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spvce-cowboy · 3 years

Text

reunion

ch. 3 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x fem!reader)

previous-ch. 2: “gentle things”

next-ch. 4: “songbird”

rating: mature

8k words

warnings: alcohol, drug use mentioned, jealous/protective mando, animal cruelty, descriptions of gore

summary: the luxurious rot of Canto Bight is enough to put anyone on edge. Mando is forced to ask for your help in finding a high profile quarry.

Mando leaves the fighting ring before the caterwauling nexu is able to deal the killing blow.

He can still hear the sound of the gore spraying against the floor as he climbs the stairs towards the exit, the roaring jeer of the crowd obliterating the speakers inside his helmet. The inevitable outcome of the fight was clear from its onset given the state of the nexu’s opponent, some kind of sand-bear, who was already injured upon entering the cage-like structure.

This wasn’t the Outer-Rim fighting rings he was used to. This place has carpets and a fucking chandelier suspended right above the blood clotted, dirt floor of the pit. It has pipe smoke and dark liquor, the low rumble of voices that only rise in tandem with the progression of the fight. There’s a strange reserve among this crowd that Mando has never seen before, not in this context at least.

The patrons still had that starved look in their eyes though—bloodlust, pure and simple. Somehow, all the tuxedos and hair gel makes it far more sinister than it normally would be.

Karga sent him here to gather information about the quarry, but after an entire day spent searching along with the past hour he’d spent floating around the fight hall where the informant was rumored to be, he knew to give it up before he wasted any more time.

Mando exits the underground arena, stepping into the late afternoon heat just as it begins its gradual descent towards an oncoming chill. Upon arriving at Canto Bight, he had learned very quickly to avoid the main streets. There were too many eyes and whispers for a bounty as high profile as this one for him to be spotted on his own like this, obviously searching for something.

There’s something about this city that makes him absolutely revolted. It’s not the strongest testament to his resolve or his character, but, at the same time, it’s not something he can necessarily help.

Mando still has absolutely no clue what Karga was thinking, but here he is, regardless if it made any sense or not.

He returns to the Crest, deflated after a second unsuccessful day of trying to gather information about the quarry’s whereabouts. He is desperate for a lead, two of three informants proving to be completely useless and his patience growing thinner every second he has to stay on this forsaken planet.

Closing the ramp behind him, Mando heads straight for the cockpit, needing a moment to regather his thoughts. To brainstorm a better plan of action before it becomes too late to rendezvous with Karga’s third, and last, possible informant.

The problem was that there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to get into the racetracks on his own. Getting into the fighting pit—which was considered “seedy” by Canto standards--was already a total hassle, costing him far too many credits and straining what limited negotiation skills he had.

The second problem was that he’d rather take a blaster to the leg than involve you in one of his missions. But now that was kind of his only option.

Mando rubs a hand over the forehead of his helm as he paces. When that doesn’t work, he settles himself in his pilot’s seat, hunching over slightly against the weight of the beskar against his bones. Maker, he is fucking tired.

Swiveling his head to the side, he notices a pile of something on the console that he can’t exactly make out until he leans over it.

Resting on the command board is a leather string, a few palm-sized pieces of stained glass already fashioned to hang from it by smaller loops of the same material in varied lengths. It looks like you were in the middle of working on it when something else distracted you, several more discs of glass piled onto one another to the right of the unfinished project, and a few loose scraps of leather in a pile on the copilot’s chair.

Mando allows himself to admire it for a moment, rubbing his gloved thumb over the glass’s surface. By the time he glances up through the windows of the cockpit, looking at all the people milling about outside, his breathing has somewhat evened. It’s easier to think straight, at least.

He stands and climbs back into the hull, rounding the corner to peer into the space you’ve made for yourself.

It takes him a moment to see you over the pile of blankets you’ve kicked off your mattress. You’re asleep. Under the table. The kid taking a nap with you. Of course that’s where he expected you to be if you weren’t in the cockpit but—but.

You’re on your belly, head buried in your folded arms. You have one, bare leg hitched up over pillow. The length of your calf spills over onto the floor, socked foot delicately pointed. That’s not really what stops him in his tracks. Well, it is in part.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts.

It must have just been a mistake, he knows that. He’s seen you in one of your own that’s the same general color and cut, but he knows this one is his because of the hole in the elbow where it had caught on an exposed screw and torn a few days previous. He’d been too busy to mend it.

Mando tries to wake you before his thoughts could go anywhere else. He says your name quietly, then a little louder. It wakes the kid, who yawns and blinks up at Mando, making happy sounds up at him from where he’s snuggled into your side.

When that doesn’t work, Mando nudges your calf with the tip of his boot. You startle awake, a protective hand shooting out to automatically bring the child against your chest, blinking rapidly up at him.

“Oh,” you wince slightly at the light coming into the cabin but otherwise doesn’t visibly react when you realize it’s him. Your arm loosens from where it had wrapped around the kid. “You’re back. I thought you’d be gone a while longer.”

“I need your help with something,” Mando crosses his arms in front of his chest. It gives him something to do with his hands and how awkward they feel just hanging at his sides as you prop yourself up into a sitting position to listen to him, the loose material of his shirt pulling up to reveal little glimpses of your lower back and belly as you do. “I have to have a companion with me, to go into the racetrack. They won’t let me in if they think I’m looking for a quarry.”

You nod, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm, voice croaking and still hazy with sleep. “Yeah, yeah sure. I wanted to check it out anyway. Just lemme get changed and we can head out.”

You pick the kid up and place him back on the floor of the hull. He toddles over to Mando, nearly falling—your hands automatically reach out to hover over his sides--but he manages to catch himself on Mando’s pantleg, tugging the fabric in a determined up, now.

Your brow furrows. “What’re we gonna—”

“There’s a nursery. Karga cleared it,” Mando reaches down and scoops up the kid.

“Gotcha,” your voice already sounds clearer. You reach out a hand for Mando to pull you up, he obliges. The blankets fall from where they’ve pooled around your lap as you do.

You pad down the length of the hull towards the fresher, your hips sway with the movement as you lift an arm to continue rubbing the sleep from your face. The shorts you’re wearing are a few sizes too big, you have them rolled twice at the waistband to keep them up. Mando looks away sharply once he notices.

“Alright womp rat, how does some dinner sound?” Mando smiles to himself when the kid gives an impatient squeak. “Yeah, yeah okay alright. I’m the worst caregiver in the galaxy, I know.” The child keeps giggling as Mando makes his way into the cockpit.

Mando is running through some of the Crest’s vitals on the command board when he hears you climbing up the ladder.

“Do you think this would be okay, for the racetrack?” There’s a certain timid quality to your voice he doesn’t think he’s heard before. You have also literally never asked him for approval on something, so he’s already a bit surprised before he turns to look at you.

The clothes you chose were simple, a fitted long sleeve and a pair of loose-fitting pants long enough to at least partially conceal your work boots. It shouldn’t have felt like much of a departure from your usual roster of outfits because it really wasn’t, but for some reason there’s something different about it that he can’t put his finger on.

You have your hair piled on top of your head in a bun. With it pulled back like that, all attention is drawn to the canvas of your neck, your delicate throat that gently eases into the soft planes of your face. There’s a nonchalant beauty to you that sucks all previous thoughts straight from his head.

“You might want to bring something warmer, a jacket or something.” He turns back to the command board, desperate to look busy and hide how long he looked for. “Temperatures drop on Cantonica as soon as the sun starts setting.”

“Oops—yep. Desert planet. I forgot,” you sigh. He hears the sound of your boots scaling the ladder back down.

He purposefully doesn’t look up when you enter the cockpit again, when you announce you’re ready he nods curtly, making brief but direct eye contact with you before setting a quick pace out of the Crest and into the streets of Canto Bight.

The nursery is tucked away, out of reach and notice, protection guaranteed. He leads you through a series back-street passages to get there, too nervous about the attention the three of you would get with the kid and the main roads. You carry him against your hip most of the way, occasionally adjusting the little hood you’ve fashioned to cover his most distinguishable features with every person you pass.

The door is nondescript, positioned in the alleyway behind a semi-busy restaurant. Mando can sense your apprehension the second he steps up to press the buzzer. Within seconds, there’s the sound of a series of bolts unlocking.

A warm faced woman opened the door, wearing the clean white uniform of a nurse. “When Karga called in I hardly believed it,” her voice is light, but there’s a grating, nervous squeak to it that makes Mando scowl. Maybe it was just the day he was having, but just about anything was able to set him off.

Mando and the nurse exchange a few blunt words about pricing and care. He winces, slightly, at the cost, but it’s not anything either of you could notice. Right as Mando is about to turn to take the kid from your arms, you speak up.

“Is this… safe?” You ask again, holding the kid a little tighter to your chest. He realizes that it’s the first time since you’ve joined them that you’re separating from the kid, Mando thinks his anxiety is partially feeding off of yours.

“Karga gave me his word. It’ll only be for a few hours.” Mando glances at the nurse, who was giving the two of you her very best customer service smile. “C’mon pal,” Mando nods towards the nurse. The child’s big eyes stare apprehensively up at you, then at Mando. One of his small hands unfixes itself from your shirt to reach out towards the bounty hunter. The nurse clucks her tongue, her hands on her hips.

“Someone seems like he’s already gonna miss his daddy.”

His stomach drops without warning. “I’m not his father.” The correction is biting in a way he doesn’t intend it to be. He’s vividly aware of your sharp inhale at his words. The nurse looks startled for a half second before blinking her eyes and retaining composure.

“Yes, yes of course,” she stretches out a hand as an offering of assurance towards the child, who has resumed clinging to the fabric of your shirt. “Hey little guy, c’mon. I’ve got a lot of friends for you to play with, and some snacks. You like the sound of that?”

Mando catches your smile at the child’s ears flicking with interest, despite the fact that his hands are still firmly attached to you. Mando mutters something under his breath before taking the child from you, handing him off to the nurse and trying to push down the terrible feeling it gives him hearing the kid give a small whimper as the two of you walk away.

The racetrack is down a major boulevard, towering sandstone buildings line either side, their circular doors illuminated by bands of glowing yellow neon. The streets are a different kind of polished stone that makes Mando’s skin absolutely crawl for not discernible reason.

He thinks you’ve caught on to his worsening mood because you try to keep the conversation warm and light in a way he’s never seen you do before. Your eyes are fixed to a constant arcing movement, taking in as much of it as you can, but your mouth keeps moving about anything but Canto Bight. You avoidance just draws more focus towards the situation at hand, but he appreciates the effort.

When the two of you reach the racetrack, you stop talking completely as you scale the stands. You and Mando settle on two chairs pulled up to a tiny table, overlooking the standing room crowd below. Mando faces the crowds more than the track itself, however you angle your chair so that you can look at the racing fathiers with ease. Eventually you turn away, grimacing.

“What is it?” He asks, out of curiosity as well as a desire to fill the silence.

“They’re so beautiful,” you cast one more glance over the track as the group rumbles past to the sharp roar of the crowd. “But they look so sad.” You keep looking at the beasts for a beat longer before fixing your gaze to your hands clasped in your lap.

Mando finds his words slowly. “This planet… this amount of abundance. There is always a cost. They always make someone else pay.”

You wince, shifting your body so you’re only facing Mando and the expanse of the crowd that’s over his shoulder. You don’t look at the track for a while after that, purposefully keeping your body turned to keep your gaze away.

Mando finds fleeting solace in the fact that he was at least able to keep you away from the fighting ring, which is quickly replaced by guilt in exposing you to a similar cruelty in a less bloody form. He does his best to remind himself that you mentioned wanting to see the races previously, that the indecipherable emotion on your face was not entirely his fault.

The wait spans an hour. The tension in Mando’s shoulders grows with each passing minute.

“He isn’t coming,” Mando eventually grits out. “It’s… Maker I—”

Jobs have started off way worse than this, he’s not sure why he’s allowing all of it to get under his skin. It’s this damn city, something about it makes him feel like there is a knifepoint digging between his ribs.

You tap his hand lightly. Twice, with your index and middle fingers. It happens so quickly he’s almost able to believe he’s imagined it if it weren’t for the fact that you were still adjusting your hands in your lap after your hand had retreated. As if you didn’t know what possessed you to do that, either.

“Hey. It’s fine. It’ll work itself out, yeah?” You maneuver your head to stare directly into his visor. For some reason that alone is infinitely more intimate than your brief touch. “We can just stay here for a bit longer in case the informant shows up, then pick up the kid, grab something to eat and hunker down in the Crest. Tomorrow’s a new day, or whatever.”

Mando looks you over, then nods.

The sun is setting on the horizon, the tracks illuminated by the last vestiges of its light. This is the beginning of most everyone’s day, yet the drinks are already flowing, and have been for quite some time.

There are far too many extravagant outfits, ridiculous little hats barely teetering on large skulls. The roar of the crowd grows with their drunkenness, the races becoming crueler the more the stands fill. Mando will never understand the value in any of this and he’s genuinely not sure what’s worse—the icy coolness of the fighting rink or whatever all this is.

“Who’s the quarry?” You blink up at him. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Tyreus Cavill. Some filthy rich kid who doesn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut. He’s taunting the Gild to the point of insult,” Mando rubs his hand over the brow of his helm. “It’s been confirmed that he’s supposed to be at some kind of party tonight. That was just about the only information I could get.”

“Was that why Karga mentioned deep cover?”

Mando nods. “He said it would be my most viable option, which doesn’t make any kind of sense. Especially with no pre-existing contacts that could get me any intel on where he’s hiding.”

You speak up after a while. Mando isn’t sure how long, too comfortable in the silence as is.

“You know my mother worked for the Alderaanian court?” You say it softly, quickly looking at the racetrack to avoid drawing attention to your words. You’re kneading the hem of your sweater, a nervous tick of yours he couldn’t help but notice. “I still remember all the things she had to teach me when we went to dinners at the homes of the survivors, the etiquette and everything. I’m positive it’s much of the same, here. All this,” you twirl your index finger in the air, gesturing to the whole of the track and presumably what lay beyond. “Seems very familiar. I could help, if you need it.”

“Your mother?”

“She was the court singer--or, well, one of them,” your voice is tense. “My father was a professor. I don’t remember a lot, just that they loved me very much.” Your eyes are searching the crowd in some desperate search for something, he’s not sure what. Probably for any kind of distraction, or any reason to keep your eyes away from his. He waits in silence, patiently. “They moved to a different planet to have me, a few years before the annihilation, there were a few other survivors who were off planet when it happened. I remember my parents hosting them, and they us, on a few occasions. It was always a multi-day affair of trying to remind me what proper manners were.” You wrinkle your nose. “It’s all very stupid, if you ask me. But,” you turn your head finally and look at him evenly. “I can—”

Mando watches as your gaze floats to a space just above his left shoulder. Your entire body visibly tenses, lips parted in what he can only think is total shock. Your hands drop the edge of your shirt and hover in your lap, as if you don’t know what to do with them.

Before Mando can ask what is wrong, you’re getting up from the table and pushing through the crowd. It takes him a beat to register what has just happened before he is up and following after you, making considerably better time in catching up given the fact that the crowd seems to naturally part for him. He almost reaches out to touch you, but instead settles for aiding your pursuit by keeping pace and staying at your side, clearing a path for you with his body and an outstretched arm to motion people to the side.

“What is it?” He tries to keep his voice low enough to not be overheard, his head in a constant survey of the crowds before you. You shake your head and keep pushing forward, higher into the stands, swerving around servers with platters stacked high with strange looking drinks. “Hey—if we go any further we’d need clearance—" the higher in the stands, the richer the patrons get. They wouldn’t let either of you in without identification after the eighth flight, which you’d just swiftly pushed past. Mando checks over his shoulder and, sure enough, a server is murmuring something to a guard droid, pointing up at you.

You’re so far up by that time that you have at least a minute until the droid catches up with the two of you. You climb onto one of the raised platforms dotted with various aristocratic parties, dining over bright white table cloths, centerpieces of bizarre orange flowers bursting through the tables. You make a beeline for the centermost table, where a Twi’lek woman is dining with an Abednedo and a human male.

You approach the Twi’lek in three swift strides, grabbing her shoulder. “Febhana.”

When the woman turns, standing, there’s a kind of wide-eyed shock of absolute wonder that immediately turns into pure joy. The two of you leap into one another’s arms in a cacophony of ecstatic, indistinguishable sounds. One of some long awaited reunion.

The Twi’lek woman, Febhana, holds your face in her hands, yours slide over hers. There are tears in her eyes as the two of your chatter over one another in breathless delight.

“I thought you—”

“I had no idea that—”

“I’ve tried to find—”

You both cut each other off, staring into one another’s eyes before laughing again and embracing tightly.

From over your shoulder, Febhana gives Mando one of the quickest, scathing once-overs he’s ever received. He can’t help but automatically have a little bit of respect for it, especially compared to the terrified, diverted eyes of her companions.

“Who is this?” She asks, pulling away from your embrace slightly. You open your mouth to respond but she’s already babbling over your warmly. “Oh! No. Don’t tell me. Not yet. Let’s do this over drinks at mine—please. Please indulge me. Maker, look at you.”

You let loose a laugh Mando doesn’t think he’s heard before. A certain tonal quality of complete release, familiarity. You nod as Febhana clasps your face between her hands again, in marvel. Mando doesn’t blame her, with that look of utter joy on your face he’d—

Well.

“Do excuse us,” Febhana swiftly addresses her dinner mates, they nod and mutter forgiveness, eyes still fixed to the ground. Mando knows for a fact that at least one of them has a fob on them by the tight anxiety exchanged in their brief glances towards one another. He ignores it for the sake of maintaining the moment between you and your friend.

Mando trails behind the two of you by a few paces. As Febhana guides you through the crowds, she waves off the guard droid with an elegantly manicured hand.

Febhana’s apartment could be considered a house twice over by Mando’s book. She leads you and him through so many tall-ceilinged hallways and rooms to get to the… lounge, he guesses would be a proper term for it… that he genuinely can’t remember where the entrance is.

The room contains a bar stocked better than any cantina on Nevarro, a few odd pieces of furniture, and a large fireplace. Heavy, dark blue curtains hang from windows so tall he has to crane his head upwards to see the top. He guesses the luxury is communicated through the refusal to occupy the space with much else, despite the fact that it could be considered a small banquet hall.

Febhana makes you and her drinks while you settle on one of the sloping, white couches, scanning the room in the same way Mando has been, with a little more plain wonder in your eyes.

Mando hovers on the periphery, unsure of where to place himself until you motion him over to sit on one of the opposing chairs, equally abstract as the rest of the furniture. Febhana settles across from you on the couch, handing you your drink before leaning back and kicking off her heels.

The two of you are in a constant chatter that has so many names and dates and overlapping speech that Mando has a difficult time keeping up. What he does catch is limited and mostly inferred: the two of you escaped from the same warlord at different times, Febhana was able to scale the social ranks of Canto Bight with ease and an inherited wallet--most importantly, the two of your missed each other very much.

It’s been at least an hour since the three of you sat down when Febhana directly addresses Mando for the first time.

“And what are you doing here, Mandalorian?”

Mando feels your eyes on him, burning, as you take a sip of your cocktail.

“She saved my life,” he manages as a straightforward reply. “I’ve hired her as a medic.”

“Febhana,” you say. When you’re slightly tipsy like this, you have a breathless wonder in the way you go about describing things. “It’s… it’s been so good. I’ve been practicing all these languages and… Maker, all the places I’ve been. It’s just like you described, when we would tell each other stories to go to sleep. Everything’s so big and there are so many people.”

Febhana throws back her head in a laugh, nodding. “Well I know that, darling. Oh, stars, it’s so good to look at you again.”

You and Febhana go back and forth a while longer still, Mando happily settles into the rhythm of it. There’s the warm, familiar way women get so engrossed in one another that he finds completely novel, if not enviable. It softens something in him to see you so relaxed as you prompt Febhana to detail her exploits, the excited yip you make when she flashes you the wedding band strung on a series of thin gold chains looped around her neck.

Then again, the way the two of you seem so physically intimate occasionally makes something in his chest constrict uncomfortably. He isn’t sure where it comes from, all the little touches you give each other seem to come from a place of purely platonic joy in reunion. But there’s a little jolt in his stomach whenever he sees it happen. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it as jealousy, but… she gets to feel you. So unabashedly.

At some point there’s a lull in the conversation. You take this moment to stretch your arm across the couch, clasping Febhana’s hands in your own. “We’re actually here for a specific reason,” you say. “And I’m only asking you out of genuine, pure desperation—Mando… has a job, here. That’s gotten a little tricky. The bounty is on the head of Tyreus Cavill.” Febhana’s eyes widen considerably, but other than that she maintains composure. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He needs to find him, Febhana—there’s intel that he’s supposed to be at some kind of event. Possibly tonight.” You glance up at Mando to check if you’re getting the details right, he gives you brief nod of assurance when you do. “Do you know anything about it?”

Febhana scoffs, shaking her head and withdrawing her hand from yours to grab her drink resting on the low glass table in front of you. “If you’re referring to what I think you are, it would be the Gathering of Rams, one of the most exclusive events hosted on Canto. I’d imagine that’s why he’d dare show his face, even with the price on his head. Unless you already have an in, you’re fucked, Mandalorian. That place is more fortified than a warship.”

You visibly deflate. “What do you mean?”

“It’s an old, and I mean old, money tradition. A dinner for just about every despicable person in the galaxy. I’ve only heard rumors about what goes on, definitely some serious cult-y type shit, oaths, rituals, the like.” She chews on a nail as she thinks. Something in her eyes lights up. “Wait. I think I… yes! Yes, I got the announcement a few weeks ago. Stars I think—” she looks down at the device on the inside of her wrist, tapping on it until—“Christ you two are the luckiest couple of bounty hunters in the galaxy, you know that? The Tagges are hosting the afterparty, tonight. The most eligible of all of Canto Bight will be there, and then some. I was invited a few weeks ago, I’d completely forgotten. With any luck he’ll be dumb and drunk enough after the Gathering to go.”

“The Tagges?” Your voice is filled with apprehension. You glance to Mando, then quickly back to your friend. “Febhana, there’s no way he can get in.”

“Hm, I’d think so too but there could be a chance…” Her eyes narrow, her face breaking into a toothy grin. “No, I’m a complete idiot. Maker, this is gonna be perfect--most of the ladies in waiting here dress their guard droids as glorified curtains. It’s a new thing if you get what I’m saying. If we go in together and disguise the Mandalorian as even more of a hunk of metal than he already is—” Mando grunts at the slight jab—“all one of us would have to do is get the target by himself with a little eye-batting and it would be a done deal.”

You and Mando speak in unison.

“I am not going to be a honeypot.”

“She will not.”

Febhana raises a brow, one side of her mouth pulling up in poorly concealed amusement.

“Oh I suggested no such thing, I’d happily volunteer. But I do need a wing-woman, for appearance’s sake. I am taken, you know,” she flashes the wedding band again, pulling the collar of her dress down a fraction to do so. “Would be unbecoming to go on the prowl in public like that without pretending like I was just assisting.”

Mando glances over at you, trying to gauge your reaction to her proposal before he came off as to overbearing. He didn’t have the right to, he knows that. But there’s some raw part of him that winces at the very thought of you and your safety getting involved in one of his jobs. Maker if you got hurt in any way—

Febhana’s voice breaks his thought before it can be fully formed. “Oh, this is going to be excellent.” She practically purrs, jumping off the couch and extending her hand towards you to help you up. You comply, giving Mando a raised-brow glance of well, let’s see where this goes.

As Febhana begins leading you across the room, Mando stands.

“Should I contact the nursery to let them know to keep the child overnight?”

“The child?” Febhana’s eyes flick between you and Mando quickly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You curse under your breath, pressing your hand against your forehead. “A kid we’re looking after,” you clarify for Febhana. “I’m so sorry Mando, I got excited so it completely slipped my mind. I…” you bite your lip. “If you feel like it would be safe doing that I… guess that should be fine.”

“My wife could also look after it,” Febhana regards Mando evenly for a moment. “If you’re worried about safety. Would that be sufficient?”

Your eyes brighten slightly, glancing at Mando, tilting your head in question.

Mando nods, addressing Febhana directly. “If she trusts you, I do. I can travel back and get him while the two of you get ready.”

“I’ll send a car for you,” Febhana throws the remark over her shoulder, already busying herself by flinging the double doors that lead into the hallway back open.

You inhale sharply as if remembering something, tapping your friend on the shoulder before she begins to walk down the hall. “Wait, Febhana—the car, is there maybe a taxi service you could call? With an actual driver? He… we don’t really ‘do’ droids, if possible.”

“I have an ‘actual’ driver, darling,” Febhana playfully chides. Her eyes flick towards Mando. “I’ll ring him, he’ll be downstairs in a moment. You remember where the entrance is, right?”

Your delicate rephrasing, that “we,” rings in Mando’s ears for the entire trip back to the nursery.

Mando quickly returns with the child, slightly weirded out by the enclosed landspeeder Febhana sent for him. It’s unlike anything he’d seen before, more like a carriage than any hover-craft he’d ever set foot in. There’s a dividing curtain between the passenger cabin and the driver’s seat, which he has pushed away to make sure the silent man at the wheel doesn’t try anything.

The driver has a stony demeanor that seems very similar to Febhana’s—she clearly wasn’t one to suffer fools, and the people she surrounded herself with seemed to reflect that. Thinking back to the way you initially interacted with Mando, he could potentially see how your shared history with Febhana could have informed that. The characteristic briskness, the unflinching resolve.

The child spends most of the returning trip chattering in relief, little hands reaching out to touch Mando’s beskar in a continuous greeting.

“Right here, kid. Always right here,” he affectionately rubs the corner of the child’s ear. There’s a heavy guilt that had settled itself in the bottom of Mando’s stomach since dropping him off.

He wants to apologize in some way, to blame it on his mood or the mounting anxiety surrounding the job, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete jackass. So he settles for bowing his helm to bump foreheads with the kid in a small display of reassurance. It seems to settle something in both him and the child almost immediately.

Mando glances up sharply, nearly forgetting the parted dividing curtain. The man, a wiry looking human male, glances back at the two of them through the thin pane of the rearview mirror, then returns to chain smoking while wildly maneuvering his way through traffic.

The hover-car’s abrupt stop breaks him from his thoughts. He glances out the window, recognizing Febhana’s apartment building. The entire block is in a similar style as the boulevard you both had walked down earlier, circular doors outlined by bands of glowing yellow light. The only difference were the towering, wrought iron gates in front of each building and a set of tall stairs made of the same sandstone leading up to each house. The driver gets out and opens the landspeeder’s door for Mando and the kid, then steps forward and unlocks the gate, holding it open for the two of them.

“Sir.” The driver’s voice is more of a growl. If it weren’t for the enhanced settings of Mando’s visor, it would be too dark to see the mass of scar tissue that formed a jagged line across the man’s throat. The old wound is only partially concealed by the lapel of his coat pulled up against the drizzling rain. He’s abnormally tall, so thin that it looks as if his skull is actively attempting to escape his face. “Febhana’s apartment is the third buzzer. The service droid will let you in. She told me you should follow it.” The cigarette balancing against his lip bobs as he speaks, his heavy drawl disrupted only in part by his eviscerated voice box.

Mando’s lip curls slightly but he nods, thanking the driver, ducking out of the hover-car and climbing the steps leading to the apartment’s door.

Just as the driver said, the front door of Febhana’s apartment is opened by a droid. Mando stiffens despite the fact that the thing just barely reaches his knee. It gives off a series of little sounds before turning away and maneuvering down the front hall. Muttering something unsavory about Canto Bight under his breath, Mando follows it inside.

When he arrives at the threshold of Febhana’s dressing room, she’s only just started pulling out dresses for you to try on. He deflates slightly, really hoping that the two of you would have gotten this part over with so he could begin scoping out the Tagge mansion as soon as possible.

Mando accepts his fate and seats himself for the time being, placing the kid on the ground to let him toddle over to you. You lean down immediately and scoop him up, lifting him in the air with a happy: “Hey, stinky!” The child giggles as you snuggle him to your chest, pressing kisses all over his face in reunion.

You keep gently playing with the kid as you and Febhana resume your conversation: wiggling your fingers over his face for him to grab, tickling his tummy, gently pinching his socked feet. It’s something you sink into so naturally Mando can’t help but be mesmerized by it. It calms something in him, to see both of you like that. He pushes the implications of that feeling away for the time being, as he always does.

Febhana gives the kid a bit of a once-over but looks overall disinterested, turning her attention back to rummage through her closet. “So it’s supposed to be a formal dance, but if it’s anything like the similar things I’ve gone to, that shit quickly disintegrates. But it’s still weirdly important for them to keep up the illusion of appearances, even though most rooms with closeable doors are occupied by people railing lines or fucking. Or both. Usually both.” The Twi’lek woman plucks out some kind of red, silken shift, holding it in the air then shaking her head and returning to her hunt. “I’ve been to enough Tagge parties to be a familiar face, we can play you off as an old friend of mine, some kind of lady-in-waiting thing or whatever. Crowds like these don’t tend to prod too deeply into personal histories, and with tits like yours I don’t think they’ll be interested in asking too many questions.”

Mando clenches his jaw so hard something starts hurting. You give a bit of an embarrassed laugh, quickly diverting the conversation. “So how do we get introduced to Cavill?”

“Honestly? The easiest thing to do would be getting you to snuggled up with one of his friends. He runs around with a group of bachelors who are not… pleasant company by any standards. Snotty rich kids,” she makes a face. “But if that’s not an option I could try to push some of my contacts there to get us into their circle. Seriously, darling, with men like this involved it is probably going to be one of the easiest bounties he’s ever going to collect.”

The strain being placed on every cell in Mando’s body in response to this conversation alone says the exact opposite.

Febhana continues pulling out dresses, layering some over a bench and discarding others all together.

“Febhana, will they know?” You ask it suddenly, your tone—not tense, necessarily, but definitely controlled, as if you were expecting an answer you didn’t want to hear but were willing to take regardless.

“It’s the Tagge family, so of course they know what happened to that fucker, but I don’t think they would care,” she waves off your fearful tone with a shake of her head. “Just as long as we make a bit of an effort to conceal your identity, for formality’s sake, it’ll be fine.”

“What happened to who?” Mando asks. Once he does, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room.

After an extended moment. “You didn’t tell him?” Febhana’s head cocks, you visibly swallow.

“I um…” your nostrils flare with the sharp inhale you take as you search for the right words. “When I escaped…”

Febhana interrupts. “She stabbed the shit out of the warlord who owned us. All his wife found was pulp. Didn’t take it well, the cunt. Nearly catatonic. The rest of us were able to practically waltz out of there because of this one. Owe this gorgeous bitch my life. All of us do.”

You smile at Febhana, reaching out to squeeze her hand. She winks at you, covering it with her own before turning to go rifle back through her closet. You keep your gaze to your hands when she does, lips pressed together. Mando doesn’t remove his eyes from you as Febhana continues.

“So it might be a little difficult getting her in there, but to be honest the Tagges hated him anyway. Rival business type stuff, though, not the whole holding women captive or worker’s rights violations and debt bondage thing,” her voice drips with a kind of contempt that Mando prays he’ll never have directed his way. He notices your hands tighten slightly from where they lay in your lap, your arms loosely looped around the kid who now sits upright in your lap. “I know someone who can forge some papers well enough to present to the guards, he owes me some favors anyway,” Febhana continues. “They’ll be ready by the time we have to leave. Doll you up enough and I’m sure it’ll be fine—ah!” It is only then that Mando looks back over to the Twi’lek woman. Her eyes are lit up, fanged mouth pulled upwards in a triumphant smile. The dress in her hand is a deep plum color, fabric so thin he cannot make out what it actually looks like without a form to fill it. You reach out to it, rubbing the dress between your thumb and index finger.

“Perfect.” You and Febhana say it in unison, your widest smile of the night parted up at her. There’s a delighted, mischievous tilt to your mouth he’s never seen before.

Mando swallows, despite the sudden tightness in his throat.

He waits outside while the two of you change, sitting on a strange tufted seat pushed against the hallway’s bay window. It’s piled with an obnoxious amount of silken pillows—it seems the longer you’ve been with him, the more surfaces his beskar encounters that it never would have otherwise. A part of him is able to find the humor of that, despite the discomfort of feeling wildly out of place in your friend’s luxurious home. He settles with his legs slightly spread, back hunched to brace his elbows against the tops of his beskar-clad thighs.

After about thirty minutes, a woman comes down the hall, absentmindedly cleaning a pair of large-framed glasses with the corner of her sweater, a thick, leather-bound book tucked under one arm. She looks as out of place in this hallway as he does—more like a Galactic librarian than a resident of an apartment like this. She puts her glasses back on and stops in her tracks once she sees him.

“Who are you?”

Mando clears his throat. “A friend of Febhana’s.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am--well. A friend of a friend.”

Her eyes narrow quizzically. “I’ve been married to that woman for five years now. I think I would know if she had a Mandalorian as a ‘friend of a friend.’”

As if on cue, Febhana emerges from the beaded curtain suspended over the entrance of her dressing room, barefoot and wearing a blue gown. She pads over to the woman, something bulky tucked under one arm, the other carrying the child in a sleeping bundle. Febhana places him in her wife’s arms delicately. “Lovely, we’re just getting ready for the party. Don’t mind her play-thing,” she tilts her head towards Mando without directly looking at him. “He’s just here for decoration.”

Mando physically bites his tongue.

Febhana’s wife glances at Mando, before leaning up to gently kiss Febhana. “Alright, I’ll be in the study. Wake me when you get back.”

Febhana cups her wife’s face gently. It’s such an intimate gesture that Mando looks away, feeling as though his presence alone is an interruption. The couple talks quietly for a moment, then her wife exits through the same door she came in from.

“Here is the guard’s uniform. The measurements should be right,” Febhana stands in front of Mando, handing him folded pieces of dark fabric, and then a helm. It’s two halves of a black metal shell meant to fit and tighten over the face of a droid. There’s a thick pane of darkened glass cutting through the middle of the mask, presumably to not disrupt a droid’s sensors but it will render Mando’s absolutely useless. This night just keeps getting better and better.

The whole thing is not something Mando has ever seen before, though he was never one to frequent circles like Febhana’s. The only distinguishable features are symmetrical dips cutting severe cheekbones into the object’s silhouette. Two fixed pieces of gilded metal form a swooping triangle that hovers just over where his nose will be under the helmet’s featureless surface. Looping, thin chains dripping from the decorative structure to partially conceal the mask’s lower half. When he holds it up in the low light of the hallway, their movement creates glinting waves of light.

All of it is purely flare, for the most part. At least the tailor made plenty room for armor beneath the--as Febhana put it--glorified curtains usually meant to conceal a droid. He heaves a sigh, taking the uniform from her. “This is the only option?”

Febhana shrugs. “Unless you want me and your girl going in by ourselves and trying to lure him out to you--which is certainly an option--yes.”

“She isn’t ‘my girl.’”

“Oh, trust me,” her smile is biting. “I know that.” She tilts her head towards the dressing room. “C’mon, the pretty one is almost done. You can use my room to change.”

When he enters, you’re seated at Febhana’s vanity. All the air is sucked out of his lungs.

The dress is really nothing more than a series of gauze-like drapes that spill from your body and pool onto the floor. The expanse of your back is completely exposed, the dress only resuming to cover you right above the base of your spine. One long piece of fabric serves as the illusion of sleeves, cinched at the swooping neckline by delicate, medallion-like embellishments that rest at the dip of both shoulders. The sleeves’ near-transparent fabric are fixed to ovular gold rings you have on the middle fingers of both hands.

Mando watches the fabric shift over the bend of your arm as you use said finger to swipe a little pigment on your lips. It glistens in the mirror he looks at you through. In that initial moment of deep focus, you have the severe look of a high official’s wife. Utterly untouchable. The most beautiful creature he’s ever witnessed.

His entrance breaks your concentration, you smile up at him, warmly, through the mirror.

“I’m almost done,” your voice breaks him from his stupor. Your other hand dips a small brush into a pot of powder. You dab it under your eyes and then stand, going to a crystalline bar cart and spraying some kind of perfume on your neck.

Febhana steps into the room behind him. After a moment Mando finds his voice.

“And you said she isn’t supposed to be the honeypot?” It’s hard to keep the pain out of his voice as he says it. At this point it’s like the two of you are actively trying to kill him.

Febhana laughs, and the smile you give him is expansive yet strangely private at the same time. As if you and him were in on some secret, some inside joke. You cross the room and pat him lightly on the shoulder twice, before moving him aside in order to link arms with Febhana.

The two of you leave the room, picking up whatever conversation you were having before Febhana left to give Mando his things. He stands there until his heartbeat steadies, then moves behind the wooden room partition to put the uniform on.

It’s going to be a long night.

a/n: mando, babes, u don’t even know the half of it

jokes aside i am so excited for the next chapter you guys have no idea how much fun this is to write !! love a good ol’ fancy party w a bunch of degenerates.

tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @walkingthegrounds @roseallisonparker @kaitlyn2907 @dinsbeskar

please let me know if you would like to be added/removed!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din and grogu #mandalorian and grogu #grogu #reader insert #i'll be here in the morning #i'll be here in the morning ch.3 #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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some-dr-writings · 3 years

Text

V3 Boys x SHSL Toy Maker

Shuichi Saihara:

· Shuichi was surprised by how much he had began to rely on you. He didn’t entirely depend on you, but with you life was certainly much easier.

· Shuichi liked your toys, thought of them as cute, but there was never any he was particularly attached too unlike how Kaede likely would be with a toy piano. Even as a child he much preferred reading to anything else, it was his lifelong hobby. He still cherished any toys you gave him though. However, that changed one day.

· It was just a day like any other, Shuichi was in his office discussing being hired by a family for his services. Their pet capybara had gone missing and everyone was upset, especially so were the young children who were distraught and began to bawl. Their parent desperately tried to calm them, but when all attempts had failed, they just started apologizing to Shuichi, who to their confusion was searching through the drawers of his desk. He then squatted on the ground, a few action figures and little stuffed toys in hand, making some comical voice gaining the children’s attention who quickly joined in on playing. After an hour or so, once Shuichi was finally able to pry himself from the fantasy land without upsetting the children, his character haven fallen under a sleeping curse, he got back to his client to discuss the job. When they were to leave, the children refused to part from the toys and Shuichi said it was alright for them to keep the toys. Seeing how good Shuichi was with the children and having toys his client asked if Shuichi had children of his own.

· That question really stuck to him as he searched for the lost pet. He didn’t dislike the idea of having children with you. If you were up for it maybe… it was something to consider. He did become rather fond of the thought though when he had returned the capybara home. He was invited in and found the children so happily playing with your toys. It also hit him in that moment how much joy your work brought, much like how his own work had those children crying with joy to see their furry companion had returned.

· Something about that moment changed him, made him want to rely on you. Your kindness in gifting him your work was able to ease the pain of others. He began to keep a stuffed toy or action figure on his work desk instead of hiding them away, so he could be reminded of you all the time, and to cheer up any more hurt children who came his way. In a way, all your toys were very special to him now, all of them held some personal meaning, showing you both just wanted to make people happy… Maybe that was why he fell so hard for you back at Hope’s Peak, you both had the same dream.

Kaito Momota:

· You made nothing but space for Kaito. Glow in the dark space themed stickers, star and planet projectors, star chart globes, wooden spaceship puzzles, anything space you could think of you made for Kaito. Your boyfriend adored every last one of your gifts, all of them proudly displayed in his room. Kaito always got so giddy when you gave him something, he always showered you in affection in return, Kaito just found it natural to give you affection much of the time, but he was especially so after getting a gift, he had to give you something in return after all!

· After giving Kaito another gift, with that bright grin Kaito lifted you off the ground, spinning around, hugging you close as he flopped onto his bed. “Hey, Y/N. Teach me how to make toys.” “Huh? You? Make toys?” “Hey! What’s with that look!?” “Nothing, I’m just surprised it all.” Kaito huffed, slightly miffed at your response. “So, Kaito Momota, the man with his head up in the stars, why would you want to learn?” “To be with you! And everyone plays. Humans play, dogs play, cats play, birds play, everything plays so if I ran into any aliens I could make them some earth toys!” “……… Fine. It would be nice to have you in the workshop for a day.” “A day!? What do you mean a day!? Wait… you believe I’ll master your craft so quickly?” “No. Like your training you won’t keep it up.” You snickered seeing you successfully had gotten a ruse out of him. “I’ll show you!” And with that you successfully ignited a determination in him to prove you wrong and he’d actually keep up on training with you… for a while at least.

· You underestimated how much of an effect you’d have on him though. There were times when he slacked off in practice or following your teachings, but he never quit entirely. “You seriously thought I’d quit!? Do you even know me! I am Kaito Momota, Luminary of The Stars! I can do anything I set my mind too!” He then presented you some wooden blocks he was working on for you to examine “… Besides, if you think that lowly of me… Then I just have to prove you wrong or you need to raise your standards! You deserve the best boyfriend, and if I’m not that yet, then I’ll become that! It won’t be hard for me! Even when we’re apart and I’m in space I’ll still be the best boyfriend! Or husband! I just have to keep working at it! Just you wait and see. If I’m somehow not now… then I’ll just have to become someone more reliable for you.”

Ryoma Hoshi:

· It was a day like any other, you were hidden away at the back of the store in your little workshop, whittling away on a wooden doll when you heard a knock, knock, knocking on the door. “Come in!” You kept working for a few moments, finishing that last line as not to forget it later before turning to your guest. “Ryoma!” It caught the man off guard for a moment how brightly you smiled upon seeing him. “Hey.” “So, what brings my favorite person here?” You were confused seeing what appeared to be a snapped stick and some string. “It’s probably not cool to ask you something like this, and during work hours at that, but-” “wait, the cat toy broke again!?” “Yep.” You took the pieces, spreading them across your desk. “I knew these things were cheep, but I thought it’s at least last longer than the last one. None of the cats even play roughly, so how?” Baffled you scanned over the pieces. Ryoma stood beside you, watching as you looked over where it broke, mumbling something about materials and cost. “Think you can make one that won’t break.” “Think I can!? Who do you think you’re talking too, of course I can!” “Heh, yeah, I should have known.”

· Ryoma didn’t like distracting you from work, but he rather enjoyed helping you with it. It was always so relaxing helping you gather materials, or to try to mimic your movements and follow your instructions, or to simply watch you. You were always so detailed, yet still found beauty in simplicity, everything you made was perfect.

· “Hmm… aaaaaaaaaand done. This should do!” You passed it to Ryoma, who looked over your completed work. “Thanks. I’m sure they’ll love it.” “Tell Cheese and the rest I say hi and that I love them.” “Heh, I’ll be sure to do that. Thanks.” “Actually.” You stood up, taking off your apron. “My break will be soon, and as boss I can make the executive decision to take off early. I’ll just stay in a little later today to make up for it. Mind if I tag along? Lunch with my favorite cats just sounds lovely.” “You can tag along any time with me.”

· Life could be rather rough after having served his time for Ryoma, but he had you and his cats, the only anything that brought stability and joy back into his life. It always hit him just how much your company meant in little moments like these.

Rantaro Amami:

· No matter how far Rantaro had went in his search he always carried around several of your toys which reminded him of you. One for each of his missing sisters. Something he knew they would like. Rantaro was fearful at times, what if they had changed so much he didn’t know them anymore? If they didn’t like one toy hopefully another would do, the toys were there simply to bring them joy, or to help calm them should they be coming from a stressful situation. Even if none appealed to their taste, surely your work could still draw out a smile, it had been able to do so for so many others, including himself so surely they would still help. And if it somehow didn’t then at least he had them around for his own sake, hugging them close at night when dark thoughts seeped in or when that homesickness crushed him like a boulder.

· It was not often you traveled, almost always needing to be making something to fill up your little shop, it got lots of traffic and often things sold out so you had to try to quickly restock, you didn’t have much time for anything else, but at least you were happy making toys, it was good. Truthfully Rantaro preferred it this way. He was scared that if you were by his side during his search, he’d let you down just like he had with all his sisters, losing you and being unable to find you again. At least, even if it hurt to be apart, he knew where you were. It was a bit of an unrealistic fear since you were an adult who could take care of themselves and you had a phone and knew his number, but… it was still a real fear which had festered deep inside of him. He couldn’t lose you as well. He treated your toys like you in a sense, making sure he always knew where each was, and made sure to not leave any behind when traveling.

· Even if it was only for a short time Rantaro would always return to you. Since you were usually busy all you could really do together was have him watch you work or teach him something you thought he’d find useful while making something like teaching him how to sew. Rantaro always indulged in these times together. He absolutely loved you, and though he liked your toys, they were nothing compared to actually being with you. Soon though the search would continue, at least he had more precious memories along to keep his spirits high.

Gonta Gokuhara:

· Gonta loved all of your toys! He found it amazing how you could turn a single piece of wood into a functional little car or some such. You offered to teach him since he was so fascinated. It was a long process with many injuries along the way, fingers pricked on needles, cuts from carving tools, pinches, even burns, but no matter come what may Gonta never gave up and continued to learn your art! It was something important to you, and Gonta wanted to understand it, if he could understand it, then he’d understand you better, and Gonta wanted to learn as much as he could about the person he loved!

· Though it would not be fair for you to be the only one to be teach so Gonta would teach you all he could about his beloved insects! Gonta wanted you to know him better too after all. Gonta would take you out for walks and such to find some bugs and tell you everything he knew about them. He also thought it good for you to get out of your work shop more often and get some sunshine. All his lessons seemed to have some payoff when you gifted him a realistic looking figure of his beloved bugs.

· Gonta always showed off his gifts to his forest family when he got the chance. He didn’t get to see them often but when he did he’d regal them with everything he had done, including his time spent with you, he even tried teaching them what you taught him, but it never ended well.

· Gonta kept all of your gifts perfectly displayed in his room, making sure to take care of them to not let them fade due to time so they could last even a little longer.

· Gonta was a diligent student eager to learn more, he wanted to be a gentleman after all and Gonta thought that a gentleman should want to understand all things and continue to learn and grow always! He was going to be the best person he could be to make his family proud, and now he had you his partner, he wanted to be the best partner he could be for you! Not only was he growing but learning under you also gave him an excuse to spend more time with you which admittedly at times was more important to him.

· After leaving Hope’s Peak, when Gonta began teaching others of bugs he’d actually use the models you had gifted him as examples. With time you had only become more invaluable to him. You were the only one for him, without a doubt.

Kokichi Oma:

· Kokichi served as a… rather interesting source of inspiration. He practically insisted on being your muse for some reason unknown to you. He’d giddily drag you around town on a whim going wherever. On these excursions Kokichi would buy something seemingly random only moments later asking if you could make something out of it, even goading you into it if necessary. It were as if he were challenging you to think outside of the box. He’d take you to botanical gardens, museums, theme parks, whatever was new in town and asked if you could make a toy based off of something from one of those attractions. You were never short on ideas with him around, that was for certain.

· Kokichi also insisted that you both play with your toys, saying there was no point in making them if you never enjoyed them yourself. He’d take you back to times of being a child, playing pretend, making up stories for the toys, building pillow forts to be castles and whatnot. Often this exercise would give you more ideas, even some improvements, and all the while you were taking quick notes Kokichi would cry out for you to return to your fantasy land with him.

· On occasion Kokichi would commission you to make spy gear for D.I.C.E. Toys with secret compartments that could shoot lasers and sleeping darts and act as walkie talkies, and explode moments after a recorded message was played with a tracking device and maybe even a gps to find some fast food place should they get hungry and maybe even- and the list of things a single item had to accomplish went on, and on, and on. They were large requests, but Kokichi would always insist that only you could accomplish this and no one else. You’d usually give in at some point and take on the request. You always had to adapt, Kokichi always adding or taking out what he wanted at any given time, but in the end he was always satisfied with the product. Coincidentally these requests always came whenever you were losing confidence and when you were struggling with a certain skill which would be a pin point in making the toy work such as wiring.

· Kokichi in his own way was just always looking out for you, making sure your work never felt like work, that you were always having just as much fun as others had playing with your toys.

Korekiyo Shinguji:

· Korekiyo always found great joy in examining your crafts and asking you about them, your inspirations you had, if any for making that particular item, why you used the particular materials you used and whatnot. Most everything was anthropology, and that included your toys. Korekiyo wished to learn how you interpreted this era. He knew without a doubt how your craft would be preserved for eons, future anthropologists studying them, and he wanted an idea of sorts how others might see your work, it was all to beautiful to not be displayed in a museum one day. Kiyo loved having discussions with you, about your distaste for the thought of your work being preserved. To you, your toys were made to be played with and enjoyed so the thought of them being sealed away was disappointing. The pair of you could endlessly discuss the possibility thinking of something new to add to the conversation from such differing points of view. Kiyo was in awe and fascinated by your perspective, he simply had to learn and understand it more!

· When you were becoming unmotivated for your work Kiyo would take you to a museum or even show you his personal collection of artifacts, show you long forgotten toys or others items, perhaps seeing what cultures of the past had crafted could inspire you in the present which it often did, more so Kiyo speaking so thoroughly about it all, a word or phrase in particular capturing your interest and you dashing off back to your work.

· On occasion Kiyo would even try to study how you work, your techniques and such, comparing to what he knew from the past. You even tried teaching him since to you watching something and partaking in an activity were completely different things. Again more discussions ensued from your hands on approach and Kiyo being the observing anthropologist. He so loved these discussions seeing how differing your points of view were, yet you still loved one another and could not want for anyone else.

· You were able to learn and experience so much than you could or would not have on your own without the other. In a way, you were perfect opposites, just similar enough in nature at your core, both wishing to understand one to bring joy the other knowing the past for the future.

Kiibo:

· Though Kiibo had told you on multiple times he had a childhood and grew up like any other human being you were still surprised to see how fond Kiibo was of your toys even getting nostalgic, recalling times when he had similar playthings as a child, Doctor Idamashi even taking time out of his busy schedule to play imaginary games with Kiibo. He was always so tender with the objects, you always put so much time and care into every last one, making sure each was up to your standards and excepting nothing less, working tirelessly till it was… like how Idabashi always worked so hard, all for Kiibo’s sake. Even if your work was not specifically for him, he still held all your efforts so dearly.

· Kiibo however had some… issues with your more electronic toys, like the robot dog, or the futuristic robot dog, or the little robot dog, or the robot dog on wheels, or the robot dog with a toy gun attached to it’s back, or the robot cat, or the futuristic robot dog on wheels… There was a big demand for robot dogs and you always delivered them, much to Kiibo’s chagrin, especially when you were testing them and playing with them and giving them all your attention. You’d try comforting Kiibo by saying he was the only robot for you, but that only ever made him more upset.

· On occasion you’d find Kiibo indulging his inner child, playing with one of your toys only for him to immediately clam up and get embarrassed, his face heating up and flushing a bright pink and his face covering clamping shut in an attempt to cover it upon realizing you had seen him. You’d join in on the fun, Kiibo eventually loosening up and playing again. Kiibo thought it silly, but Kiibo found this fun. It took him back to a time when he was just happy and wasn’t aware of the harsh robophobia the world festered. He could just enjoy himself and feel like a person, forget troubling thoughts, like you thinking he was a mere toy, he could be a child with you and just enjoy your company. Both of you just being human. In a way, it was like you were now apart of his childhood, there for the good times. Kiibo truly loved you, and maybe… just maybe moments like this would get you to see he truly was a person too, so you could love him in the same way.

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vivithefolle · 3 years

Note

Hi Vivi, can you share some thoughts on the "Hermione deserves to be/should have married to XYZ because she is way too good for Ron" mentality of this fandom??

I’m gonna copy-paste a Quora answer of mine, because recycling is important!

Claiming that Ron is “out of Hermione’s league” is a statement rooted in sexism, classism and probably a bunch of other -isms.

It might seem like I’m just throwing buzz-words around but let me explain.

First off, the sexism.

Oh, the sexism.

As I’ve pointed it out in yet another one of my answers (I’m so sorry for drowning you all in a plethora of links), Ron is very much a female-coded male character.

Ron is emotional, wears his heart on his sleeve, has anxieties and inadequacies, walks off in order to cool down, has a temper, puts other people before his needs, and pretty much adopts Harry when he rescues him in the second book. He’s the Heart of the Trio: he doesn’t rely on sole logic, he can believe something without proof, he is sensitive and thus is the easiest to hurt emotionally.

Whether you call it a “beta male”, a “wuss”, “defying gender roles” or a “soft boy” is your own business, but the core of it is that Ron doesn’t meet the standards for people’s vision of a “desirable” masculine figure.

The little things Ron quietly performs in the books - when he helps Harry into his pyjamas in Chamber of Secrets because Harry’s arm is bloop; when he’s worrying about Hermione’s whereabouts in Prisoner of Azkaban; when he helps Harry unwind after his visions in Goblet of Fire; when he puts food onto Harry’s plate and wakes him up from his nightmares in Order of the Phoenix; when he beams that Hermione was “perfect, obviously” when she passes her Apparition test - all those caring gestures don’t seem like much, but if you bother to think about it, they paint an enormous picture.

Who gets Hermione to stop overworking while making her feel good about her accomplishments? Who comforts Harry from his nightmares and cares for him in the dead of the night, when nobody is awake? Who makes sure his friends are healthy and happy? Who wards off the dark and depressing thoughts, be it with his fists or a joke?

It’s Ron.

When you think about it, “traditional masculinity” in Harry Potter is as much frowned upon as “traditional feminity” is - which sometimes bites Rowling in the butt when you remember how she obviously seems to consider that Hermione and Ginny are the only desirable kind of girls.

Vernon Dursley? The entrepreneur “king of the household” prejudiced suburbian middle-class Dad? Fits in the usual tropes of traditional masculinity.

Dudley Dursley? The typical “boys will be boys” spoiled middle-class only child who’s the apple of his parents’ eyes and even takes up boxing, as if he wasn’t traditionally masculine enough.

Draco Malfoy? See Dudley, but toss in “upper-class posh aristocrat bully who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty so he has henchmen do it for him because he’s too rich for this sh-t”, would remind you of a few Christian Greys or Gatsbys.

Dolores Umbridge? Oh no, cat pictures, decorative plates, talks to teens as if they’re babies and PINK, SO MUCH PINK!!! So disgustingly feminine!!

Rowling very much frowns upon traditional gender roles - with Molly Weasley being an exception because Rowling feels very strongly about being a mother, and relates to Molly a lot.

Right - so, being a beautiful mess of paradoxes and contradictions (a “soft boi” who also punches bullies in the face, a fussy mother-hen who swears like a sailor, a tall athlete with badass scars on his arms who’s nurturing and sweet; in short, a wonderfully human character), Ron is obviously going to be a polarizing character. You painfully relate to him and get defensive when he’s criticized, you feel his characterization hits a bit too close to home so you hate him, or you disregard him completely because you can’t see anything “special” about him…

Now, onto another very, very sexist point that is often made.

People say that Hermione “deserves better” than Ron, often claiming that they “aren’t intellectual equals”, then citing Harry (who is mistaken as being some sort of slumbering genius but honestly, the kid is really a bit daft) or Draco (since apparently, being rich must equal to being intelligent) or, god forbid, Snape (because he’s a teacher and teachers are meant to be clever).

Soooo, I could go the loooooong way and pull out all the receipts that prove that none of these characters are perfectly intellectually matched to Hermione…

Or I could go the long way and simply give you this: this obsession with finding an “intellectual equal” for Hermione reflects the mentality of “women are not allowed to be better at something than their husband”.

Yep.

A woman has to be all-around pretty good at everything, whereas a man has to be the absolute best in his area of greatest competence (surely better than any puny female!) with a help-meet there to compensate for his weaknesses. People are very, very uncomfortable when Ron and Hermione reverse this dynamic. Hermione is extremely intelligent and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, but is complete pants at things like self-care and people skills. Ron is bright enough to keep up with her and strong in her areas of weakness.

Even if Ron was as dumb as a sack of rocks (he’s not), his other virtues are more than enough to “justify” Hermione loving him. (Because she needs an excuse?) But no. A woman has to be with a man who outdoes her in her area of greatest strength. - credit to @lytefoot

People don’t want Hermione to be with a man who’s her “equal.” They want her to be with a man who can be The Man so she can know the contentment of being The Woman.

But, with this sexist line of thought, how do we justify how Ron is supposed to be such a bad match for Hermione? Because if it was just about mere sexism, Romione would surely be more popular. Imagine! Ron happily raising the children, being a house-husband and proud of it, while Hermione is out there fighting for justice in the wizarding world! What a power-couple, defying norms and gender roles and not being the least bit conscious of it, prime OTP material for sure! So why do people still want Hermione to put Harry, Draco, or god forbid², Snape in Ron’s place? Is this an irrational hatred of redheads? An Harmionian’s delirious wet dream? A failure to separate the actors from their characters?

It’s all this and, quite frankly, something more: the inherent classism that comes with Ron’s status as an explicitly working-class coded character.

I know, I know, “Vivian! Calm down with the buzzwords, you’re starting to sound like an online pretend-feminist magazine!”

Or “Come on, people who don’t ship Ron and Hermione together aren’t all sexist or classist!”

Of course, of course! I know that! I’m not implying that!

But some of the “reasons” why they claim that Ron and Hermione can’t work - are extremely classist in nature, that’s just it!

Come on, think about it! What are the Number Ones arguments people always pull against Ron? Or the most common Ron-bashing tropes (look at fanfics and watch the number of stories that use at least one of those)?

Ron is stupid/mediocre

Ron is lazy/useless

Ron resents his wife’s hard work/success

Ron is a homophobe

Ron is a drunkard

Ron (the big prude who at 16 had never kissed a girl and sees a first kiss as the prelude to a wedding) is massively oversexed and cheats on Hermione with anything that moves

Not only do these “reasons” completely ignore ALL OF RON’S CHARACTERIZATION - except for the “lazy” bit but come off it, all teenagers are lazy and Hermione’s the exception to the rule - but it matches perfectly with the negative stereotypes associated with working-class white men in fiction.

It’s also very funny to note how many (assumedly middle-class or financially secure) fans look down on Ron for being “whiny” or “greedy” when he expresses the desire to have money of his own, or blame his parents for “not knowing when to stop” or “being irresponsible”, or even look down on them for being “too proud to accept help”!! Also how shocked people are when Ron dares to stand up for himself when Hermione or Harry act badly towards him. How dare this country boy not listen to the wisdom of his social “betters”?

So, obviously, because our Heroine can’t go with a Nasty, Mediocre Working-Class Man, she must be paired off with someone of Proper Status: say, a Hero that was raised in a middle-class home and might be a bit psychologically damaged but it’s nothing all those gold coins in his vault can’t fix; or this Rich Posh Aristocrat who actively rooted for her death, he’s a little bit eccentric and has some exotic pet-names to call you, but I’m sure you’ll learn to love him and will unearth the gold coins in his bank account… I mean, the heart of gold that lies within the surface; oh, why not a Way Too Big An Age Difference Teacher if you’re looking for a “cultured man” who has zero things in common with you; we can also bring Convenient Plot Device Famous Rich Foreign Athlete if you want some diversity and you don’t feel original!

But we can’t - oh, we mustn’t let her be with this Terrible Working-Class Boy! His brothers are fine, they have money, they have jobs, so they’re obviously Not As Mediocre. But let our precious Hermione be with this Just-Got-Out-Of-School hooligan? She can’t possibly be in love with him! You’ll see darling, you’ll get bored eventually! He’s too mediocre for you, you deserve a man who outclasses you - I mean, who can provide for you! You’re a fragile little flower who scars people for life when she’s not happy with them, what makes you think that this boy can possibly handle you even though he’s done so for the past seven years?

You wanted it, you got it.

People are shallow, have misconceptions about Ron’s character that they are unwilling to correct or use classist and sexist arguments to try to make it so that either Ron is the Devil himself / Hermione is a higher kind of being that can only orgasm if sufficiently “intellectually stimulated” / what-have-you.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #sexism #classism #hp meta #fandumb #hp fandom

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anonymouslyangsty · 3 years

Note

What’s your favorite talent swap?

I freaking LOVE Otaku!Mondo. Like oh so much. I’ve only seen one piece of art for it, but my god that art gave me feelings

I just imagine a situation where Mondo didn’t run the gang after the accident with Daiya. Maybe Daiya wasn’t totally able to save him, and Mondo got injured so badly that he wouldn’t be able to ride anymore.

Whatever the circumstances, I love the idea of Mondo getting really into fighting anime if he couldn’t ride with the Diamonds anymore. I can totally see him getting super into DBZ or Jojo, or something similarly manly and whatever.

And like, anime is all about that “with my friends, I can do anything!!!” and overcoming both mental and physical limitations. Maybe getting into anime could help Mondo get over some of that toxic masculinity of his and become a happier person.

Otaku!Mondo would still be loud and passionate, but definitely less angry. He wouldn’t have the same level of baggage canon Mondo has, so there’d be no need for all that aggression.

He still can totally kick your ass though. And very well might if you imply that he’s ‘less of a man’ for knowing that Sailor Moon is cool as hell.

So yeah! He’s a very extroverted, buff nerd and I adore that. Mondo but he went to therapy and got super into anime.

I can’t see him being an artist like Hifumi though, even though this is supposed to be a talentswap with the guy. Maybe he sculps those action figures instead? That seems more Mondo’s style.

Speaking of Talentswaps, I’d be remiss not to mention my eyebrow son. This is another one of those “nobody makes art of it but I like it” talentswaps, but I’m really a fan of the idea of Ultimate Popstar!Kiyotaka.

Like, it seems like such a absolutely terrible talent for him. Because Taka is notorious bad with people, how the heck is he going to deal with fans? But the fact that Taka wouldn’t naturally be good at it is part of the reason why I adore it so much.

Popstar!Kiyotaka would be the same hard working, rigid, studious kid as in canon. His studying material would just be different. Instead he’s studying how to be likable, what smiles are charming, what fashion is ‘hip’. Even if he doesn’t understand it, he knows how to act like he does

Taka NEVER does impromptu interviews. His managers get the questions in advance every single time. That way, a script can be made for Taka so the boy doesn’t ruin his public image.

Every interview, every public interaction, every movement is planned and pre scripted. Heck, they probably plant actors as ‘fans’ in the crowd to ask him questions. That way he stays in character and doesn’t look like he’s ignoring the people.

But without a script? He goes right back to that “What is a ‘normal conversation’?” nature of his. And without a script, because he’s terrified that he’s going to ruin everything by being his usual, boring self. Taka’s basically a full time actor with no ability to ad-lib.

I feel like Popstar!Taka would be far less confident than in canon. In canon, Taka is boldly and loudly himself. Sure he gets shot down sometimes, but he believes in himself and his values. And those values are going to improve the world, making it a place where the everyday man can succeed.

But Popstar Taka? He has the same high standards on himself, the same self blaming nature. But to him, his personality is a limitation. Because his manager has made it clear that he has to hide who he is to be liked and successful in his line of work.

And that’s a pretty fundamental change from canon Taka, so I think there needs to be a fundamental change to his backstory. I’m thinking he never got the chance to become truly dedicated to the idea of becoming Prime Minister.

Perhaps one of Toranosuke’s old ‘friends’ decides to do the Ishimarus a favor by offering a young Taka a position as a child star.

Yep. Totally out of the goodness of the man’s heart. He’s definitely not going to Taka because the Ishimarus are in an unstable financial position and will thus sign just about any contract. And if he went to Taka before Takaaki? Well, he just wanted to see the boy again. Totally wasn’t attempting to get Taka on board with the idea so the kid would convince his father.

So yeah Taka’s manager isn’t the best. He’s the one who told Taka that nobody would like him, so he has to work to be someone else on camera. He goes out of his way to break down Taka’s self esteem, which makes him far easier to control. There’s a lot of value in a star that’ll do anything you want.

So yeah. All of Taka’s passion goes into becoming likable, not being Prime Minister in this case. After all, that was just a childish dream, wasn’t it? He shouldn't be so selfish! What he really needs to do is work hard as a popstar to pay off his family’s debts!

He’ll keep going even if he hates it. Hates the loud music and how vapid he has to act on camera. Hates how he can never talk about politics. Hates how he feels like he’s lying to everyone about who he really is. He has to do it for his father. Because doesn’t his father deserve not to have to work himself to death just to survive?

Looking back, both Otaku!Mondo and Popstar!Taka take away a core part of the canon character, for better or for worse. Mondo isn’t as angry, and Taka isn’t as confident.

Also, one more mini bonus talentswap: Ultimate Breeder!Kazuichi. I know that’s pretty basic, but listen. There are so many animals that are brightly colored to signify that they're dangerous, even if it’s a lie to avoid predators. That's basically what Kaz did with his hair and attitude. And I just think that’s perfect

#taka #Danganronpa #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #talentswap #an ask tag

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

Snapshot Aesthetics

OKAY BUT FG WEEKEND? WHO’S CRAZY IDEA WAS THAT.

You better know I want to participate though xD I didn’t plan to have an entry for today but, well, things change lol

Day 1: Outfits

Rating: K

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Clover's job was simple: Get the model to pose properly, smile, and take the shot. But the new hire, Qrow, was about to throw a wrench into that simplicity... in more ways than one. [Fashion Model AU]

Ao3 Link: Snapshot Aesthetics

Snap!

The sound of his camera shutter going off was almost inaudible under the early morning hustle that had overtaken the studio. Clover inspected the shot of Elm displaying back on his LCD screen. He shook his head, calling to the stagehand, “Lower the forelights! There’s too much washout!”

“You got it boss.” She saluted, stepping off the scene to go tinker with the fluorescents.

Th telltale sound of stilettos had his head turning, seeing Willow striding over, lips pursed with annoyance. “Are we ready yet?”

“Almost.” He assured, showing her the picture. “Just a bit more tweaking on the lights and we’ll be good to go.”

She placed a hand on her hip, scanning the team critically. “Good.”

“Everything alright? You look…” He mulled over all his safe adjective options, “Unhappy.”

She sighed exasperatedly. “Qrow is causing a bit of a ruckus back in dress. Won’t let Kali even do his makeup.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what I was thinking, listening to Taiyang.”

“It’s probably because the new guy’s pretty.” And related to Raven, he thought but didn’t dare utter the runway model’s name aloud. If he did, then it would make his manager think of her ex-husband and Raven’s agent, Jacques Schnee. That was a nasty pandora’s box he’d rather keep closed.

Nevertheless, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time she hired someone simply based on an affiliation they had to someone in Jacques’ team, thinking it as some retroactive way of getting back at him. Taiyang himself was one such decision, also ironically due his connection with Raven. Though, he’d heard the two’s relationship had been more… carnal in nature.

The plus was, Taiyang had worked out great. He was handsome and jovial and easy to direct on set. Clover’s only hope when he learned of the new hire was that the same could be said for Qrow; but, it was sounding like he had his twin sister’s notorious diva-like personality, if Willow’s frustration was anything to go by. Which meant he was in for a long day.

“Light check!” Elm called, flexing both arms proudly like a muscle builder.

He snapped the shot, then nodded at the quality. “Perfect!”

Willow swiveled, heading for the door. “Let’s get started then.”

Over the course of the seven years Clover had worked for Trendy magazine, he’d discovered that each fashion designer had a specific ‘taste’ they were going for when it came to showing off their line-up and he’d learned to pose the models accordingly to keep their clients happy and coming back for each issue. So, he kept certain things in mind with each designer’s desires, like how Sienna preferred her poses to be as dynamic and wild as possible and Camilla wanted proper posture and a bit of elegance.

Unfortunately, today’s clothing line was from Roman and Neo. Which meant balancing the two designers’ conflicting requirements of flamboyance and subtlety into one picture. It tended to lead to a lot of small changes for limb placement and expression before he ever even rose his camera.

So, it tended to be a relief when the snap sounded off and he said, “Alright, you’re done!”

“Oh, thank god!” Tai slumped over immediately, rolling out his shoulders. “I think my neck has a crick in it.”

Clover snorted. “Alright drama king. Go take a break.” He turned towards the doorway, calling, “Who’s next up?”

He heard Kali’s faint, “Get in there. And stop messing with your hair!”

A gruff voice he didn’t recognize replied, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Before Qrow Branwen walked into the room and stole his breath away.

Though he’d joked before, Clover hadn’t actually known what the man had looked like. He rarely did see new models before their first shoot. But now that he was, it had to be said that maybe Willow had indeed hired Qrow simply for his beauty. In almost every way, he was like a softer version of his sister. Where her skin was striking alabaster white, his had more of a welcoming ivory tone. Where her eyes were bright scarlet, his were a gentle vermillion. And where her hair was an ink black, his held streaks of dusty grey that somehow was just enough to make him appear refined, but not old.

Combine that with Roman and Neo’s classy “modern early-1900’s” style, and he looked absolutely dazzling. It was one of their simpler pieces, but dress had made sure he wore it well, especially with the plain, long-sleeved, white dress shirt that someone had decided to undo the top few buttons off to frame a cross necklace hanging sideways. Pulled over that and adding some muted color was a double-layered vest that buttoned from the bottom of the ribs down. The inner layer was a slate grey while the outer layer was a deep charcoal and had a tasteful embroidery design flowing down the sides. The matching dark grey slacks were fairly standard but nicely fitting to the man’s ridiculously long legs. Completing the picture were some shiny cap-toed black dress shoes.

“So uh, how do you want me?” Qrow asked, fidgeting with the cross-shaped cufflinks of his shirt.

Splayed across my bed. Clover shook himself of any indecent thoughts, nodding towards the set that mimicked an old parlor room. “Center stage, leaning back on the table.”

He nodded, crossing the room.

As they passed each other, Tai offered a thumb’s up and a cheery, “Good luck!”

The little half-grin Qrow offered his friend left Clover floating.

Not that the other man was going to need any well wishes, as he’d decided on something fairly simplistic. As Qrow took position, he directed, “Alright, I want you to rest your hands on the table, in view. Keep your fingers spread out.”

“Like this?” He settled them by his hips.

“Mm no. Spread your arms further apart. Position your hands the other way, pointing opposite directions. Yeah – like that! A little more for the right hand. Relax your shoulders more. No, no not that much.” And on and on it went, as Clover altered each little angle and body part until he had the exact position in mind. Yet, despite the ease of what he was asking for, Qrow’s inexperience meant he had to spend twice as long getting things just right.

It quickly became clear by his 60th order that the older man was growing a bit exasperated.

Clover eyed him up and down. Hummed thoughtfully at the position of where his ankles crossed, the toe of one dress shoe pointed down. “Okay, tilt your left heel just a bit more.”

“Is all this really necessary?” Qrow grumbled, trying not to move anything else but his foot.

“When the client is picky, yeah. And stop clawing your fingers. Keep them flat.”

The other man breathed in and out slowly, carefully resting down his hands.

He gave him another once over. Frowned.

The tension he could easily see doubled as Qrow demanded, “What now?”

“Maybe we should try something different.” He considered.

The words were met with Qrow groaning out, “You got to be kidding me.”

And Willow cutting in, “Go with it. We got to get this shoot done before noon!”

He glanced at his wristwatch. Shit, was it really almost eleven? He still had four other designs to go. “Yeah, alright. Qrow, just try to relax your muscles a bit.” He rose his camera. “Alright, now smile.”

He did, stretching it as big as he could.

Clover looked at him over the lens, raising a brow. “I said smile, not look like you’re trying to imitate clown make-up.” Ignoring the other’s sarcastic laughter, he mulled it over, then snapped his fingers. “Ah, I know! Give me the same one you gave to Tai when you first walked in.”

He could tell it wasn’t quite right when it didn’t have the same cloud nine effect on him as before, but with the clock ticking in his head, he took the shot.

“Alright, that’ll do.” Clover said.

“We’re done?” Qrow asked, not moving an inch, as if worried he’d change his mind.

“Yep. You’re free as a bird.”

That earned him a real laugh. “That was awful!”

For the hell of it, he took another shot.

There was always such a sense of relief when Clover submitted the photos to processing. From there the team would do whatever touch ups were necessary before it went in for print. Normally, the rest of his day was done, but he had another engagement at a rally across town that would keep him busy well into the evening. So, he found himself stepping into the break room, intent on grabbing a cup of coffee and heading on his way.

He was surprised to find Qrow there, huddled in one of the corner tables. He was dressed down, back in his casuals, but still managed to make a t-shirt and some slacks look like runway material. They met gazes briefly, before the elder man’s eyes dropped back to his phone, not saying a word.

Already short on time, Clover was content to leave it like that, but as he finished mixing his coffee together, guilt seeped in. If they were going to be working together, then one of them had to take the first step and it was much harder for the new guy to take it.

“You did good today.” He spoke.

Qrow scoffed. “You kidding? I was a disaster.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be lucky if they ask me to come back.”

Ah. So, he wasn’t a snob - he was insecure. Clover could work with that.

“Ah come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He crossed the room, turning the opposite chair sideways and falling into it. “You’re just a little stiff. A few more of these and you’ll relax.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and take it a little easy on the people in dress.”

“They were trying to poke my eye out! Whoever invented eyeliner is a demon.”

He guffawed heartily. “It’s not that bad.”

Qrow sighed, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Still, I don’t know what I was thinking, letting Tai convince me to take this job.”

Seemed Tai was doing a lot of that lately.

“I’m not a model. That’s my sister’s gig. And…” Qrow gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it must get tiring getting all those calls from Mr. Universe asking you to come reclaim your crown.” He countered.

“Tch, if anyone’s got a crown to go reclaim, it’s probably you.” A second later, he seemed to realize what he said and hid his face in his hand. “Oh my god, I didn’t just- I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

Clover couldn’t stop grinning. “Relax gorgeous. You’re in the right business to be making comments like that.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t feel so bad, either. You’re not the only one self-conscious around here. Winter? Breaks out before every shoot. James? Has a scar right here.” He ran a finger above the line of his right eyebrow. “And by now, we’ve got to be giving Tai a complex with how much gets altered in processing.”

“He certainly had a lot to say about last month’s issue.”

“Well, you know, we gotta follow those trends and freckles are in.” He was sure there was a lot of talk on the questionable ethics of digitally changing people’s appearances to portray an unobtainable beauty, but it was a topic he wasn’t too interested in engaging with. In the end, it all just came down to the paycheck and keeping people’s jobs. Because if a model couldn’t sell the clothes they were wearing, then they weren’t going to get to keep modeling them.

Qrow leant back, crossing his arms. “Wonder how much they’ll change about me.”

“Well, they’ll definitely take out those cute wrinkles you get around your eyes when you laugh.”

“I wasn’t laughing?”

“Not in the first shot. But I may have…” He shrugged sheepishly. “Taken another one, right at the end? You looked more natural.”

Qrow blinked. “Well. Alright then. Guess that’s why you’re the expert.” His gaze drifted past Clover’s shoulder at about the same time he heard the footsteps. “Hey Tai. All done?”

“Yeah.” The blond replied as he stopped at their table, eyeing him suspiciously. “Hopefully the company flirt wasn’t giving you trouble.”

“Oh sunshine,” Clover drawled, playing it up as he bat his eyelashes at the other man. “I hope you know you’re my one and only.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Save it for the guys actually swinging your way.” He nodded to his friend. “Come on, we better get moving if we want to get the girls on time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow stood. “It was nice meeting you Clover.”

“Same here. Looking forward to working with you.” He replied sincerely. A pleasant little warmth tingled through him when the sentiment earned him an adorable smile.

As he watched him go, Clover cast his earlier worries aside and decided that this truly was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

#clover ebi #qrow branwen #fair game #fairgameweekend2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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springtimebat · 4 years

Text

The Deleted Darla Sunshine Interview

(This tape was discovered in the remains of the Little Patch of Heaven radio station, which had been abandoned sixty years before the expedition. It is labelled “Interview 1: Darla’s Darlings”. The date the audio was recorded is unknown but presumably between April and September according to the conversation contained. Research is still underway.)

[///Audio ready///]

Transcript:

Darla: So should I just sit here?

Interviewer: Yeah just over there. Here, bring the mic with you.

Darla: Yep okay. Ah this takes me back!

Interviewer: To...seven months ago?

Darla: Seven months seems so much longer than it really is sometimes. Feels like years since I’ve been in this room. But I was kinda thinking about Toby. Just a little bit.

Interviewer: Toby Walker?

Darla: Yes.

Interviewer: (Mumble) Do you still think about him? (rustle) I mean do you think about him often?

Darla: Sometimes. Not as much as I used to.

Interviewer: I'm just asking because before we start the recording I need to know if you feel uncomfortable with some of the material. It would be nice if you gave me a heads up you know? My superior doesn’t want me to put you off the wire.

Darla: Oh yeah sure I understand. Are there any questions about the Walkers?

Interviewer: No I just thought he would be mentioned at some point, seeing as he was a highlight in your career

Darla: I’m... I’m not sure that’s the right word.

Interviewer: Are you feeling comfortable? I have a structure to follow and we’ve already gone off schedule.

Darla: Oh I’m so sorry.

Interviewer: Leave amusing anecdotes ‘till later.

Darla: ...alright.

Interviewer: Appreciate it. I’m sure you’ll do fine. The wire’s running so just speak into the mic and it’ll get picked up.

(Squeak)

Interviewer: Right okay. So Darla Sunshine, congratulations on your show’s promotion to television!

Darla: Thank you! I can hardly believe it!

Interviewer: Would you be kind enough to tell us when Darla’s Darlings will be airing?

Darla: I believe the full version of The Horror-Couch will be on in January of next year, which seems like a really strange time to air it if you ask me. But…well Little Patch of Heaven’s studio is so fickle I can’t really guarantee that date anyway.

Interviewer: Oh? Why is the filming fickle?

Darla: We keep changing rooms, station hands, different material is being written without my knowledge. It’s all a real mess. I’m so used to it just being me and the occasional actor. Moving from radio to television has been quite-

(///audioFailure///*^///ResetING)

Interviewer: Very well. Let’s start on the questions. We posed an open letter questionnaire last march for any of your fans and we got an... overwhelming amount of replies back to say the very least! This should be very interesting…

(Rustling)

Firstly, how did you come up with the concept of your character?

Darla: Oh-well the Darla on screen is pretty much the person I am in real life. At least, how I used to be when I was younger. I like to think I’m a lot more subdued now. I was much more eccentric and loud when I was around twelve years old and I used to be obsessed with all sorts of gross things no one else seemed to like. I thought back once I got the job and realised that demeanor could make a great character so the Darla Sunshine you see on screen is kind of just an exaggerated version of me as a kid. The whole show’s kinda a joke on the people I grew up with too, particularly the women I grew up with. You know, women with hair bigger than their heads who sleep with their tupperware, live in aprons and have cocktail parties every weekend. I try to replicate that, but I’m completely messed up and I hold parties with monsters and cook with decapitated heads.

Interviewer: Very interesting. Someone had asked whether you go to the old arena in town at any point.

Darla: Oh! The pit?

Interviewer:... yes?

Darla: I used to go there a lot when I was younger. I really love the atmosphere! It’s just so loud and all encompassing! I haven’t gone in a while sadly but hopefully I can arrange a trip in the near future!

Interviewer: Great stuff. Now how was the interview process for the radio station like? We know you have a background in acting but you must have made quite a great impression since you were promoted within the first month of your employment. Given your own show and anything.

Darla: Oh umm…that’s quite a long story.

Interviewer: We have the next two hours.

Darla: Okay well my interviews were a complete disaster. Something always came up during them. Like, the first was just standard questions. Discussions about my past experiences, what I’d contributed and what I could contribute to the job there. I thought it was strange because, well, they knew me. But my interviewer looked really burnt out so I just went along with it. About half way through a large group of bats fell from the rafter above us and started to attack the guy. It almost gave me a heart attack but he seemed completely unfazed. He just held up an umbrella without so much as batting an eyelid. He apologised and told me he’d call me back after he’d taken care of the pest control problem. Two weeks later, he called me back for my second interview. It was a practice examination so I had to act out one of my skits. I think I did okay until I did a cooking segment I’d prepared for. The oven stopped working and the whisk lost control. It splatted green slime all over the walls instead of the cake mix I’d originally put in. The guy just apologised again and said he’d call once the problem was sorted out. Another three days later he called me back for the last interview. It was November and a blizzard had begun to form as I drove up to the station. It was freezing in the building but the interviewer was wearing a tank top and shorts. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were hollow. He didn’t look like he was there, if that makes any sense. He didn’t ask me any questions as far as I can tell, the interview was me guiding him back to his car. His back was all crooked and his legs stumbled along in the snow. I had to support him until he grabbed onto the dusty door of his truck. I thought he would just get in and drive off. But, instead, he turned to me. He looked... he just looked so dead. His face was more skull than skin and his shoulders shook so violently.

He turned and he said:

“I’d expect a call from the offices in about a week. It might be linger since the paper work will be put to the sidelines,”

“Yes sir,” I replied.

“We aren’t the most dedicated record keepers either,”

“I know sir. I’ve see my file in town hall,”

“Oh? Why?”

“My parents died when I was a kid,”

“Oh...well I won’t be here for a while. I’m going on vacation you see.”

“Oh, anywhere I know?”

“Nah,”

“Oh well- have a good time,”

I was about to walk away when he grabbed me with a shrivelled, old hand.

He said, “ The building doesn't like you,”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s good, don’t worry. The owners- they made a mistake bringing me here. Knock it into shape Darla,”

I didn’t know what to say so I just whispered, “I’ll try sir,”

“You know things are strange around here, don’t you ?”

I swallowed and said, “Yes I know,”

“People disappear,” he said, “Wolves walk the streets, carnivals steal our children…”

“Sir I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied. Because of course I knew. How could you not realise?

“Robert Morrison,” He said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“That’s my name. Remember it,” Then he got into his car, drove into the mountains and was never seen again.

(Sobs can be heard)

No one knew who he was. I was questioned but no one really cared. Not really. The case file was sponged after a week.

Interviewer: He was a nobody?

Darla: Yeah. After that, the owners looked for a replacement but eventually they just promoted me. They don’t even remember his name, you know? What’s your name?

Interviewer: Hannah-Marie.

Darla: Remember your name. It has power. I need to remember his name. I need to remember Nick Carlson.

Audio Failure

Press UNDERkey to follOW

Press under

KeY

To Folloow

System failure

System reboot in process

System triggered

System load

System ready

Audio failure

Audio restarted

Audio skip

Audio load

Audio ready

Audio start

system start

WIRE READY

Time: 1hr 34 m

[1:34]

Interviewer: You are one of the last radio shows to broadcast here anymore. With your jump to television, do you think the old station has been made obsolete?

Darla: I’m not really the person to answer that. I am and always have been an actor, first and foremost. When I got my show almost nobody was around so I had to learn how the different system works. It wasn’t a real passion of mine, machine maintenance. The radio was just a way of being able to perform. I don’t think we should just rule out the old ways as obsolete. When you watch my show later this year, you’ll see the storytelling, the humour hasn’t changed. I haven't changed at all. ‘cept now you can see my face. It’s not about the technology it’s about what you’re showing.

Interviewer: Would you say that about all your work?

Darla: Yes.

Interviewer: Including Toby Walker’s films?

Darla: Absolutely. Those films most of all.

Interviewer: I would think you’d be ashamed of them.

Darla: What have I done that is shameful? I did nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate. I was fourteen. He was twenty nine, almost thirty.

Interviewer: Did you not pick up on anything at the time?

Darla: Not at first. He was my director and I was one of his actors. I did as he directed me, just like everyone else did.

Interviewer: So you did as you were told?

Darla: Yes. Look what has this got to do with anything?

Interviewer: You stated that you’re not ashamed of taking part in a convicted predator’s body of work. The bulk of your career is made up of his films. I just think it’s a bit hypocritical.

Darla: That was years ago. I was a child. I did nothing wrong and I didn’t take part in any of it! If anything, they should show his films more often. To get people uncomfortable.

Interviewer: You want to shock people?

Darla: No I want to get them to think. Maybe that’ll stop it from happening again. It could help children going through what I did.

Interviewer: (unidentifiable mumble)

Darla: All I know is, when he did that to me, I had no one to help. No one to talk to. Then I met someone who stayed by me and it made a world of difference!

(Crying)

Darla: We need to stop. Can we stop please? I feel like I’m going to be sick!

[Audio has ended]

Delete file?

File Kept

Audio ready

[Audio starting]

On behalf of the Little Patch Heaven Film and Broadcasting Society,

We thank you for your cooperation and development

Viewing of this tape is strictly forbidden

Place the wire back into its filed location

And follow the Underkey outside the building

This way, the mayor will have confirmation that you are an official task officer who has authorisation to view the tape

Once outside, wave at the sky

It may seem like a silly action

But

Someone is watching you

Then carry on your way and forget all you have learned

Give respect to our fathers

Our mothers

Our Sons

Our Daughters

Blink at the man in the moon

Tape #235 is property of the Little Patch Heaven police

Any distribution of this audio will lead to immediate incarceration

UNLESS authorised

[///Audio has ended///]

#a devil's palm story #worldbuilding #creative writing #rough draft #horror #fictional interview #part of a larger project #fantasy #parallel worlds #oddcore #weirdcore #cryptidcore #voidcore

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 4 years

Text

Still chugging away at these summer and spring anime...sorry for the delay...(LOL, that rhymed without me meaning to.)

Also, I’ve been on the fence about whether to keep Golden Kamuy, since almost no one I read the reviews of follows it now and it’s a week’s wait (when accounting for my AniList challenge)...so I’m putting it on pause so I don’t have to suffer later.

Deca-Dence 4

“…who possesses the will to fight.”

…Great. Kurenai is absolutely tethered to Kaburagi in a one-sided love. Just when I thought Natsume had an independent role model to look up to.

Maou-jou 2

Oh, this is from Shonen Sunday? Didn’t know that until now.

“Demon Shroud: A demon with 99 clans. A cloth demon that puts on airs that it won’t be used before it’s finished off, due to its wonderful fabric. It is full of beautiful ghostly power, so its skin is smooth. However, the hero (who commonly uses things he finds in his surroundings) caught one, so now the princess has zeroed in on them. The princess doesn’t need the hands or the head of these demons, so it’s a cycle of killing and taking revenge for them. Their fighting style is squeezing the life out of things.”

Apparently, the teddy is acceptable, LOL.

I like how the window stopped displaying text at one point.

I saw someone with a huge plait in the ED. The queen, maybe…?

I noticed the laughs dropped off significantly in comparison to last time, but it’s still good. I can flex my translation skills even if I can’t laugh at one part.

Fruits Basket 2 24 (49)

…jumping to the 2nd-last episode in a season is pretty unprecendented, but I’m going to watch this for the sake of Jon’s Creator Showcase…then again, I need to finish this anime anyway, so it’s just cutting and changing the order for something I already know the outcomes of.

I used to lose myself in movies so much that I would lose all sense of who I was and would have to “regain the bearings of myself”, so to speak. I would have to reconstruct who I was, even though I technically hadn’t “been broken” and I knew once I did that, it felt different. Like I’d travelled through time and past me would never be the same as present me. That’s why I kind of get what Machi means.

Oh, I didn’t listen to this OP much…probably because I’m emphasising bingeing the spring and summer series I left behind and now that I can skip the ads on most of my anime, I’m leaving behind the anime I’ll be slower on.

The manga was written when there weren’t as many cell phones around, much less smartphones.

Rin’s on bad terms with everyone…

…if I remember the year of the dragon correctly, the last one was 2012, then the one before that is 2000…around the turn of the millennium, huh? Froob is showing its age here, albeit unintentionally.

Now that I’m closer to the Musketeers’ age, I can kind of empathise with their scenes a bit more.

“If I always blame someone or something, I’ll never change.” – True. I realised I’ve been a bit too haughty lately (what with the HypMic anime going on and it being the first thing I could research extensively before the anime’s debut, my feelings are of course reaching fever pitch – combine that with continued COVID lockdown and you get me being all defensive of HypMic, for better or for worse) and so I may have acted like a jerk to someone, but since I only know them online and generally when I try to apologise to people online they don’t see the things I apologise for as things in need of apology, I know the fault lies with me to rein myself in. I guess this means changing yourself is the only way to move forward.

I wonder how Hatori did his doctor training while avoiding hugs from girls who aren’t Sohmas…?

Shigure vs. Gentaro (of HypMic, of course)…a writing competition! That would be fun.

…Crow’s note here makes sense (<- this is why I changed the order). Shigure was clearly asking a question there.

Come to think of it, HypMic and Froob have some similar characters. The stoic doctor is Hatori/Jakurai, the energetic smol one is Momiji/Ramuda, the teasing author is Shigure/Gentaro…that could make for some good fanfic material, really.

Magatsu 1

…that title is an absolute killer, man. Anyways, I’m here for the director, who also worked on Hataraku Maou-sama.

Is this a no guns thing, like IWGP is a no drugs thing?

…this OP has lyrics?! I just hear strange squeaky noises, the kind you hear on some autotuned sogs to make them seem more ominous (I can’t remember if there’s a similar sound in G-Anthem of Y City or Yokohama Walker, but one of the MTC songs has similar noises).

I kinda guessed Leo’s package was the one Schaake and her partner were looking for. I was right.

That CGI (on the truck) is…kinda conspicuous.

These backgrounds are gorgeous.

“The definition of in dubio contra reum is "in doubt, against the accused", meaning that, where there is doubt, the accused in a trial is not given the benefit of that doubt; they are assumed guilty.”

I wonder: how many protagonists start out as absolute wimps, unwilling to fight because they either know or don’t know their own power? It’s a pretty standard introduction for things with fights.

This battle track is nice. I listened to some of the Magatsu music under Masaru Yokoyama’s name on Spotify and it’s pretty cool, but since it’s background music, there’s not a lot of demand to listen to it (from me or anyone else, I don’t think).

Why is there only a single shield if they know the enemy has heavy artillery?

…what the heck is a Zeits? Update: You can see a “Zeits” (or however it’s spelt) in the credits list, suggesting Zeits is a character in this.

I knew this was my last premiere and this might have made or broken my entire watching schedule, but this is just a pretty down-to-earth premiere for a fantasy mobile game. While that cliffhanger compelled me to continue, I don’t think it’s good enough to beat its competition in the long run.

IWGP 2

I know I said Magatsu was my last premiere, but just to be sure, I’m watching this one.

This dance scene is beautifully orchestrated. The fact there’s no music means you focus entirely on the motion.

The OP seems to trade more in colour and spectacle than actual “cool factor”.

…wow, $2.90…? That’s some cheap food.

You know I hate 1st person cam with a passion, right? So…uh…

Eyyyyyyyy…this is basically McDonald’s, curry style.

I think I can almost see Ichiro of HypMic in how the G-Boys seem to mostly be reformed delinquents or actual delinquents.

…yeah, but what’s your name, random messenger guy? Update: We find out later his name is Isogai.

“It’s because I suck at working and communicating.” – Yep, that me.

Ikebukuro licence plate. I still have no idea exactly what places get licence plates in Japan.

There are actually 2 characters before “Hospital”, but no one confirms the reading of those characters…which is probably why they’re omitted.

…oh gosh, if this were a BL, Mitsuki and Masaru would be star-crossed lovers…*sigh*

Maybe it’s an unrelated 3rd party??? (In mysteries, you can never dismiss the work of a 3rd party.)

You can tell exactly which group is which based on the colours they wear. Makoto isn’t affiliated with anyone, so he’s wearing black and had yellow earlier.

I think an anime is cowardly – or trying to save budget – if they deliberately choose an angle where they can’t show the moment of impact clearly.

E! News, LOL.

Archangel, huh? So like a 2nd in command?

I think IWGP is moving in the direction of pushing the gangs against each other in the way Makoto describes in ep. 2.

As for what I think of it now, it's decent if you want something down-to-earth, but it seems to be missing some kind of "wow factor". Like it's afraid to commit to deeper characterisation, even though it has Makoto as the ostensible lead/viewpoint character.

Koi to Producer 11

“Cognitive Science Association” - I thought it was the Cognitive Psychology Association…? (Psychology is shinrigaku, science is kagaku.)

My boy (Lucien)…why must you be so evil??? Why do I keep falling for the tall but mysterious doctor??? (<- guilty as charged re: Jakurai)

…that’s some funky seatbelts.

What’s that look in Victor’s eyes…? Fondness, or something more…?

…ah, so there is “Science” in the place’s name. It was just being less loosely translated then.

Oh dang. Stuff escalated really fast, huh?

You actually set this in 2020, huh, staff? What happens ten years from now and people watch it, only to realise 2020 and 2030 aren’t so different? That’s what happened when people had the Y2K bug.

That yellow sign on the side says “exit”. It’s not of any use.

That’s not a recoloured Kiro, is it? It’s not Shaw, either (who I think we saw somewhere in the previous episodes)…so then who is it?

…geesh, they even changed Helios to Ares. I guess it makes sense: Helios is the god of the sun, but Ares is the god of war.

Koi to Producer 12 (FINAL)

I read on the wiki Lucien’s power is copying powers. No wonder I couldn’t get a solid handle on it!

So that Helios wasn’t a mistake in the credits list in the previous episode???

Can we even hear what Helios says when Protag-chan is pulled away? Based on the lack of subs, probably no, but I wanted to ask anyway. (Or maybe he said “Watashi”, since that’s the pronoun Protag-chan goes by?)

…so that really is Kiro, huh?

Military…what? When did Protag-chan’s father have a military squad???

LOL, at the very end you can see Gavin gesturing at Greenie (the pot plant, presumably a succulent). I logged on to the game 7 days straight (they have a Discord channel!) and got a Gavin R card with Greenie on it, which is how I know about it.

Anyways, that was a fun show. Not the best, but still fun.

HypMic 3

*snickers* Just look at my boi! He’s so tall, he has to bend down for kids! (I don’t mean that teasingly, I mean that endearingly, but lately I’ve been no good at expressing myself…Must be the lockdown.)

If TsudaKen was a guest last time, then Degarashi and Irihatoma could be voiced by guest seiyuus too…

What is Jakurai, hmm? (A Transformer, LOL?...I’m kidding, of course.)

All I knew about this episode going in was that it was an MTR episode. Maybe they’ll cover the stalker story from the manga…?

More literally, Hifumi’s sign says “will you monopolise me until morning?”. This reminds me of the MTR truck one of the servers I was in was talking about…it looked like a giant billboard.

“The most notable thing about Doppo is that he has no notable characteristics.”…and yet, he’s still one of the most popular characters of the series.

Suddenly, HypMic becomes a mystery…? I’ll take it!

Yup, “Doppomine” is now confirmed as “Doppo-chin”.

If all the mysteries I’ve consumed say one thing, it’s “never forget there might be someone out there with a grudge against you willing to pin a crime on you”…or alternatively, “never forget there may be an unrelated 3rd party who would be willing to pin a crime on you”.

These guys (Tom etc.) are just food critics, I swear…(LOL)

Oddly enough(?), googling “Shinjuku waffles” reveals there are several waffle places in Shinjuku…you wouldn’t expect so many waffles away from the home of waffles (probably Belgium), but there you go.

All the results on Shinjuku French toast point to this Café Aaliya (give or take an H at the end). Apparently, it’s so popular, people line up for it on weekdays.

Oh, so Tom’s a (street) photographer…what are Iris and Rex then?

The CGI on that car looks really bad, man. It may be dark to disguise it, but it still looks bad.

Jakurai’s dad car strikes again!...Was it white? I don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure it was a lighter colour than this.

I was quite worried about how much swearing they were going to throw in the MTC episode, but then…they kicked it down a week. So…start worrying about next week, folks!

I…thought he would call Jyuto for some reason. (giggles) I’ve never seen Samatoki look so happy in relation to Jakurai, but maybe that’s because he’s just chilling. (Or maybe he was meant to have a neutral but slightly happy face and they messed up the angle. I know I do that sometimes in fanart.)

There’s Jyuto, right on cue…LOL, that kick to the guts was so random it became epic!

Uwabami…what sort of snake is that, again? *checks* Giant snake. That’s no help. (That host could have a guest seiyuu too.)

Ooh, I’m fairly sure that’s an automatic car.

Jakurai went Jitsu wa kyoumi bukai desu ne?. “Fascinating” isn’t a wrong translation, but they did forget “In fact…” or “Really…” from the start and possibly the “?” at the end (depending on interpretation). Update: It might actually be Jitsu ni, but same deal.

They struttin’ down Kabuki-cho all fancy-like…Doppo sure does get a lot of punchlines, though.

This random guy at the club could also have a guest seiyuu…

…what’s with the random Tahoma?

…oh, hey. If Hifumi’s jacket acts as a security blanket of sorts against women and he gave it to Doppo for extra warmth (presumably), then…he’s trying to protect Doppo, even in his own sort of unique way.

Mimimi vs Hifumi? This is gonna get confusing…(hey, did they actually make a flourish noise when Hifumi put on his jacket? Does the distinction need to be that clear…?)

…see, never forget the presence of an unrelated 3rd party.Wait, so we have motive…what’s the relationship of Mimimi and the dude she killed? Who is that dude? Update: We find out later.

Notice Mimimi says “Hifumi-kun” – she’s still on an outside layer compared to Doppo, who just uses Hifumi’s name. Also, I noticed Mimimi called herself Hifumi’s “onna” – “woman” – explicitly, as if she belonged to him. The subs reflect that, but it seems to have less meaning in English because they outright translated it as such.

Well, they got to demonstrate Doppo’s snapping. I’m more than happy with just that. Also, Hifumi calls Doppo with a -kun here.

LOL, this song is gonna be known as “catchy”, ain’t it? Anything with an easy-to-sing-along chorus like “nananana” is. Update: Or maybe not even a chorus, it’s just lyrics.

Hmm…I noticed the “use Mr with me” line isn’t actually reflected in the subs, but the lyrics are so fast, I don’t know how they are reflected.

Did you notice the da in the lyrics in romaji?

…and s*** goes ka-blooey, as you’ve come to expect by now.

Mimimi-kun…?

Oh, so the background from Hypnosis Mics can get caught in photos? I never thought of that.

It’s almost as if they’re nodding at the Doppo fans through the 4th wall regarding his appeal.

It seems they’re not switching out this Buster Bros track, which is…okay, but I was hoping for an MTR ED. (Tofubeats was on this track IIRC and the anime website didn’t list a future ED, so that’s why I’m okay with it.)

…Okay, so Irihatoma is Mutsumi Iwanaka, who’s a rookie in the seiyuu world. *goes to consult Anime News Network*

Oh! Mimimi Hibakari! I get it! (It means “me, me, me all day” when written differently to her name.)

Uwabami was Shugo Nakamura and Degarashi was Mitsuaki Hoshino. I’ve never heard of these guys – except for Nakamura’s role as Teru in Idolm@ster Side M – so it’s interesting they contrasted TsudaKen with them…eh? Heilong? Whossat? (Probably the guy whose…parts…almost got crushed by Jakurai with a billiards cue.) This Hiroya Eto is even more underground than those guys.

A-hah! Today’s new song is “WELCOME U” (that’s how it’s spelt, don’t diss me for it!) by Kohei from SIMONSAYZ.

Update: I thought that kid at the beginning was Yotsutsuji, so it scared me for a second.

#simulcast commentary #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnosis Mic #HypMic #ikebukuro west gate park #IWGP #deca-dence #Fruits Basket #maou-jou de oyasumi #sleepy princess in the demon castle #magatsu wahrheit #Koi to Producer: EVOL x LOVE #Chesarka watches Koi to Producer #Mr Love: Queen's Choice #Chesarka watches Furuba #chesarka watches deca-dence #Chesarka watches HypMic #Chesarka watches Maou-jou

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grumpyalpacaman · 4 years

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Nexus Notes - Chapter One

"I already told you, you big dumb bastard, that energy core regulator isn't worth 3,000 Credits. It's not even close!" The young woman slammed her hands down on the clerk's table. Her eyes set in a narrow glare, she scowled between loose strands of bright red hair that fell in front of her face.

Behind the ramshackle stand of partially gnawed scrap metal stood the enormous shopkeeper. The device she so coveted was tightly gripped in his huge, clawed hand. Dangling cables swayed to and fro and the polished chrome casing reflected the blinding glare of the sun.

The taurus were the inhabitants of the planet Kakataka in the Aldebaran star system and the largest, most cantankerous of all sentient species in the galaxy. They were also notorious hoarders.

It erupted in a flurry of guttural growls, its ruddy brown scales rapidly scraping and clattering against one another to create a series of accompanying clicks. The chattering noises he emitted elicited a whir of life from a machine strapped to his broad, tapered chest. The gadget lit up and started to translate in a low, robotic voice.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Nexus. This a rare treasure. There is nothing else like it on Pantainos."

"Zakka, you are so full of shit," she said, as she reached into her lab-coat and withdrew a small pair of oval-shaped glasses. Slipping them over her nose, she peered past the imposing, alien shopkeeper to the staggering pile of discarded mechanical trinkets and components behind his kiosk. “I can see two more in the back from here!” Frantically, she removed her glasses and stuffed them back into her coat.

"3,000 credits or no regulator."

The young woman stood up as tall as she could and crossed her arms over her chest in her best attempt to look authoritative. She was short and scrawny by human standards, not to mention leaning on a cane and absolutely minuscule compared to the seven-foot monster before her. "Listen here, you idiot, you have no idea what that's worth to me and you're just going to eat it anyway! So hand it over for a fair price and stop impeding scientific progress."

Without warning, the shopkeeper opened his jaws for the first time, the lower portion of his face splitting into two and spreading out in a slavering, triangular maw. Then, he chomped into the device in his hand. His shredding teeth crunched and tore the metal apart with ease as he ripped off a chunk and swallowed it before hurling the remnants straight at Nexus's head.

With only a moment of shock, she narrowly ducked under the incoming projectile. The move sent her stumbling and she barely managed to catch herself with her cane to avoid an untimely fall, face-first onto the cold steel ground. If the yelling earlier hadn't drawn the attention of the other merchants and customers that populated the market, this certainly would. Within moments, Zakka had dunked one of his whopping lizard paws into a pile of scrap parts and used it as a shovel to hurl yet more junk at the girl.

"Whoa! Is this how you treat all your regulars?" Head held low, she scurried away from the bellowing Taurus. Gears and batteries skittered across the ground and peppered her lab coat. One unfortunate stray something or other even bounced harmlessly, but no less annoying, off of her forehead. "Zakka, you Lunatic," she yelled as she departed the market square.

She looked back over her shoulder more than once on her way back to her apartment, just to make sure there wasn't an angry alien reptile behind her. It wasn't until she was nearly three blocks away that she stopped to catch her breath, leaning against the wall of a building and wiping her brow with the sleeve of her coat. Just from that short run, her muscles ached and her chest burned with exertion. "I left my apartment for that damn regulator and the dumbass took a bite right out of it," she said between gasps. “Still, I hope nobody calls the police on him. He may be a seven-foot, spiky asshole, but he’s still got the best stuff in the entire city. And perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t ask ridiculous questions like, ‘what are you gonna do with this?’ or ‘do you have a license for this highly unstable radioactive material?’”

She spent nearly a minute bent over and panting before rising back up and fanning out her coat to relieve some of the intense heat. “What I would do for a breeze right now. Just a little one.”

Pantainos City, built in the most habitable, lush part of the colony planet for which it was named, was in Nexus's own words, "Too damn hot in the Summer to be conducive to intellectual pursuits." So then why, she often wondered to herself, had the United Earth Federation decided to build its premier academies here? Pantainos was one of the UEF's earliest and most prosperous colonies and had become a grand centre for training and education in the past several decades. Academies and accompanying campuses for humanity's most prestigious schools in the fields of science and military had developed here and dominated much of the city. The best and brightest across all of UEF space were sent here to learn.

But far from the glamorous universities and labs at the city's centre, Nexus walked along the ill-tended streets at the fringes of the sprawling metropolis as she made her way home with a scowl on her face. Not that her neighbours could tell the difference between her usual scowl and today’s, extra perturbed scowl.

The moment she stepped into the lobby of her apartment and felt the cool, temperature-controlled air hit her face, she let out a long sigh. The familiar sights of the dusty floor, the seemingly permanent ‘out of order’ sign on the secondary elevator and the ever-expanding patch of mould on the far wall were just about the only means through which she could differentiate this and every other apartment building on the black. Nexus whispered a silent thanks to the closest thing she knew to a religious figure, Joey the maintenance guy, that one of the two lifts remained operational. If given the choice between the stairs and sleeping on the crumbling bench in the lobby, Nexus would have to spend some time seriously weighing her options.

With only a brief stutter of resistance, the elevator ascended to the second floor and deposited her in the hallway to find yet another annoyance. "Great. If the heat and the taurus weren't bad enough, some ass-clown piled a bunch of boxes in front of my door!" she thought. For some reason or another, cardboard shipping boxes of varying sizes, piled six high, stood right up against the entrance to her apartment.

Without another thought, she stomped forward and delivered a swift, hard kick with a flip-flop clad foot to the side of the box mountain. Much to her chagrin, the pile barely moved. So, she took a step back and shoulder checked it with the entire, fairly insubstantial, weight of her body and this time she sent it tumbling to the floor with an appeasing clatter. She grinned down at her handiwork, hoping there was something both fragile and valuable within.

The commotion brought someone running almost immediately as a man stepped out of the open door across the hall, looking concerned. His expression promptly shifted to surprise and confusion as he spied Nexus standing over the upended pile of his belongings.

If he put on a uniform, he'd look like he walked right out of a military recruitment ad for the Federation. She thought immediately of a very large and very stupid dog. He was like a man-shaped golden retriever and just as blonde.

"Did you knock over my boxes?"

"Oops," she replied with a shrug as she reached for the keycard in her pocket.

"The hell, lady? I keep important stuff in those."

"Well then maybe you shouldn't keep 'em in front of my door." By this point, she was already daydreaming about punching him in his stupidly handsome face. Though she was pretty sure she’d break her hand on that square jaw.

He furrowed his brow and attempted to speak up but upon noticing the cane in her hand, he suddenly became very stiff and cast his eyes toward the floor. "Uhm... Sorry," he said as he kneeled and started to gather up his things, shuffling them out of the way for her. "So that's your apartment then?"

"Yep, 37B," she said with the absolute most disinterest she could muster while jabbing a thumb toward the numbers posted behind her.

With an armful of boxes, he stood back and extended his free hand toward her. "I'm just moving in next door. I'm Parker Walsh."

Her eyes drifted back and forth between his hand and his face for several seconds. "Are you suggesting I make physical contact with you?"

"Generally speaking, an offer to shake hands with someone would imply that, yes." Yet more confusion was starting to creep into his voice.

"Ew.” Rolling her eyes, she turned, swiped her card over the electronic lock and stepped into her apartment.

"Ouch," he shot back. "Can I at least have your name?"

"Nexus," she said as she slammed the door behind her.

"There is no way that is your real name," he yelled with his lips scant inches from the door but to no response.

"Parker?" said another man, sticking his head out of the open apartment. He was thinner and less chiselled than his friend but with a sly, fox-like countenance. "What are you doing out here?"

Parker shrugged. "Neighbour girl kicked over our boxes."

"And so you quit unpacking to come out here and flirt with her?"

"Not at first."

"But you did flirt with her?"

"She didn't even give me a chance. It’s just not fair."

"My heart aches for you, brother. Now get back to work. We need everything set up by tomorrow."

"On it." With boxes in hand, he started back toward his apartment, taking one glance at the door behind him as he went. "Well then. See you around, Nex."

The moment she stepped inside her apartment and flicked on the lights, she felt her legs start to shake. She grumbled softly, finally allowing herself to wince at the constant pain she felt in her muscles and eased her body into the wheelchair lying in wait by the door.

Inside her apartment, where one might normally find furniture, decorations or just about anything, Nexus had cables, power generators and several large processors stacked against the wall. In the corner sat a desk with a pair of computers, razor-thin glass panes mounted on swivelling stands. Nexus produced a third, smaller device from inside her coat. With a few swipes on the surface, her chair wheeled itself over to the desk. Once situated, she began sliding her fingers across the dual screens and they came alive with images and information. Her eyes darting back and forth between them. Within arm's reach of her chair sat the single greatest scientific achievement of mankind, an espresso machine. The divine tool was accompanied by a mountain of discarded flavour pods, generally counting among the excessively sweet variety. Though that didn’t stop Nexus from addition several more teaspoons of those godly white granules once the machine had finished its business.

All this technology (save the espresso machine) was connected to a strange, ceiling-high object in the middle of the room. The device occupied the vast majority of the available floor-space. It appeared to be a huge mechanical ring of some kind; that stood eight feet high and across. At the moment, it was deactivated.

She looked upon the centrepiece of her chamber briefly, shook her head, and returned to her work. "Damn Zakka, always a pain in my ass."

It wasn't long before she noticed she had an update on her post on the local University forums. She wasn't exactly a student, but where else was she going to share her hypotheses?

"Oh fantastic, this idiot," she said with mock excitement when she saw who posted. "Hello, Student 681966, a man so boring he uses his student ID as his screen name." Nex skimmed over his latest dull refutation of her work and rolled her eyes.

"Your ridiculous idea of a potential intersystem artificial intelligence program has no bearing in modern computer science. Even the most simple-minded of your species is aware that software is limited by hardware.

You persist in the idea that your entirely theoretical sub-space processor would alleviate this issue and allow a program to move freely between systems, but this has in itself a litany of issues. There is no evidence to support the idea that information can travel freely between sub-space and normal space. How do you propose such a device would maintain a fixed location within sub-space? In addition, the power requirements would be astronomical.

Fixed sub-space pockets have never been found to be a remote possibility and tests have resulted in failure, every single time. The only possible use for sub-space is point A to B travel through fixed gates."

With a guttural groan of frustration, Nexus swept a hand back through her sweat-matted hair. "This guy has no imagination."

Reclining in her chair steepling her fingers, Nex pondered the list of possible rebuttals. Everything from explaining the potential power of a flywheel energy storage system in the absolute vacuum of sub-space or reference to the sub-space tests performed by Earth scientists decades earlier that implied the possibility of direct access to sub-space beyond simple two-way passages. However, when she received a sudden response from a rather important contact, she decided to let her opposition stew for a little while.

Anxiously, she opened the message with a tap of her finger and pulled the contents up on-screen.

"I have acquired the information you requested."

That alone was all she needed to send her mind alight with fireworks. There was some more afterward about releasing the hold on the promised payments and how to contact him again. She absent-mindedly tapped out an affirmative response and delved into the attached files with all haste possible.

A few weeks ago she'd contacted someone who claimed to have worked on some classified Federation experiments performed on Pantainos. She'd been making a few inquiries about them and they had become a subject of great interest to her, even though they never got off the ground. What they were attempting to develop and why it failed is still unknown to this day, but Nexus's digging had told her that it had something to do with personal-sized sub-space gates, as opposed to the massive rings that transported ships across the galaxy.

"I was right," she muttered to herself after nearly twenty minutes of poring over the contents. "Schematics, test results, dates and locations."

She gleaned from the notes that they had managed to design a miniaturized sub-space gate, though from what she could find, it wasn't able to sustain itself before collapsing after only a few seconds. Several pages appeared to be missing, including details of who was involved and the purpose of the experiments, but all the technical data she needed was right here in these files.

Again she gazed upon the massive mechanism in the centre of her apartment, this time with new excitement and rattling nerves. She bit her lip and considered her options before giving a small nod of affirmation. "To hell with the regulator, I've got work to do."

She wheeled over to the huge ring and pushed herself out of her chair. For hours she consulted the new specifications and adjusted her machine. Multiple trips were made back and forth between the device and her computer and she went through around a dozen cups of coffee and sixty teaspoons of sugar. She scoured every crate of spare parts she had lying around (which was no small number) and the clamour of her tools filled the apartment until the early morning.

She awoke with a start around noon the next day. She had passed out in her wheelchair with a collection of her tools sprawled across her lap and around her wheels. She yawned, grumbled and rubbed the sleep from eyes shadowed by black bags.

Blinking rapidly, Nexus looked at her device, consulted the schematics and then back to the device. It was a match. Better than a match even. She felt she'd improved on the old schematics. "I did it?" She brushed back a tangle of red hair and chuckled to herself. "Of course I did it."

Still coming to, she mumbled out a few commands. "Computer, begin recording a new log now. " A small robot, not unlike an ambulatory tripod, came alive. There was a lens built into the machine’s head, which promptly veered in Nex’s direction.

She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled toward the terminal mounted at the edge of her ring-like device. "Sub-space portal NG Model-1, test 27, sans energy core regulator. Upgraded system to further compensate for the Verdricci effect. Added new subsystems to target a specific location within sub-space, based on new research documents. No more firing off randomly. Begin activation now."

Triumphantly, she punched in the key sequence to start up the machine and listened with glee as it whirred. Lights flickered on around the ring and sparks coursed across the empty space in the middle.

Staring into her would-be sub-space gate, Nexus's hands shook excitedly. "Alright UEF, let's see what you were up to."

The machine's laboured noises intensified and she could feel a charged tingle on her skin. Then, all at once, a disc of torn space appeared inside the ring, contained and stable. Her smile vanished, only to be replaced by a slack jaw and wide eyes. The sight beyond the portal sent shivers through her body and made her stomach churn. Floating in the vast emptiness of sub-space, was a cylindrical device surrounded by lifeless human corpses.

#science fiction #sci-fi #writing #novel #nexus notes

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch.44

Happy Tuesday, Everyone! I am pleased to announce that this chapter has been beta’d by @parisconstantine this time... I know, right? I’m working on getting back ahead of things, since March and April pretty much ate my buffer chapters.

I promised some of you that Simon not having Miys help him with social interactions would have some pretty hilarious repercussions, and hopefully I do not disappoint with this chapter. Also, we get to see a bit more of our favorite grumpy-puss, Alistair Worthington (created by @baelpenrose), and a little more of his personality beyond ‘total grouch’.

My new Administrator was thrown almost immediately into the thick of things. Simon had taken my suggestion to try interacting with people sans Miys proof ‘reading’ his conversation; this alone led to social gaffes by the minute, to the horror of the man newly forced to work in close proximity with us. Tyche, for her part, wasted no time in making it clear that she was no longer my acting Administrator, first by uploading my entire calendar to the former archivist’s data set and spending about an hour showing him how to set up the alerts necessary to ensure he was constantly one step ahead. New items and requests were directed to him, even while he was working to get on top of existing commitments. To top it all off, he had come on board in the midst of the Food Festival planning, which included coordinating with Sebastian Reed for the grand opening of his pub.

Alistair Worthington rose to the occasion like he had been born to do it.

“Why have humans never quite evolved the understanding that the word ‘no’ is a complete sentence,” he grumbled rhetorically. It had been only ten days since his replacement took over in the Archives, and only nine since he started devoting nearly fifteen hours a day to getting caught up.

“What is it this time?” I asked, more out of curiosity than any concern that he had declined something without even asking my opinion. Worst case, I could override his decline.

He simply glared at me. “One of the vendors for the Food Festival is adamant on being positioned between the halal and kosher vendors.” I gestured for him to go on, since that alone was not cause for alarm. “Miss Reid – “

“Sophia,” I interrupted. “We are going to be working entirely too closely together, so I prefer you call me Sophia.”

“Sophia,” he conceded with a chagrined look. “They want to set up a bacon buffet.”

I choked on the tea I had been taking a sip of, sputtering inelegantly all over the floor – fortunately missing Alistair. “That’s pretty brave.” I gasped, trying to convince my lungs that the tea was gone.

He shook his head and held out a cloth to wipe my face with. “Survived an assassination attempt, only to be felled by a cup of ginger tea. Your epitaph will be set the standard for decades to come.” As I fought to glare at him and smother a laugh, he continued. “I understand that all meat products on the ship are artificially constructed from protein banks, and therefore everything will be kosher, halal, and vegetarian, but that is quite beside the point. It’s rude.”

“I completely agree,” I conceded, holding my hands up in a peaceful gesture. “The entire point of the festival is to bring everyone together with respect and unity, which putting a pork palace between those specific vendors is most certainly not doing. My question is who even approved a ‘bacon buffet’ in the current climate? I love bacon as much as the next pork-eater, but come on!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “With all the terrorists who were just executed, it’s just tacky!”

Rather than answer immediately, he dug through the vendor’s application. With a groan, he flicked the file over to me. I echoed his sentiment when I saw the approver. “That explains a lot,” I sighed before looking up at the ceiling. “Simon, did you really approve a bacon buffet for the festival?”

The response was nearly immediate. “Yeeesssss?” he answered uncertainly. “It sounded like a delicious idea. Lots of people are really passionate about bacon, and did you see some of the flavors? Cayenne and tupelo honey, Sophia! It sounds amazing!”

My assistant looked like Simon had just asked him to eat waste materials. I just ground my teeth and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Simon. Why are we having this festival?”

“Ship’s unity,” he responded suspiciously.

“And why do we need that?”

“Because some people tried to sabotage the ship and kill everyone on board?”

“Correct. And what were those people?”

“Terrorists.”

“True, but not what I’m looking for. Arantxa Bidarte was…” I trailed off, praying he would figure out what I was getting at.

“A high-ranking – ohhhhhhhhhh. Shit.”

“Yep, a high-ranking shit. In the Baconist movement.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I wasn’t thinking clearly on the optics.” He really did sound contrite. I knew he was trying, so I wasn’t going to be hard on him.

“It’s okay,” I sighed. “I know you didn’t mean to do something like that. And we can fix this. How about you tell him you reconsidered his offer, and due to recent events we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to have an entire alcove dedicated to just bacon. However, there are several vendors who will be serving items that can include bacon, and we will happily put him in touch with all of them to let them feature some of his wares in their dishes, including advertising.” Alistair hummed and nodded in approval at that compromise. “And Simon? Before you send that, reach out to Sebastian with the entire list of this guy’s bacon flavors. Let him have first dibs. From what I’ve seen of the food he’ll be serving, he has a great mind for flavors and will probably have a dozen ideas before he even finishes reading the list.”

“You just want that sundried tomato and basil bacon in a Bloody Mary,” he accused playfully.

“You know it, because you do too,” I retorted before sticking out my tongue.

His voice softened. “Thank you for catching that, Sophia. Seriously. And for helping me figure out how to fix it.”

I waved my hand absent-mindedly. “It’s okay, Simon. You’re trying to figure out people again, and mistakes happen. If no one helps you figure out how to, we can’t exactly expect you to fix them, right?”

“I’ll reach out to everyone now,” he confirmed before going silent.

When I looked at Alistair, he had a very approving expression on his face. Before I could say anything, it was gone, replaced with a smirk. “Bacon, in a Bloody Mary?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure it’s something distinctly American,” I explained. “But don’t knock it until you try it. Perfect amount of salt, I’m telling you.”

He shuddered, but I had spent enough time around him at this point to know it was faked. “The entire drink is the most American thing I have ever seen, to be honest. Imagine, someone from the former United Kingdom naming a drink after the Usurper. Not likely, I am telling you.”

“Considered the second most common garnish is pickled okra, I can’t exactly argue with you on that,” I laughed. “I don’t think there is a vegetable more American than okra.”

“Corn,” he pointed out, distracted as he went through the items on his data pad. Since he started working with me, he had gone from hardly using it to keeping it displayed the majority of the day. Eventually, things would calm down, but until then it was a frequent thing to see him forget to dismiss it and just have it projecting at his side, following his gestures. “Councillors Kalloe and Hodenson have sent a notification that the gravity will be increasing – again? – and to be prepared for any inquiries. Wait, what is this ‘again’ nonsense?” Consternation and mild alarm warred on his face.

I nodded firmly. “Yes, ‘again’. The gravity on Kepler 422b is estimated to be half again the gravity of Earth. While it isn’t anything that will hurt anyone on the ship, the effects of such a sudden gravity change are enough to be worrisome if done to anyone suddenly. Fatigue, blood pressure slowing down, slight dizziness, muscle soreness, etc. The decision was made right before the incident on Level One to slowly increase the gravity on the Ark by five percent of Earth gravity at a time. Once we are certain that nobody is experiencing any long-term effects, or the effects have been addressed, we schedule the next increase.” I shrugged, since we had no reports of any effects from the first increase. As a matter of fact, no one even noticed.

“And you felt there was no need to inform anyone on the ship?”

“Oh, we informed everyone,” I assured him, though I felt a bit guilty. “We sent a ship-wide notification, including what to do if anyone noticed any of a long list of side-effects. And we will be sending another notification before we do the next one.”

“I would remember if I received such a notification,” was the stiff response.

“Yeah, about that,” I told him sheepishly. “We dropped out of FTL about three hours after it was sent. In our defense,” I held up my hands to fend of any protests, “that was entirely beyond our control, and the entire Council was too preoccupied to cancel the process or send a reminder. By the time it was all said and done, the change had been in effect for over three months. I’m not saying it was okay, at all. The goal was never to be sneaky. To make sure it doesn’t happen again, we are making a point to send the next one a week after the Food Festival, with full audio cast directly into our implants.” I tapped my left temple for emphasis. “And the process has to be triggered, rather than being set with a timed automation.”

“So, God forbid some other crisis occurs, the change will just have to wait?” he asked reproachfully.

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to be acceptable, as he quickly changed the topic. “About what happened with Councillor Simon. That was quite kind of you, Miss – Sophia.”

I could feel my face heating up as I shook my head, hair flying. “Simon has had a very unique experience, and he needs someone in his corner. The fact is, he was brought on this ship before anyone else, and there is a reason he was chosen, just like everyone else. He has value, but he and everyone else seems to have forgotten that. I refuse to do the same and just forget that, too. And until he believes in himself… well, I’ll just have to believe in him enough for everyone on this ship.”

With that, I stood to leave for the evening. It was Wednesday, and the first ‘family dinner’ in a long time. I needed this night, and nothing was going to stand in my way. Exchanging a nod with my Administrator, I padded out of my office. I hadn’t gone far when I heard a quiet comment, not intended for me to hear.

“With faith like that, I truly believe the mountain came to Mohammed,” Alistair stated softly as I walked away.

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#the miys #humans are weird #original fiction #scifi #aliens #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #apocalypse

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rusalkii · 5 years

Text

Not worst than average for the past month or so but I don't particularly like average recently.

I have dived down so many SCA rabbit holes this week. So many. For instance, expert consensus on what causes the waist wrinkles and skirt pleats in a bliaut seems to be "well, it's either pleating, really light fabric, tight side-lacing, or some combination". These are really different effects! I've seen someone in a bliaut with a pleated skirt and that just looks weird, but "looks weird" is not actually a justification. Also, I can't afford silk in the yardage it takes to make a Tang era dress the name of which I forgot and that's tragic. Also also, I want to make a map with all the temple ring finds and the estimated year and see what that looks like, cause I bet it's really cool. Unrelatedly, I'm apparently good at throwing axes at things, but this is not a skill that's very easy to practice. And I’m sort of weaving? Though this warp has gone through some exciting adventures.

Anyway, uh, on the bright side my "do something other than stare at a phone" goal has been going pretty well? Aside from SCA things I've been getting to dance consistently and generally doing less of my defaults. On the less bright side it is generally advisable to do homework before the night it's due and show up to classes other than the fun ones occasionally.

Did very well on my Discrete exam, surprisingly okay on the other CS exam, haven't gotten it back but felt better than expected but a lot worse than I should be in Stat. My researchish class once I got caught up in I did very well with the paper draft I submitted, but my partners, uh, did not do as well on his part. I shouldn't feel smug cause the being behind on data collection was my fault but I absolutely do, it's sort of obvious I'm the reason this paper is remotely interesting. And the result is not completely boring, though if I was to redo it I'd do the less precise but quicker method and get more data points, I feel completely terrible trying to generalize from the sample we have. In any case grade-wise the lesson from this is not to trust anything I haven't at least skimmed over, the professor hasn't said a word about the sample size and frankly it's probably more rigorous than anyone else's because I have any standards. The skeleton's good and it should be relatively easy to expand it if I decide I care. (Which, realistically, would be if I talk to the professor and she decides it's worth trying to publish).

In my other classes: Discrete is good, keep doing what you're doing. Need to study for the other CS class (notes, work through problems) and make any effort at all to keep up with Stat. It's not hard! I just need to keep up with the lecture material, make sure I do all the homeworks correctly, and ... honestly everything else is a stretch goal? If I have notes on everything we've covered and understand the homework I'll do fine. There's no good excuse not to get an A in this class, it's easy and I've covered similar material before.

Having specific goals (have notes done) is much better for me than time-based ones, keeping that. Also, moved lists to todoist, which has actual features. I am not sending some very important emails because ugh field. I have also failed very badly at answering messages or talking to... anyone. Sorry, if you're reading this and we talk, I still like you, I'm just an anxietyball lately. (In general me not responding to messages is not a signal of... anything. I like people! I really do! Please talk to me! It's just that sometimes the notification will hang out for a week before I get to it and sometimes I swipe it away by accident and then I will never get to it because I don't have a memory). Slightly tempted to make a giant list of people it'd be nice to talk to more, randomize it once a day, and talk to the person it spits out. Unfortunately this is not any less stressful than the usual way unless people know about it, and then for some of the people I'd want to talk to more that's weird. I dunno. Possibly I should work on not treating social anxiety as a signal, in the same way I can do for other anxiety? "Ah, yep, that sure is the physical sensation of tightness in my chest and shortness of breath, time to do the mediation-ish thing that helps it go away". My social anxiety manifests differently, less physical panic and more a mix of being sure that if I say something awkward/stupid/out of place/etc people'll judge me and being judged is The Worst and just... not having "talk to people" be an available action. The thing I suggested initially would help with the second but not the first. All of the non-partner people I talk to regularly I have some sort of recurring thing scheduled that I interact with them at.

Okay, new tack: why do I want to talk to people?

- It's fun

- They have interesting ideas and perspectives

- Sometimes people are shiny and then talking to them is the best! thing! ever! for no particular objective reason other than !shiny!

- It's social skills practice, the better I get at the easier it'll be and the less it'll cost

- When I don't interact with people enough I get bitter and lonely and that's bad, actually

- Building connections to my community (s), making myself a known entity, unlocking more interesting interactions with groups/people

- Almost everyone is more interesting once you get to know them

- Among moderately interesting people a few will be very very interesting and potentially important to your life but the only way to know who is go deeper

- Local community is very very good for me

To synthesize:

(1) Fun! Shiny! Cool conversations! That fun buzzy feeling from a really good interaction!

(2) Community is good for me, loneliness bad for social animals.

(3) Finding very interesting people/groups requires getting to know them deeper.

(4) Social skills practice.

What can I do that accomplishes these goals? (1) Happens either when I'm talking to a shiny person, someone I like a lot, or occasionally at good group events. (2) Discord/tumblr helps with any, not having close friends on/near campus hurts a lot, not feeling - integrated with? any local community hurts, despite being pretty central to the local rats. I guess some of it is a sort of "can I randomly invite people over to watch a movie or something?" and the answer feels like no. I could... have a personal channel on one of the rat discord servers, this is a superficial kind of community but it’s a very low-stress sort of social interaction that makes me more of a know entity (3) Deeper involves initiating one-on-one interactions. Those are... hard. I know what needs to happen I just don't know how. (4) Happens naturally as a side effect of any of the above. Maybe take up E on the old offer to watch movies and take them apart? I should look people in the eye more and do riskier social moves when the cost of failure is low.

Unfortunately social things take energy and everything I could do here takes energy. ...these were some productive thoughts but I'm going to let them stew for a bit first.

As an aside, it'd be good to schedule a time to go through all of these and review. Once a month is too often, once a year too rare. Every two months? It's been about two months but I don't feel like doing it this week and I'd want a round numbers. Last Friday in October, then.

#the work of the world is as common as mud

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razieltwelve · 5 years

Text

Thin (Final Rose)

“So… what do you think?” Blake asked Diana.

The dark-haired woman pressed her head against the wall and gave it a sharp knock before she eased back and stared at it. “Hmm… it’s a standard apartment wall. There’s nothing remarkable about it.” Her brows furrowed. “I’ve also had a look at it using a variety of different genetic templates ranging from radar and sonar to infrared and x-ray. There really isn’t anything weird about it at all.”

“I see.” Blake made a face. “Could you… make it more soundproof?”

Diana tilted her head to one side. “And why would you need it more soundproof?”

The Faunus looked away. “I may have received an anonymous note from one of my neighbours about, ahem, certain activities being especially loud at certain times of the, um, night.”

“So basically you’ve been having really noisy sex and the neighbours complained?” Diana grinned. “Was it Yang, Neo, Winter, or all three of them at once?”

“Well…”

“So all of the above them.” Diana cackled. “You guys really need to just buy a house or something. Thin walls are pretty common even in more expensive apartments. It’s just how things are done.”

“So you can’t do anything?” Blake asked. “We’ve been thinking of buying a house, but we haven’t found enough free time in our schedules for all of us to go look together.”

“Well… there are a couple of options.” Diana tapped her scroll and images began to appear above it. “The easiest one would be a silence emitter. It’s basically a device that nullifies sounds in a given area. However, they’re really most effective at stopping the movement of sound through air, and your problem is mostly caused by sound travelling through the walls, floor, and ceiling.”

“What else is there?”

Diana tapped her scroll again. “I could have you get all of your stuff out of the way for a couple of hours while I spray the place down with a specially developed coating that massively reduces the ability of sound to propagate through it. You could probably stab someone to death and nobody would be any the wiser.”

“Do I want to know why you’ve got that?”

“Meh. It’s perfect for interrogation rooms, which is what it was originally designed for. Oh, and it’s also been used to coat the walls of tunnels to reduce the noise they make.”

“I’m assuming there’s a catch?”

“I’m not saying it’ll poison you, but there’s a reason we don’t use it everywhere. It’s basically safe so long as you’re not spending hours at a time near it everyday, which is why we can use it on tunnels. Unfortunately, though, you will be spending hours at a time near it everyday if I coat your apartment with it.”

“Okay… next option.”

“Have you considered not having sex in your apartment or maybe having quieter sex?” The vicious glare Blake gave Diana was answer enough. “I see. Option number three is that I drill holes in the walls, floor, and ceiling and fill them with a special material that will absolutely absorb any sounds that a human or Faunus can make.”

“You can do that?”

“If your walls were solid brick, I wouldn’t be able to, but there’s more than enough airspace for it to work.”

“And what would the drawbacks be?”

“I’m going to have to put holes in the walls, floor, and ceiling. I may also have to rip open a few things to make sure the coverage goes all the way around. Other than that, though, it should do everything you need without any other significant drawbacks. I mean… your apartment will smell like plastic for a day, but that’s about it.”

“How long would it take for you to do?”

Diana gave the wall another tap. “With walls like this? Maybe half a day? To be honest, though, I wouldn’t be doing it myself. This kind of thing is minion work. It’s fairly straightforward, and the process has already been refined enough for any Level 2 or 3 minion to do it fairly easily.”

“Can’t you do it?” Blake asked. “I’d rather people not know that… you know…”

“Blake, if it makes you feel better, I can tell them that we’re putting in soundproofing because you like to murder people in your apartment. Believe me, the minions are not going to ask questions. We don’t have to say a word about you having crazy, noisy sex in your apartment.”

“…” Blake sighed. “Can you please just do it?”

"Blake, it’s really not that big a deal. It’s like going to the doctor. There’s no need to feel embarrassed when talking to your doctor, and there’s no need to be embarrassed when talking to the people doing the soundproofing. If it makes you feel any better, I will personally consider which minions I send to do the job.”

“Fine.”

X X X

The two young women that Diana sent to handle the job were easily the most… well… average people that Blake had ever seen. She honestly wouldn’t have been able to pick them out of a crowd, no matter how hard she tried, and she couldn’t help but feel that this might not even be the first time they’d met.

“Don’t worry about it,” one of the women said. “Everybody has a hard time remembering us.”

“It’s one of the reasons the boss hired us.” The other woman grinned. “We’re what you might call forgettable, which makes us perfect for infiltration and for doing jobs that people feel a bit uncomfortable with. We show up, do the job, and then people forget about us.”

“Well, not the boss,” the first woman said. “She never had any problems remembering us.”

“The boss is special. She never forgets anybody.”

“I guess.” The woman grinned. It was a very average sort of grin. “But that’s one of the benefits of being a minion. You’re not on your own. There are people who nobody forgets, and they have a part to play, same as we do. But we all work together, and we all get a nice slice of the pie when we’re done.”

“So… uh… do you know what to do?”

“Don’t worry, the boss already filled us in. Just go shopping or something. We’ll have this done by this afternoon. Just remember to leave all of the windows open, and you should be fine.”

“You’re a Faunus, right?” the other woman asked. “Here.” She handed Blake a modified surgical mask. “It’s designed to filter out the particles that make everything smell like plastic. You can wear it tonight and maybe tomorrow morning. The smell should be gone after that.”

“Thanks…” Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… I think I know where I’ve seen you before?”

“Oh?”

“You helped Ruby and Weiss with their new shower.”

“Heh. Not bad. Both of us are really more into domestic and commercial construction. Just about anything you might want to do to a house or apartment, we can do. But death rays and satellites? Nah. The boss has other people who deal with that.” She handed Blake a card. “Here.”

Blake read the card. Building Blocks Construction. “Wait… Diana owns Building Blocks Construction? Isn’t that one of the largest construction companies in the world?”

“Boss owns a lot of things, you just don’t know about them.” One of the women smirked. “There are all sorts of laws around that are supposed to stop companies growing too big and powerful, but there aren’t many people better than the boss at finding loopholes. Have enough shell companies and corporate trusts, and nobody can work out who owns what without already knowing. She even owns Dynamic Development, which is supposed to be one of Building Block Construction’s biggest competitors. She hasn’t even told the executives of either company that they’re basically on the same side. She thinks it’ll make them perform better.”

“In fairness,” the other woman said. “Performance measures are up by 15% year over year for both companies.”

“But you two know?” Blake asked.

“Well, we’ve been with the boss since she was a teenager. She trusts us. We’re Level 5 minions, so she knows that we’re trustworthy. It’s not like you’ll tell anyone.”

Blake had to concede the point. “Is that why she sent you because you’re Level 5s?”

“Yep. A Level 2 or 3 could do the job, but they might get curious about you or what this is all for. Not us. We trust the boss’s judgement, and we know when to ask questions and when to keep our mouths shut. If you want to soundproof for your apartment, we’re not going to ask why. We’re just going to get it installed and then ask if maybe you’d consider us when you finally decided to build a new house because you can’t find a house that suits your… circumstances.”

“And what would you know about my circumstances?” Blake growled.

“Hey, easy. The boss keeps tabs on all her friends. She likes to get ahead of any potential problems. Based on your… situation… there isn’t a house within a hundred and fifty miles of here that meets your needs. However, there are several properties large enough for us to build a house that suits your needs. It’s not like money is going to be an issue, and who better to build a house through than the boss? Huntresses take home security very seriously, and we know how to build houses that can stand up to everything short of the apocalypse.”

“And what if there is an apocalypse?”

“Well, we could put in an underground bunker. The boss has several cutting edge designs that are perfect for home use. You can ride out the end of the world in comfort and style.”

“…” Blake took a deep breath. “Maybe I will take you up on that. I’ll be back this evening.”

“Have fun,” the two women said together.

X X X

Author’s Notes

Poor Blake. At least, she won’t have to worry anymore. As for Diana, she’s an expert at skirting the rules but staying on the legal side of things. She has her fingers in all sorts of pies, and she has quietly put together a truly imposing business empire. The most hilarious thing is that a lot of people don’t realise that Diana is one of the co-owners of Dia Technologies, and that Dia Technologies is far, far larger than anyone truly realises since it is, for all intents and purposes, a conglomerate combining all of the businesses that Vanille (and her kids) and Diana (and her kids) eventually amass.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

Definitely check out my Amazon stuff if you enjoy my sense of humour.

#final rose #fanfiction #blake belladonna #diana yun-farron

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lovelylogans · 6 years

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Hello! I just had a math exam and 110% failed it. I had no idea what I was doing, and now I’m absolutely terrified to see the mark due to my perfectionist ‘I-always-have-to-be-successful’ thoughts. Any words of comfort/advice....?

oof, okay, been there, first of all, literally that exact situation, multiple times. so let me lay out some various scenarios, and what happens with each. under the cut, bc long.

first: you could be maximizing it. i took my second stats exam this past semester and thought i just completely whiffed it. like, i cried walking back home from the exam, i got myself pity chocolate, wrapped myself up in blankets and listened to moody music, whole nine yards. i’d studied most of that weekend, and all of that day, and i thought i just flunked it.

imagine my surprise when i got it back and it was an 89/100.

like. genuinely. i stared at it and just kinda figured well if there was an issue with the scantron, and i know i messed up the full work--

nope. actually did that well. i thought i’d be trying to dig myself out of a c- (best case) and i ended up getting a b+.

so, if that’s how your mark turns out, that’s awesome! nothing to fear! maybe just keep studying a bit more for next time and make sure you stay at that level. also maybe consider why you felt so uncertain and scared.

second: you did bad on it. like, real bad. like, one time i got back a math exam and got around a 30%, level of not good. first of all, it’s like what i keep in mind whenever doing an assignment i think is a waste of time: any percent is better than a zero. 30% is better than 0%. you tried. it didn’t go so great. it sucks, i know it sucks. but you can do better next time. think over why you didn’t do well this time. did you:

1. study enough? i know it takes a hot second to get how to study for math. find some practice problems, go back in your textbook and do the problems you didn’t do for homework (one of my hs math teachers, for instance, would assign evens for homework, bc answers for odds were in the back and we could do the odds to practice for tests) or look around online for extras. ask your teacher what they recommend you study/focus on; if you get a study guide, for the love of god, use it. does your school offer some kind of extra help? i know it rankles at you, perfectionist wise, but sometimes you need help so you can do it yourself.

2. understand the material walking out of class? (note i don’t say before the exam, even though that’s how i handle it a lot and need to improve my way of thinking.) i mean walking out of class. do you walk out of your course and just go “i have no idea what this means. i don’t know what just happened” and just kind of continue on? with math a lot of things build up on previous knowledge. if you don’t get something walking out of class, try and study it enough so that you get it while you’re doing your homework. if not (again, i know this rankles at me a bit) either look around online or ask your teacher.

3. blank in the middle of an exam? i know it’s the worst. first, take a deep breath. mark the problem you’re not doing, and go through the test. do the stuff you know you know how to do. chances are as you’ll get into the swing of it you’ll start to remember other stuff.

4. do you have another problem? do you suck at time management, do you procrastinate a lot, are you just not so good at math? see that problem, recognize it. vow to yourself you’re gonna do better, and make a plan to do better. use your planner more! set up designated study times! try and do extra work!

third: so you did bad on it. you’re scared to see your mark. been there. the thing is you gotta see it. look over the problems you missed, see if you made silly little mistakes (like, you didn’t carry a number, or you forgot a step, so on) and mark em. for the more complicated ones you don’t get--if your teacher goes over exams in class, ask. if not, send an email, visit office hours. try and understand. if your teacher truly sucks and doesn’t respond at all to your requests for help (BEEN THERE!) then, again, online’s a good friend. if you have friends in the course, ask them too.

and if you do end up getting a bad grade, remember:

there is still time in the semester. if it’s late in the semester, then there are other grades to help make up for it. you didn’t do well. it happens. but that means you’ve gotta work a bit harder to make sure you get your grade where you want it to be.

take a breather. i knowww getting a bad grade sucks. take a night, or a day, or whatever. allow yourself to sulk a bit, but don’t fixate on it. get some comfort food, do some pampering, watch a favorite movie. let yourself grumble about it. after that? don’t think about what you should have or could have done. you did what you did, and it didn’t turn out how you wanted. it sucks. move forward. do not beat yourself up over this.

work smarter. and harder. so. bad grade. it sucks. agreed. but take what happened this time and use it. you got a bad grade--you can use it to help push you. if you’re having trouble doing your homework bc you don’t see the point, remember this grade. think about it (did you study? did you pay attention in class? did you do your homework? did you actually understand it walking out of class, or into your exam?) and change your behavior.

this does not define you. grades, in the long run, don’t matter all that much. did i nearly flunk out of algebra ii and chemistry my junior year of high school? yeah! it sucked! am i currently accepted into my upper level majors of choice in a competitive program? yep! i know grades get a really big emphasis right now, but one bad grade doesn’t mean that the world is ending. i know it feels like it. but you are a lot more than your gpa, or your standardized test scores. remember that.

here’s some helpful links to look over, courtesy of studyblr.

how to deal with failure

self-care

find some balance

a masterpost of masterposts!

study methods

another self-care masterpost!

my school tag, and my college tag.

take care of yourself!

#ask #not ts #anonymous #my post

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swelldomains · 7 years

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Local SEO Checklist: The Small Business Owner`s Guide to Better Organic Search Rankings

Search Engine Optimization (SEO) can be an overwhelming subject for any type of business owner.

After all, you're active running your company-- something you understand best-- as well as don't have much time to find out a totally new advertising and marketing technique.

However, although it sounds frightening, fundamental SEO approaches are a NECESSITY if you're mosting likely to have any type of chance of appearing on local online search engine results web pages (SERPs) when potential consumers look for your company, and it's particularly crucial if your company remains in a larger, a lot more competitive city.

The excellent information? The suggestions I'm concerning to share are absolutely traits you can do and can learn by reviewing this article as well as making the effort to carry out these local Search Engine Optimization strategies.

Before We Begin, What IS SEO?

SEO includes methods and also strategies you can use on your site and off of your web site with the goal of assisting your site rank greater when individuals look for your company, items, or services on search engines.

It includes a slew of principles and approaches, such as long-tail keyword phrases, metadata, verification codes, HTML, material marketing, online company directories, etc. Don't panic, I'm going to prevent the jargon as a lot as possible, and educate you the basics of neighborhood company Search Engine Optimization in under 15 minutes.

Lesson 1: The Newbie's Overview to Search Engine Optimization Key phrase Research

When you do a search online you start by getting in a search query in the search box, something we've all done hundreds if not thousands of times.

When you believe about exactly how people search for your business, you want to think of the terms your consumers actually search and also stay clear of sector jargon that you and also your colleagues understand and also use.

As an instance, one of my Search Engine Optimization customers was a maker of huge commercial buildings and also barns. The proprietor insisted that the appropriate term for a particular structure was a "message frame building." Exactly what he didn't understand is that even more people were looking for the old-fashioned term "post barn" when they looked online.

It was tough, but I was lastly able to convince him that we needed to compose as well as enhance the content on his page of what his clients were actually browsing for-- pole barns-- not the market lingo term-- blog post framework building.

This is a vital lesson every business has to learn.

To discover just what people are really looking for, you can use paid as well as totally free key phrase study tools such as Ubersuggest and KWFinder.

Google additionally makes it relatively simple to figure out exactly what individuals are looking for with their cost-free Google Search phrase Planner. Despite the fact that AdWords is for pay-per-click (Pay Per Click) marketing, you can establish a complimentary account and also use their key words organizer device to figure out the amount of people are looking for your key phrases, which works for SEO as well.

You can additionally see just how competitive the key phrases you're attempting to place for are. Just what you intend to try to find are keyword phrases that have a significant search quantity but with tool to drained competitiveness due to the fact that you'll have a much better opportunity of ranking for these types of keywords/keyword phrases.

iSpionage is another great tool for SEO keyword research. You can make use of iSpionage to uncover all the SEO terms your rivals' rank for in order to recognize which terms you might also intend to target. In the screenshot listed below, for instance, GoDaddy.com places for terms like 'webhosting bundles,' 'hosting configuration,' and 'looking domain' which means these are all terms you as a competitor could likewise want to attempt to rank for.

Now that we have actually discovered a bit concerning SEO keyword research and just how important it is to use the terms your consumers are in fact look for, allow's relocate on to find out even more concerning the search engine results pages (SERPs) themselves.

An Intro to Online search engine Web page Results (SERPs)

You'll see on the SERPs when you search for a local business that there are paid advertisements from Google AdWords marketers in addition to Google neighborhood company listings (the map location).

Below the neighborhood company listing you'll see the natural search results.

Organic positions are essential because you don't pay to obtain those desirable leading places. It's all based on just how well Google assumes your site matches what the searcher is looking for.

Keep in mind that you want to jump on the online search engine' local listings AND ALSO organic positions if whatsoever possible.

Here are some quick suggestions for on-page keyword optimization to get you began:

The basic regulation is to optimize individual pages on your website for 2 to 3 key words at a maximum. Just ensure you do not overuse the keyword phrases. Rather, utilize them around a couple of times per web page and also be sure to use basic synonyms or other methods to describe the key words you're aiming to place for. If you're a floral designer, you'll desire to attempt and also place for the search key phrase "flower designer," yet on that page you could additionally make use of the terms flowers, blossom setups, flower, funeral blossom plans, and so on (KEEP IN MIND: Search engines, particularly Google, have gotten a lot more innovative over the years and they're currently able to look at the context of the page and also establish just what the web page is around, which implies you don't need to overstuff keywords as well as can in fact get penalized if you do.)

Now that you have a better understanding of neighborhood SERPs, allow's have a look at some on-site optimization you can do to place greater in Google.

Important Metadata: Web page Title and Description

There are two pieces of HTML code that you must have on every page of your internet site, and it should be unique on all web pages based on the material of the pages.

Of training course we're discussing the Title and Summary HTML tags.

The Title tag appears as the title for pages in search results pages, and also the summary shows up below the title, as seen in the screenshot listed below with the title in a red box and also the description in a blue box.

Thus, your Title and also Summary metadata tags end up being just what individuals see when they do an online search, so you can think about this as a one-shot possibility of catching the searcher's attention ... virtually like a tiny ad.

If you were looking for a veterinarian in Dubuque, IA, would certainly you click on the above listing based upon its Title as well as Description? (Hint: I possibly wouldn't due to the fact that it does not tell me anything about just what solutions they offer. It's merely not compelling and also just includes realities like the businesses address, telephone number, and also e-mail address.)

To see exactly how your Title as well as Description appears for your site-- or if you even have them on your site-- go to a web page on your website, best click, as well as select View Web page Source. Then press CTRL + F and a Discover box will certainly appear. (This will certainly look something like the screenshot listed below.)

Next, search for Title as well as you'll see your page Title. Do the exact same for Description.

If your Title is simply "Home" you've got some job to do and require to function with your web designer to obtain this remedied. If your site is a WordPress site, you can also mount the free SEO Yoast plugin which will make including Titles and Descriptions per of your web pages a piece of cake.

Keep in mind that all of your page titles and summaries must be enhanced to include keywords and to interest searchers in order to boost your click-through rate for natural rankings.

Next Up: Google+/ Google My Company, Bing Places for Business and also Yahoo! Local

Did you understand that Google, Bing, as well as Yahoo! deal regional companies FREE business listing pages? Yep. Absolutely, 100%, entirely free.

You could include photos, your logo design, company description, hrs of procedure, etc. The twist? YOU need to put in the time to case as well as maximize your listings. It's fairly very easy to go via the asserting procedure, yet right here are a couple of tips:

Make sure your business name shows up SPECIFICALLY as you desire it to throughout ALL directory homes. Choose your authorities company name and also stay with it. (Do not have your company name noted as "Tom's Gym as well as Health and fitness Center" on one directory and "Tom's Health and fitness Center" on another). See to it that the very same is real on your website also using the correct name throughout your site as well as in the footer of your website as well.

Your address MUST be consistent as well as proper-- right down to whether you lead to out "Roadway" vs. "Rd." vs. "Rd" I understand it seems nitpicky yet it's essential. As well as no P.O. Boxes. It's additionally useful to place the exact address on your Call United States web page along with in the footer of every web page of your website.

Phone number: Make sure you have a local phone number listed on your site. Make use of the standard method of listing telephone number -LRB-319-RRB- 555-5555 or 319-555-5555 vs. 319.555.5555.

To check and claim your Google My Business/Google+ web page, check out http://www.gybo.com/business. To declare your Bing Places for Business regional business listing page, go to https://www.bingplaces.com/, and also for Yahoo! Neighborhood most likely to https://local.yahoo.com/ and also click on the "Include a Business" link below the page.

Setting up your neighborhood web pages is relatively straight-forward, however you'll most definitely wish to adhere to the three ideas above as well as make the effort it takes to establish up these pages. It's a little bit of a discomfort to get every little thing established, but it's absolutely worth the trouble!

70+ Various other Online Business Listings You Can Claim

There are around 70+ various other on-line local business directory sites that you're additionally mosting likely to intend to make sure to claim and optimize. Instances include Yelp, Citysearch, DexKnows as well as EZlocal.

Optimizing your internet site and also online business directory site listings for your company's physical location offers you a wonderful opportunity to obtain new consumers as well as enhance sales, and also could also enhance your possibilities of being located when people do a regional search.

However, being findable for local related searches will not happen without a technique. Just like Google, Bing and also Yahoo, you need to be consistent with your Name, Address, and also Telephone number (NAP). Hang out totally loading out all your business' info on each of the directories, i.e. your business hours, business summary, category, kinds of payment approved, etc.

And don't be overwhelmed among the directories you should insurance claim. Rather, do a few every day or you could employ an expert Search Engine Optimization expert or a hourly worker to do the effort for you.

How to Boost Your Online Reviews

Once you assert your online company directories, you'll be able to connect with customers that could leave favorable or unfavorable evaluations concerning your company online. These on the internet reviews are essential to your success.

According to BrightLocal 88% of people depend on online assesses as much as a personal suggestion. Google also shows the number of 5-star testimonials you have in the SERPs.

Begin by proactively trying to solicit positive testimonials from satisfied consumers. As soon as you claim your Google+/ Google My Business page, you'll have an URL one-of-a-kind to your business listing. Place that link in your signature of every e-mail you send as well as include: "Inform us exactly how we're doing. Your point of view matters. Leave us a testimonial by going to XXXXXXX" and also connect directly to your Google My Company page's URL.

By taking a little of time to boost your online evaluates and to guarantee your completely satisfied customers leave reviews, you'll enhance the amount of trust possible clients have in your business.

Don' t Neglect a Mobile-Friendly Website!

Now more than ever you should have a mobile-friendly website. If you do not have a mobile website, drag for you-- you need a brand-new website.

Why? Due to the fact that even more individuals are looking on mobile tools like tablets and also mobile phones vs. home computer than before As Well As Google began this year to punish sites that weren't mobile friendly. Yikes!

To see if your website meets Google's Mobile-Friendly criteria, browse through https://www.google.com/webmasters/tools/mobile-friendly, enter your URL as well as you'll obtain the results.

Again, if your website isn't mobile-friendly, you definitely need a new mobile-friendly website because you'll obtain penalized by Google or else. I understand that's rough, however it's a reality as well as a reality.

Why Content Is Now a Necessity

Do you hate to blog? Sorry, but you require to obtain over it.

Search engines examine your site for constant web content updates, and also they desire top quality web content, not just an easy mind dump.

Blog messages are also the most effective means to enhance for targeted key phrases and to create new material that could rank in internet search engine. If you have the ability to publish a brand-new blog article at the very least as soon as a week, that's an excellent beginning that will assist your internet search engine rankings.

Start by doing keyword research to discover just what people are looking for, such as " just how to find the ideal dental professional," "exactly how do I make hen noodle soup," "exactly what's the most effective means to drop weight," and so on. Pick one to 2 key phrases or keyword expressions as well as create a blog message targeting those search phrases. Bear in mind, you're creating blog messages for your visitors, so make certain you're not pitching your business but rather you're offering valuable, objective content.

This will certainly aid to build count on with your site visitors while additionally producing more material that can rate in and get located by search engines.

Are You Bewildered by All of These Steps?

Don' t be. From one local business owner to an additional, I recognize you certainly can learn how to maximize your internet site (hell, I educated myself SEO 17+ years' ago). And also that there are several actions to finish means that each box you inspect off ends up being yet an additional method your business is set apart from the competition given that a lot of companies will not place in the moment and also initiative it requires to enhance their web site as well as listings for organic online search engine rankings.

Do a little of this overview each day and also gradually and you will assist your website rank greater in online search engine, which will ultimately mean even more business for you and also less website traffic for your competition!

#business #business owner #business plan #creating a business #marketing #marketing campaign #online business #seo #social media #social media campaign #web marketing

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