle between both sides and she was not keen to repeat that experience just yet.

They had spent the last week traversing the Hinterlands, running errands on behalf of the Inquisition. Every now and then, Solas or Cassandra urged her to call the retreat, get back to Haven and move on to Val Royeaux to speak to the remaining clerics of the Chantry. Elenara, on the other hand, didn’t want to rush the matter. She was rather happy to be out in the wilderness again, even as an envoy of the Inquisition. The rustling leaves and whispering wind reminded her of a time when everything had been much simpler. Before the sky had been torn apart.

If only she could remember what had happened at the conclave…

 Elenara squared her shoulders, wiping sweat from her brow with one hand. Dwelling on the matter was no use. Her memories wouldn’t return just because she wanted them to. The only choice she had was to focus on what was before her: the refugees that required her help. She had decided that their lives mattered more than her knowing what had transpired at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And so she hurried through the Hinterlands, doing everything she could to make them feel safe and protected. As if somehow, through her own actions, she could feel safe and protected, too.

Her companions didn’t seem to take much liking to the remote wilderness, though. Varric used any chance he got to complain about the weather, the people, the food, and the lack of proper ale. Even Cassandra, who had been at odds with the dwarf since Elenara met her, seemed to agree with him, but she did not voice her contempt as loudly as he did. Only Solas kept quiet and dismissed any of her questions if he felt ill at ease. “What we accomplish here will one day serve us in our mission to seal the Breach,” he said. “That is more important than my personal comfort.” 

“We’re almost there,” Elenara said when they finally exited the woods and the friendly conversation between her companions came to an end. Looking around carefully, she felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Her gaze was fixed on a small hillside by Dwarfson’s Pass where they had set up camp the night before. It was not much, just a few bedrolls arranged around a campfire, plus a chest in which they had stored some of their supplies. Nothing of value or importance that would draw the attention of scavengers or bandits. And yet, Elenara couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Hurry,” she shouted and started into a run, racing up the hill with her senses on high alert. Behind her, she could hear Varric groan with exhaustion as he tried to keep up with Solas and Cassandra who followed Elenara with relative ease.

“Shit,” was all she said when their camp came into view.

The bedrolls lay scattered and had clearly been searched, and the chest with their supplies was missing. Whoever robbed than even took the bushels of elf root they had hung on a small rag to dry them before transport.

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric reached the camp shortly after, looking around in confusion. The dwarf swore under his breath, as he searched his bedroll. “Those bastards took my notes,” he exclaimed. “I stored them in a small compartment … ah, nevermind.”

“I’m sorry,” Elenara said and meant it.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Varric said with a handwave. “This should teach me not to leave my writing lying about while I run off to kill people.”

“Do any of you have any supplies with you?” Cassandra asked.

Solas checked his backpack, as well as the small bags on his belts. “Sadly, no,” he told the seeker. “I thought I had some bread left, but come to think of it, I must have placed it in the chest with the rest of our supplies.”

“I only have two bottles of dwarven ale from last night,” Varric added after a quick glance into his baggage. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Great!” Cassandra growled. “What a perfect mess. The sun is already setting. It’ll be dark before we have the chance to get to Winter Watch Tower to ask for help.”

“I guess you are correct,” Elenara admitted. “But we don’t need to get to the fortress to sustain ourselves.”

Varric raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you suggest, Lavellan? Lie in wait for some travelers to ask them for help?”

“Creators, no.” Elenara shook her head, slightly amused. “You really don’t spend much time out in the wilds, do you?”

“Not, if I can avoid it,” Varric said.

“Well, I’ll take care of this,” she announced and checked her quiver and bow. She had enough arrows left, and the rope in her backpack would come in handy when making snares. “I suggest you go and search for wood to make a fire with before it’s dark. I’ll be back in no time.”

With that, she turned on her heels and made her way down the hill again. The prospect of being alone in the woods – truly alone – made her feel giddy and foolish like a little girl. Keeper Deshanna wouldn’t have liked it.  

She was already half-way down the hill when behind her Solas asked. “Where are you going, lethallin?”

Elenara turned to smile at the apostate. “The wilderness contains a wealth of sustenance for those who know where to look,” she said and spread her arms wide.

***

She returned to the camp with two small nugs as her prey. The dead animals were dangling for a piece of rope she had used to tie them together. She hadn’t even needed her arrows to kill them. All she had done was laying out a few snares in the undergrowth and wait for the creatures to walk into her traps. For an experienced hunter like her, it had been an easy task, as simple as putting on clothes. Still, Cassandra and Varric eyed her suspiciously when she presented the animals to them.

“Our dinner,” she told them and dropped the nugs next to the fire.

Varric stared at her in disbelieve.

“That was remarkably quick,” Cassandra said, brows furrowed. “You’ve been away for what… three hours?”

Elenara made a vague gesture. “Give or take.”

She relieved herself of her backpack, quiver, and bow, and placed all of her belongings on her bedroll. Her companions had used her absence to rearrange the camp and get a decent fire burning. Solas was stoking the embers with a stick, making the flames grow higher while Elenara searched for her hunting knife.

“Nugs are fine and all,” Varric said, nibbling at one of the bottles of dwarven ale he'd carried around with him all day, “but how exactly are we going to eat them?”

Solas let out a soft laugh but didn’t dare look up from the dancing flames.

“Anything on your mind, Chuckles?” Varric growled.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” the apostate said, lips still pursed in a smile.

“Sure.”

Elenara found the hunting knife in her backpack and removed it from the leather sheath she stored it in. The steel blade reflected the light of the campfire as she turned it in her hand, marveling at its beauty. It had been a gift, given to her by her childhood friend Erendir when she had come of age. “It’ll serve you good, wherever you go,” he’d said.

She wondered where he was now. What he might think of her.

I will do everything within my power to keep you and the clan safe, she thought and turned her gaze to the sky. The Breach was only a faint shimmer in the darkness but she could feel it lingering on, waiting for her to return to Haven.

Focus on what is before you, she reminded herself, sat down cross-legged and freed one of the nugs from the rope. Without giving it much thought, she pierced through the skin of the animal with her blade and made a set of cuts. She stripped the skin from the nug with a quick  thrust  , and Varric made a disgusted sound.

“Andraste’s ass, Lavellan!” he exclaimed, leaning away from her with one hand raised as if he was trying to defend himself against an attacker. “Please tell me, you did not just do that!”

Elenara grinned. She liked Varric, but he had lived behind the walls of Kirkwall for far too long. With his fondness for city living, he could barely manage to endure a bit of rain without complaining. To shock him like this was mildly amusing to her, to say the least.

“Where did you think meat comes from, Varric?” Cassandra asked. When the dwarf didn’t answer, the seeker turned her eyes back to the nug and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Though, I do admit it looks more… invasive than I expected."

“You'll get used to it.” Elenara put a stick through the skinned nug and placed it on the fire, then picked up the second one. “There’s something satisfying about it, too. To know that you brought in the food to sustain yourself.”

“I’d rather bring in more bottles of these, thank you very much,” Varric said, waving around the dwarven ale.

“As a merchant, you certainly enjoy that privilege,” Solas admitted and stopped stoking the fire. He sat down and wrapped his arms around his legs, regarding Varric intently. “You are a successful businessman, are you not? Besides being a well-renowned author, I mean.”

“And here I was, thinking you didn’t mind what’s happening in the real world, Chuckles,” Varric said gleefully. “You continue to surprise me.”

And so the two of them picked up their conversation of Solas’s exploration of the Fade as if no time had passed. Elenara would’ve been happy to listen to them while she waited for the meat to be roasted by the fire. As distant as the elven apostate behaved towards her, she enjoyed Solas’s tales about memories he had found in ancient dreams. But this night, all she could think about was how strange the life of the Dalish must seem to other people if even an experienced adventurer such as Varric was grossed out by something so mundane as preparing the meat for cooking.

Taking care of her food – be it meat or bread or berries – was as natural as breathing to her. It was a necessity when spending your life as a traveler. But that wasn’t the only thing she had learned with her clan. She knew how to weave and knit and sew. Or how to read tracks and take care of the halla in their little pens. She even helped repair the aravels on more than one occasion. And she’d done all of it gladly to serve the Lavellan clan. Such hardship had seemed like a small price to pay if it meant that her family stayed safe and fed, and she’d spent a lot of time practicing and making use of her talents.

With the Inquisition, however, none of these talents seemed to matter anymore. Every morning she awoke in her cabin in Haven, a servant had already made breakfast for her. Before she had time to finish the meal, someone else showed up to bring her new clothing or clean the room for her. She’d known that humans lived very differently compared to the Dalish, and when she joined the Inquisition, she had been sure she could attune to this new lifestyle. And yet, after weeks, it still felt so inherently wrong that she ran off into the forest to hunt on her own at first chance. Out there in the woods, the world had finally made sense to her once more.

Like so many Dalish, she’d been born out in the wilderness. Roaming the vast plains and lush forests of the Free Marches had been second nature to her ever since she had come into this world. And although there had been a time when she had wished she could venture away from the clan to explore some old ruin or seek out education form human scholars, she never truly wanted to leave her old life behind. It was ingrained in her mind and body, her very being. It was who she was.

She only hoped she could go back to the life she lived before when the Breach was sealed.

“Hey, Lavellan,” Varric roared. “Are you still with us?”

Elenara blinked. “Wh–what?”

The dwarf laughed. “You must have been very far away,” he said and tapped a finger to his temple. “I asked you three times if you wanted to share a story with us, but you wouldn’t respond.”

“Oh.” She shifted on her bedroll, trying to push the feeling of embarrassment aside. “Really? I’m sorry. I was… distracted.”

“Yeah, I could see that,“ Varric replied with a roguish grin on his face. “So, do you have a story to share?”

She looked around, taken aback by the dwarf's request. Even Solas and Cassandra seemed interested in what she had to say, which only added to her confusion.

“Why would you care to hear it?” she asked suspiciously.

“We all have something that defines us. Some story we tell ourselves about who we are and who we want to be.” Varric gestured towards Cassandra. “The seeker, for instance, talks about duty all the time, because that is what defines her. Chuckles here can’t shut up about the Veil and the Fade, because that is what defines him.”

Solas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t always talk about the Fade.”

Varric gave the apostate a skeptical look, then turned his attention back to Elenara. “Point is, Lavellan, besides you spying on the conclave and doing your best to seal the Breach, I couldn’t help but notice that we don’t really know much about you.”

“Won’t you be disgusted by the barbaric Dalish customs?” she asked pointedly and nodded towards the nugs that still roasted over the fire.

“You take me far too seriously, Lavellan.” Varric laughed again. “One more reason why we should get better acquainted, don’t you think?”

A faint smile tugged at Elenara’s lips. “There is one story, actually.”

“That’s great.” Varric took a sip from his bottle. “Let’s hear it. The meal won’t be ready for another hour anyway, I guess."

Elenara stretched out on her bedroll, head propped on one hand. “One day, the clan was camped outside of Starkhaven…”