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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Explosive

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott

The erupting volcano was almost sedate compared to the fraying tempers in the danger zone.

For @whumptober-archive’s day 5 “I’ve got red in my ledger” using the prompt broken nose. Today was tough - I actually started poking at alt. prompts for a while, but they didn’t want to flow, either. Still, we got somewhere in the end!

The sound of a breaking nose was distinctive. Cartilage crumpled, bone shattered, and it all combined into a unique symphony that once heard once, was never forgotten again.

Gordon had known that Scott was having trouble with some rescuees; it was hard not to, when their loud and explosive protests had been broadcasting clearly through Scott’s open comm. That was the whole reason he’d left the other part of the danger zone – a small town directly in the path of a leisurely yet unrelenting volcanic eruption – to Virgil and Alan in order to back their big brother up. Sure, Virgil probably could corral their reluctant rescuees with a combination of his seemingly-eternal patience and sheer bulk, but if Scott’s Commander persona wasn’t getting through, then Gordon wasn’t a fan of throwing Virgil into the mix. Alan wasn’t even a consideration.

He’d recommended himself, John had agreed, and Scott hadn’t even given any indication that he’d heard him over the increasingly-aggressive sounding rescuee, so he went.

Unfortunately, it sounded very much like he hadn’t got there in time. There was, of course, a chance that Scott had snapped and been the first to lash out, but Gordon was doubtful that that was the case, even if he’d personally prefer it over Scott being the victim. Scott was good at keeping his temper under control on rescues, provided none of his family were threatened – and as he was alone in his sector of the danger zone, there was no way they were successfully threatening the rest of them. Ergo, the one with the freshly broken nose was Scott, and Gordon was incredibly displeased at that.

They were still shouting, none of their voices tinged with the tell-tale thickness of a broken nose, and the sound of more contact echoed across the comm.

Gordon accelerated a little more, breaking into a risky jog as he closed in on Scott’s location. Ungrateful and difficult rescuees were the worst, especially when they got violent towards his brothers. Scott could, in theory, handle it – although it was sounding rather like this time he couldn’t – but Kayo was the only other one of his siblings whose self-defence skills were greater than simply passable so Gordon often ended up as some form of defence.

That didn’t mean he liked doing it. They were there to help people, not fight them.

He slowed his pace again on the final approach, wanting to get a visual on the situation before actually getting involved. Blue and yellow wasn’t the best for stealth, but if no-one was actively looking for someone else nearby, he could disguise his presence reasonably well.

There were three of them, all yelling loudly. Smart businessmen in suits, but one was built a lot like Virgil and his face was a similar colour to Thunderbird Three as he roared at Scott. Gordon’s brother was backed up against a crumbling building that looked like it had been victimised by the warning quakes – another concern to keep an eye on – with one hand cupping his face in a way that made it perfectly clear that he was the one with the broken nose and the other balled into a fist of frustration.

His restraint was admirable; Gordon could tell that his temper was seething, and that the temptation was there to lash out in retaliation, but so far he hadn’t stooped to their level.

Gordon’s job was to make sure he didn’t.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” he inquired, stepping over some other quake-caused rubble as he made his presence known – still far enough away that they couldn’t just take a swing at him. “You know, this area is in the path of a whole load of lava and leaving would be a really good idea.”

“We’re not leaving!” the red-faced hulk snarled. To Gordon’s relief, he turned away from Scott to face him instead. “Get your fancy machines over here and protect my property.”

One of those, was he? Gordon wished he was surprised, but the arrogant, sharply dressed businessmen almost always cared more for their property than their lives. It made them incredibly tiring to deal with.

“Sir, that’s a wall of lava bearing down on us,” he pointed out, taking another step closer. “We can’t stop it, just get everyone out of its path before they end up like the residents of Pompeii.”

And Herculaneum, John’s voice snarked in the back of his head, although John himself was too busy directing Virgil and Alan while keeping an eye on the volcano itself to contribute to the conversation.

Red turned to a rather impressive shade of purple instead. “I demand that you protect my property,” the man exploded, rather like the erupting volcano itself. “It’s worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

Considering the Tracys ranked somewhere particularly impressive in the list of richest families in the world, Gordon probably could. The attending Thunderbirds alone were likely worth more than whatever it was he was trying to protect. He knew better than to mention that, though.

“That volcano really doesn’t care,” he said instead, which probably wasn’t much better. Movement behind the men facing him indicated that Scott was doing the smart thing and getting out of his cornered situation, although Gordon wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was being smart enough to leave the confrontation entirely.

“I don’t care what the volcano thinks,” purple-face yelled, lunging forwards. Gordon had been wondering when he’d snap again.

Already on guard, and not hemmed in against a building with nowhere to go, it was a piece of cake to duck down beneath the flailing arm, watch him overbalance, then grab his wrist and yank him into a submission hold.

“Hey!” The other men reacted, but Gordon glared at them and they halted in their tracks.

“Look,” he told the struggling man. “Our job is people, not properties, and we’re not leaving you to die so either you come with us peacefully, or I’ll force you.” He tightened his grip. “And we do not appreciate being attacked for trying to save your sorry asses.”

“Gordon!” Scott scolded, although his name came out all mangled thanks to the broken nose. Gordon elected to ignore him.

“There’s nothing International Rescue can do to stop the volcano destroying whatever it wants to destroy,” he continued. Purple-face gaped breathlessly, while the other two watched. “So are you going to go to the evac zone willingly, or do I have to force you?”

Scott’s hand clamped down on his own shoulder, but Gordon continued to ignore him in favour of waiting for the answer.

It didn’t take long.

“I’ll go, I’ll go! Let me go and I’ll go right now!”

Like many of their more aggressive encounters, it was all bravado shielding a delicate ego. Gordon released him and quickly stepped backwards, out of range of any other potential attacks – pushing Scott out of the way as he did – but it seemed that this one actually knew when he was beaten.

A dark look, an under-the-breath grumble that was probably some version of the cliché I’ll get you for this, and the man scarpered. The other two, who were almost certainly just lackeys, followed hot on his heels, and Gordon watched them go with narrowed eyes.

“Gordon,” Scott repeated again, all nasally and disapproving. He rolled his eyes – it wasn’t like Scott wouldn’t have done the same or worse had their situations been reversed – before turning to face his big brother.

“How did you let that guy get a hit on you?” he asked, mostly as a distraction and not because he was interested in the answer. Scott huffed, then winced.

Gordon closed the gap between them and reached for his cheek, carefully prying the concealing hand out of the way so he could see the damage properly.

“Gordon-”

“There’s no-one else left in this sector, Virgil and Alan have the rest of it under control, and that lava’s taking its sweet time approaching,” he reminded him coolly. “There is plenty of time for me to check you over." He lay his hand gently on Scott’s cheek, pushing himself up on tip-toe to be closer to eye level.

His nose was going to need re-setting; Gordon could do it right there, but it’d be without painkillers, whereas if they waited until they were back to Thunderbird Two they’d have the full medical compliment, including Virgil. Blood dripped sluggishly down, crossing Scott’s upper lip and dripping periodically onto his lower, and the classic twin black eyes were already beginning to blossom.

Scott suffered the inspection impatiently, switching his weight from foot to foot and glancing around the danger zone with an angsty air. Gordon was too used to his big brother’s quirks to be bothered by any of that.

“You’re getting some beautiful shiners,” he declared, swiping away the next dribble of blood with his thumb before releasing Scott’s head. The look Scott gave him could only be interpreted as thank you, Captain Obvious. “No light-headedness, double-vision, or any other signs of concussion?”

“I’m fine,” came the muffled, irritated, response. Gordon suspected he was at least partially annoyed with himself for being jumped in the first place. “We have an evacuation to finish.” It came out more like we hab an ebacuadun do binid.

Gordon eyed him critically, well aware that Scott wouldn’t admit to anything if he thought he could just push through it, but concurred.

He changed his mind approximately four seconds later, when Scott stumbled and swayed slightly.

“No light-headedness?” he repeated pointedly, fingers firmly wrapped around his brother’s bicep and holding him upright.

Scott didn’t acknowledge that with a verbal response, but the way he tugged to keep walking was enough for Gordon.

“Change of plan,” he chirped, taking the lead and guiding a somewhat reluctant Scott straight towards Thunderbird Two. “Virgil and Alan finish off the evac while I give that head of yours a proper scan and we’ll see what’s wrong. Well, more wrong than usual, I mean.” He ducked a half-hearted swipe and tightened his grip when Scott threatened to overbalance again. “John, you get that?”

“F.A.B.,” their perpetually eavesdropping brother agreed, appearing above his wrist. “Virgil and Alan have been updated and the local authorities informed about the dangerous rescuees.”

“Perfect,” Gordon said. “Hear that, Scott? You’ve got nothing to do except let me check you over, and I’ve got nothing to do except check you over, so let’s go do that and make sure you didn’t get a concussion.”

“I’m not concussed,” Scott protested thickly.

“Which is exactly what a concussed Scott Tracy would say,” Gordon pointed out. Scott stumbled again and he graduated from holding his bicep to wrapping his arm around his waist. “It’s just one measly little scan, Scott. It won’t bite.”

The glare he got in response to that was almost enough to convince him that Scott was probably fine. Almost.

Gordon chuckled as they approached the large green Thunderbird. Her module was open, with rescuees milling around concernedly, so he made a beeline straight for the cockpit, Scott in tow. His brother stumbled again, and Gordon firmly pushed him to sit in one of the passenger seats before retrieving a medscanner.

No concussion, but there was a minor head injury – not including the obvious. Gordon supressed a growl that would’ve been aimed at people out of earshot regardless, and dabbed lightly at the blood still sluggishly trickling down with a clean gauze. His brother attempted to take over, or at the least bat him away, but Gordon caught his hand in his and guided it firmly to rest on his lap.

“Let me do it,” he scolded lightly. “I can actually see where it is.”

It was a pretty feeble reason, admittedly – mirrors existed – but Gordon didn’t particularly care because he had no intentions of passing over the ministrations to anyone else anyway. If he did, he might just cave to the roaring instincts to teach the man – men – responsible a detailed lesson on why no-one hurt Gordon’s brothers.

It was much better for everyone involved if he kept himself busy.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #broken nose #thunderbirds are go #fic #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #tsari writes fanfiction #thunderwhump

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bump1nthen1ght · 4 years

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Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

#reader insert #monster romance #female reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #my writing #vampire

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joshuas · 4 years

Text

the playlist

♫ pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack (at the end, really), fluff

♫ word count: 1.4k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ prompt: #You made me a Christmas playlist but it's just Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is you" and I can't tell if you're hitting on me or if it's a joke. - if anyone is aware of the owner (?) of the prompt, please let me know so that I can credit appropriately :)

♫ a/n: The first addition to my Christmas drabbles! Enjoy this lowkey chaotic fic!

♫ skz christmas drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[16:23] 10th Dec.

Entering the cafe your friend Chan was working at, you sighed contentedly, inhaling the smoky aroma of freshly ground coffee. “I need caffeine like right now.” You slumped against the counter dramatically. “Exams were that bad, huh?” He smiled sympathetically, starting up the espresso machine. “Not bad. Tiring, but not bad. I’m honestly just erasing any memory of them as we speak.” You sighed, propping your chin on your hands. “Well, regardless, I did make you something as a gift for completing those... things that you’re currently forgetting.” “You did? I mean you didn’t have to.” Your eyes lit up though, negating any attempt at masking your excitement and curiosity. “Okay, well I should clarify. It’s nothing big. My professor set us a task to make a playlist for someone, basically for the purpose of getting us to consider the audience that we’re making music for... so I chose you. Just think of it as something to relax to after a long week of exams.” He explained, tone slightly laced with trepidation that you payed no heed to. “Well, I’m flattered that my best friend considered me to be their... muse for this assignment? In fact, I’m super curious as to what songs you put on it. Send it to me tonight and I’ll listen to it!” You grinned, grabbing your coffee and waving as you exited the shop. “Yeah, okay...”

“Don’t spill the flour everywhere!” Your friend, Felix, stressed, pushing the bowl of cookie batter closer to you.

“This whole process would be a lot more fun if we could listen to music, as well.” You rolled your eyes at his hotheadedness. “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to make gingerbread for Chan because of the whole playlist thing, which is highly romantic by the way. Also, we all know what happens when you get distracted while cooking.” He smirked, mixing through the batter. “I’m pretty sure friends can make playlists for their friends. Besides, I have you to help this precarious venture not go sideways.” You flashed him a smile, opening up the playlist and pressing shuffle play, before quickly redirecting your attention to to the cookie trays. All I Want for Christmas Is You blasted out the speakers, you laughed awkwardly as Felix raised his eyebrows pointedly at you. Odd song choice, but okay.

Half an hour later, with Mariah Carey playing on loop for almost 10 times, Felix rubbed his temples,

“Either Chan has an extremely unique sense of humour, or it’s an extreme declaration of his undying love for you.” Parcelling the gingerbread away and neatly tying a bow on top, you looked at him, “It’s weird, though. All the songs on the playlist are the same. I don’t think Chan would do that... it’s probably some network glitch or something like that.” You resolved, thoughts whirling as you cleared the kitchen. You had known Chan since childhood. Growing up, the two of you were as thick as thieves, causing enough grief to last both your parents a lifetime. It wasn’t until late high school that you’d started viewing him differently. Every little act of kindness that he did out of friendship made your heart both burst with happiness and twinge at the fact that he didn’t share the same sentiment as you. You hadn’t ever really considered the possibility of him liking you back. You never wanted to venture into that territory, afraid that you’d get your hopes up and your friendship, something you valued more than anything, would be ruined at the cost of your curiosity and feelings. You considered it as too selfish to even entertain the thought. However, some nights you couldn’t help but daydream on how it would feel to have his soft lips on yours, and to be wrapped in his warm embrace every night. Yet, whenever reality dawned on you, you shut down that part of your brain, reinforcing to yourself that the two of you were only friends. “Hey, Y/N? Sorry to interrupt whatever internal monologue you’re having but I’m going to leave now. Regarding the Chan situation, I’m not telling you to read into it too much, but considering Chan, I doubt it was just a joke.” Felix gave you a tight hug, snapping you out of your reverie. Sighing, you shut off the speaker, heading to your bed, your thoughts provoking as you tossed and turned, unable to drift off.

[18:39] 12 Dec. You had actively avoided the cafe and Chan over the last few days, fleeting texts often with one worded answers being the only form of communication between the two of you until you had sort of wrapped your head around the whole playlist situation. You knew it was bad to keep Chan in the dark like that, but you weren’t ready to see him, regardless of what his reasoning was. It wasn’t until Felix had forced you out of the house to give him the gingerbread you had baked that you had to face your fears and him. The door jingled as you stepped into the place, Chan in the same place you last saw him, humming to, wow, he really likes this song, none other than All I Want for Christmas Is You as he wiped down the counter, “Sorry, we’re closed.” He called out, not glancing up as you approached. “You must really love Mariah Carey.” You raised your eyebrows at him as he glanced up at you, startled, “Y/N? You’re alive?” “No. I’m the ghost of christmas past... Of course I am. I came bearing gifts. Particularly Christmas ones since you’re going home tomorrow.” You placed the gift bag in his arms, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you.” He said quietly, putting the bag to the side. “So, about the playlist—“ You both started. He stopped as you continued. “Was it a joke?” You blurted out, silence pursuing as Mariah Carey belted in the background. Santa won't you bring me The one I really need Won't you please bring my baby to me “This is really poor choice of music... anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re my best friend.” Your heart twinged in disappointment as your throat tightened, casting your burning eyes to the ground. He grabbed your hands, “but... it wasn’t a joke. I literally put 100 copies of All I Want for Christmas Is You in a playlist to try and articulate my feelings for you.” “Wait... so you were hitting on me?” You questioned, looking up, incredulous. “I mean. Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Cool cool cool cool cool.” You stared at each other for a while, eyebrows raised. You surged forward, pressing a quick kiss on his lips, as he gaped at you in shock. “You mean you...” “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go around kissing randoms after they declare their undying love for me, unless I like them too.” He pulled you close to him, his lips moving tenderly moving against yours. Time came to a standstill, the music distantly playing in your mind as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the two of you blissfully enjoying each other’s company. You pulled apart, breathing heavily as a smile spread on both your faces, laughing softly. “You know... your wish did come true.” You remarked. “Wish?” He tilted his head, questioning. “All you want for Christmas is... you know...” You gestured to yourself, as he facepalmed, laughing, “I guess you’re right. All I’ve wanted for Christmas is you.”

+bonus - high-key crack ((because Felix would never ever do this)) this is lowkey inspired by Chan’s Room: Ep. 69! Watching your silhouettes behind the tinted windows of the cafe lean in to kiss, Felix scrambled out of the car, eyes wide in horror as realisation dawned on him. “No! This can’t be happening! My plan...” He fell to his knees on the sidewalk, his upset tone echoing throughout the almost deserted street. He was in turmoil. He had been the one to orchestrate this whole thing - 100 copies of the same Mariah Carey song on a playlist, even with the concept of a playlist, he was sure you would hate it. However, what he didn’t account for... was that the two of you had feelings for each other. His heart twinged enviously at the possibility of Chan sharing all the pick-up lines customers (cough cough stays) had used on him throughout his day on you instead of Felix. He had to do something about this. This wasn’t the end for platonic Chanlix. He’d get his pick-up lines back.

➳ part two? | masterlist!

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number-1-kuaidul-fanboy · 4 years

Text

Punch Out Wii Boxers Ranked

Thought I’d give my opinion on this since I’ve already expressed biases towards/against certain characters. I will be including Donkey Kong and Doc Louis but not Little Mac (because he is the objective best). The list will go from 15: the worst, to 1: the best. Before I start, I’d like to say that all of these characters are good, well-crafted characters, it really just comes down to personal bias who you prefer. And with that, let’s get started:

15. King Hippo

King Hippo is barely a character. Everything he “says” (there are apparently translations) just boils down to being hungry and he has no personality outside of that. I don’t hate him, but I don’t really care about him. His fight is also pretty boring all things considered. The contender fight is pitifully easy once you know what you’re doing and his title defense fight can go on for a long time and get very monotonous. At least his music’s kinda cool.

14. Super Macho Man

As someone who lives in America, I hate Macho Man with a burning passion. It’s not because I’m “patriotic,” it’s actually kind of the opposite. I’m not offended by his stereotype because it’s mean, I’m annoyed by his stereotype because it’s accurate. I deal with people like this on the daily: in the news. His catchphrases are obnoxious (except sometimes when they’re cut off. That’s kinda funny, admittedly) and he’s egotistical even compared to some of the others. He’s the type of person I actually want to punch in the face so I thank Punch Out for giving me that opportunity but I still hate the character. His match is fine. It’s a bit too easy in both contender and title defense compared to Soda and Bull but hey, at least they tried. His music’s alright.

13. Donkey Kong

Don’t get me wrong, I love Donkey Kong’s inclusion in this game. I think it’s amazing that Nintendo made a match for one of their most famous characters and the fight against him is very unique and challenging to win by KO. That being said, I never really played Donkey Kong so I don’t really have the connection to this character that others do. So yeah, great cameo, not one of my favourite fighters.

12. Bald Bull

Sorry, Bald Bull fans, but I’m not the biggest fan of this raging lunatic. In fact, he kinda creeps me out. People make jokes about Great Tiger being a furry (which he is), but Bald Bull straight up acts like a bull to the point of literally assaulting the poor referee. It’s kind of gross. To that same point, he is also completely shameless about his horrid anger issues which is personally not fun to watch. I get that he was driven mad by the paparazzi (or whatever that cutscene was trying to convey) but it’s still pretty over the top. I’m also not a big fan of his fights. It’s not too terribly difficult in contender mode (except the stupid bull charge) but it’s downright ridiculous in title defense. I firmly believe that his title defense match is the hardest in the entire game, yes even more difficult than TD Soda and TD Sandman. I cannot express with words how much I despise the star punch gimmick. Getting the star punches is frame perfect, making it feel like luck, and getting hit once makes you lose them all. And you need those stars to even knock him down. Seems a bit extreme for the middle fight in the world circuit, doesn’t it?! I was at this fight for hours and was over the moon when I finally managed to beat him. Also, his music kinda sucks. However, I put him over Macho Man because despite everything I just said, I don’t actually hate Bald Bull. I hate his fights but I don’t hate him personally like I do with obnoxious american.

11. Soda Popinski

Oh boy, Drunk Man. I don’t really see many reasons to like him but not any to hate him either, apart from his stupidly difficult fight, that is. I actually find it pretty easy in Contender. There’s a lot of strategies to knock him down really fast and his pattern is pretty basic. As for title defense, did they really need to make it that ridiculously hard? Yeah, there are tricks to make it easier and he has a set pattern but getting into the rhythm of that pattern is incredibly difficult and one slight mistake sets you back to two stun punches. It’s beyond frustrating. And yet the game deems him and Bald Bull to be easier than Macho Man. Why? As a character, Soda is just kinda there for me. It’s fun to make jokes about his steroid soda at least. Also, his music is for some reason one of my favourites tracks in the game. It’s just so epic.

10. Bear Hugger

Alright, now we’re onto the characters I actually like. Bear Hugger is a fun character. He’s one of the more exaggerated stereotypes though I can’t really say for sure whether this one is accurate or not but I’m guessing the maple syrup and hockey stuff at the very least is. I also love the squirrel. It’s implemented into the fight kind of oddly, but it makes his title defense fight pretty enjoyable. It’s a difficult fight but not one I’ve lost recently. The contender fight is fun too, it’s definitely one where I get to spam a ton of star punches. His music is good too. Not much to say on Bear Hugger, he’s fun but I like the other characters more.

9. Disco Kid

Kinda sad that the Wii version only introduced one new character to the roster but at least it was a fun character. Disco Kid’s matches are not a challenge. Contender mode, title defense, he’s one of the easiest fights in the game. He makes up for that by being incredibly over the top flamboyant and cocky, this time in a fun way. I like that he dances throughout his whole fight, I think it’s cool when every little aspect of someone’s match ties into who the character is. Disco Kid is a flamboyant dancer and that is perfectly shown through his mannerisms in the fights. I especially love how in Title Defense, he’s not really bitter or determined to beat Mac he’s just like, “Oh a dance club? This is cool, might as well work this stuff into my boxing routine.” It’s pretty excellent. I’m not a huge fan of disco, but his theme music is pretty good.

8. Aran Ryan

If there’s one thing I’ve seen since joining this site, it’s a lot of Aran Ryan. People on here really love this guy and even many of the YouTubers I’ve seen play this game say he is one of if not their favourite character in the game. Personally, I think he’s a little overrated. However, I do still like him and see why other people like him. He’s sort of a “love to hate” kind of character with him being a complete psycho that’s probably a sadist and a masochist considering how he seems to enjoy being punched and beating the hell out of everyone. It’s fun in a twisted way. His fights are also both pretty fun. Everyone really likes the cheating aspect and yeah, it’s pretty ridiculous that he can literally bring in a weapon and get away with it. However, it also makes his fight stand out from the others. He’s so horrible that he’s just fun to beat up. It’s also the only world circuit fight in title defense that I don’t hate with every fibre of my being. So yeah, fun character, with excellent music might I add.

7. Glass Joe

Here’s another favourite here on Tumblr. To be honest, the fact that people on here liked Aran Ryan didn’t surprise me at all. In fact, it seemed perfectly in character. However, it did surprise me to see how many people liked Glass Joe. I thought he was kind of underrated before but now I see that he’s getting the love he deserves. I love how even though Glass Joe is in every way a french stereotype, he also directly defies the stereotype of the french being quick to surrender. He lost one hundred times and still didn’t give up, becoming determined to defeat Little Mac after earning the headgear. It’s unironically really admirable. Glass Joe’s fights are never a challenge. Contender, title defense, champion’s mode, motion controls, he’s always kind of a joke. However, he is meant to be a tutorial fight for new players and this game gets much more challenging as it goes on, so it’s understandable. They did do a good job at making him more challenging in title defense, but it was still pretty easy at least in my opinion.

6. Von Kaiser

Von Kaiser’s a little underrated in this fandom. Maybe I’m speaking from bias, since I have so many headcanons about him but I really do think he’s a good character. He is just as much of a coward as Glass Joe and isn’t a much better fighter (his contender and title defense fights are both incredibly simple) yet Von Kaiser has a significantly better record than the rest of the minor circuit and even Bear Hugger, with 23 wins and 13 losses. He must’ve gotten those wins from somewhere and I doubt they were all from Glass Joe. That combined with the fact that Kaiser is the oldest boxer in the game (42) makes me think he was once a great boxer but has now passed his prime and refuses to give up, sort of like Glass Joe, but a little more tragic. Regardless, it’s fun to speculate. And I feel kinda bad for Von Kaiser, I mean the dude gets beat up by kids and basically goes mad after being beaten by a seventeen year old boxing newbie. Also, his music is pretty intense despite the fact that he’s treated like a joke by the game. Like Glass Joe, they did do a good job of making Kaiser more difficult in title defense by giving him a one hit KO and plenty of fake outs, though I don’t particularly struggle with either of those.

5. Sandman

Sandman is scary as hell. None of the other boxers really intimidate me, even the one with ridiculously difficult fights, but Sandman is a different story. Everyone else in the game has some kind of silly quirk even when they are serious but this guy is deadly serious about boxing. I mean, they introduce him by showing him beat the shit out of everyone you just faced before, some of which the player may have struggled with. It’s a great introduction for a final boss. His fight in contender is certainly the hardest in that mode and while I didn’t struggle with his title defense fight as much as TD Soda and TD Bull, it was still incredibly hard to beat. And unlike TD Soda and TD Bull, he actually has final boss vibes, so he does deserve his rank (unlike some other characters). Similar to Aran Ryan, his fight also requires the player to be more on offense, at least in my experience.

#4 Doc Louis

Doc Louis is severely underrated in this fandom and just in general. I love how encouraging he is to Little Mac even when he loses repeatedly, I love his silly tips that more often than not are cheesy dad jokes or puns. He’s just a good wholesome dad that loves his chocolate. I love him. Sadly, I have not played Doc Louis’s Punch Out so I don’t really have a perspective on how the fight is apart from videos online but it does look pretty fun, and it’s freaking Doc Louis. How can you not love him?

#3 Piston Hondo

This guy is also kind of underrated, maybe because he’s a bit vanilla? I don’t know, but apart from Sandman, he is undoubtedly the most serious about boxing. It’s actually a bit scary. I mean, this dude can catch a sword in his bare hands and outrun the bullet train, he could easily become champion after Little Mac retires. In fact, for me at least, his title defense fight is the most challenging fight in the major circuit for me. Yes, harder than Bear Hugger and Great Tiger. Those fake outs and speedy Hondo Rushes kept getting me. So yeah, very dedicated to boxing. He’s also just very respectable in general, keeping a calm demeanor throughout the fight and even bowing to show respect. He also doesn’t laugh at you when you get knocked down like literally everyone else does. (Apart from Don, but he still taunts you by asking if you want more.) Yeah, he gloats, but he’s a good sport. It’s nice to see someone who plays fair amongst a crowd of cheaters.

#2 Don Flamenco

Yet another character I’m surprised doesn’t get more attention in this fandom. I dunno, maybe my opinions are just weird. That being said, Don Flamenco was always going to be one of my favourites as he is the only foreign speaker in this entire game I can understand without subtitles. Though even if you don’t know spanish, Don’s character is still very clear and very amazing. Like, I’m sorry, but his contender intro is the best sequence in the entire game. You know immediately what he’s all about and it’s just so beautifully over the top to see this try hard dance his way into the ring with a rose. Actually, “beautifully over the top” is a great description for Don Flamenco in general. He hits every note of the “Spanish man” stereotype in the first few seconds you see him: being a bullfighter, getting all the girls, dancing the flamenco, and just being handsome in general. I don’t know if that last one is an actual stereotype but it’s undeniably true. And none of that is a bad thing. He is a positive figure, if a little cocky, and all of these things that the game could make fun of him for (the NES version certainly does), are actually shown in a positive light. I’m not too fond of bullfighting being shown in that light but it is very popular in Spain so… eh. Also, I do like that Don Flamenco fights like a bullfighter in the ring, baiting you into “charging” or attacking before countering. It’s a nice detail. However, it does make the fight a little too easy. In contender mode, even without doing the infinite, I barely have any trouble with him. He’s easy to get stars off of, his attacks are not that hard to dodge or counter, and if you do the infinite combo, you can destroy him in seconds. In title defense, he is more difficult for sure, but he’s the easiest fight title defense fight in the major circuit. That being said, holy cow is he amazing in title defense as well. He was already over the top in contender but in title defense, after one loss might I add, he acts like it’s the end of the world and becomes completely emo. This could’ve been completely obnoxious or stupid but in my opinion, it makes him very entertaining. He’s just so fun to watch in general, I love his epic music, and I love this angsty telenovela character. Amo al personaje Don Flamenco. El es tan entretenido y guapo. Necesita más amor. Because I mentioned that I know spanish earlier and the first first thing people always ask me is to speak some so there you go. Onto number one.

1. Great Tiger

If you’ve seen my other stuff here on Tumblr, you probably knew this was coming. My very first post on Tumblr, as well as the second, was about Great Tiger and I have tons of pictures of him in my likes. I guess I just have a thing for charming arrogant divas. Seriously, while he’s not as over the top as someone like Disco Kid or Don Flamenco, Great Tiger is a total diva and kind of a show off. He’s always using his clones to glorify himself or taunt you, which would normally be annoying but for some reason, it’s not in his case. And it’s not because I don’t know what he’s saying, the inflection in his voice makes it clear enough that he’s trash talking (and I’ve looked up translations). It’s because Great Tiger has a sort of cold determination, like he is ready to destroy you first, glorify himself after, probably the reason he doesn’t have a taunt, unlike nearly everyone else in the game. He is completely focused on the match and very cool-headed as well. He’s very respectable, even when he’s literally telling you to go drink your mother’s milk. On a side note, I looked up those translations as a kid and I still can’t get over the fact that that is something he actually says. Like, what on earth Nintendo? Still, it’s kinda funny to me. Anyways, I love Great Tiger’s fights. His contender form is fun and I love that intermission scene where he switches places with Doc, showing what a likeable douche he is but his title defense form is my favourite in the game. I really love the magical element, what can I say? The flashing jewel is like a game of Simon put to boxing, I love that he teleports all over the place, the Magic Rush is gorgeous bullshit, and the fight keeps me on my toes but not to the point of being impossibly hard. It’s also fun to experiment with certain elements of the fight, because it can be incredibly varied depending on what you do. just really fun. Whether I do the special knockout or play through the whole fight, I have a fun time fighting Great Tiger. It also helps that his music is spectacular, my favourite in the game. I dunno, those bongos just feel so good on the ears. Great Tiger is also just really interesting in general, and I feel like there’s a lot of unanswered questions about him. How does he have magic? (I know the NES version has an explanation for this but the Wii version does not and is substantially different.) What is the extent of his abilities? Is the jewel the source of his power? It seemed to be directly linked to his corporeal clones in title defense. Is he even of this world? I don’t know, but damn it’s fun to speculate on. I’d love a story just about his backstory, how he got his magic, how he became a boxer, I care about that stuff. So yeah, Great Tiger is the most interesting character in this game, and that’s why he’s my favourite. (I also low-key crush on him, but that’s subjective :)

Anyways, hope you enjoyed my list, it was kinda long, but I have a lot of opinions on this game and this is a good place to put it.

#punch out #punch out wii #glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #king hippo #piston hondo #bear hugger #great tiger #don flamenco #aran ryan #soda popinski #bald bull #super macho man #mr.sandman #sandman #opinions #favorite characters

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kineticallyanywhere · 4 years

Note

I'd love to hear those fusion thots :eyes: the pacific rim ones were V good

If you’ve been around this house for a hot minute you might know that fusion aus are My Entire Jam Garden so you might imagine I’ve already put some thought into this and you would imagine right. The following was brainstormed in consort with @aryashi my second brain.

The basis for this au is that fusion is possible in the forgotten realms and is just a thing people there can do. This also applies to sudden interdimensional travelers.

tl;dr I wrote basically a one-shot’s worth of words down there but in short fusion is rad but also there's an unexpected amount of drama. which is basically a summary of the podcast but replace "fusion" with "fatherhood"

(preface: fusion is not a sex metaphor, just like pacific rim. Platonic fusion is normal. Familial fusion is normal. Okay, continue.)

First inter-dad fusion: “I silence his dumb ass with a kiss” except its “I silence his dumb ass by accidentally fusing our bodies and consiousnesses into a single being w h o o p s”

I like to name fusions as something other than their romantic ship name so let’s call him… o h yeah we named all of Henry’s fusions after animals. So this guy is Hare (like Darryl). Hare is pretty stable from the outside, but their internal dialogues clash really hard so they're incredibly slow to make decisions.

Internally, Henry feels like he's crossed Darryls boundaries. They have to hold it, but he lets Darryl take the wheel and all similar mistakes are made. They make it through the thing with the Lance before unfusing. Darryl has no idea what that was and already has a lot of intimacy issues, so he’s not particularly inclined to try that again for funsies. Henry is curious, but there’s a buried part of him that’s making him deeply unsettled by the whole experience. He can barely have a straight thought about it, much less articulate the feeling, so he doesn’t try. He lets it go.

First sons fusion: When the Lord of Chaos throws back his robe, yelling “Dad! !” it’s a GIANT Lark&Sparrow. They’re like trying to fuse two rubies together, you just get a bigger ruby. This changes a bit later, when the twins start to diverge from each other vis a vis Love Wolfism, but basically the Lord of Chaos is an Oak Twin the size of their dad. But still looks 12. It probably actually takes the Love Wolf speech from Henry and their divergent reactions to get them to unfuse.

Second inter-dad fusion: That other time Henry and Darryl smooched while high on drug flowers. It was very unpleasant, they don’t talk about it, they don’t try that again for a while.

They get a book on fusions from the Library that reads almost like a birds and the bees talk and there is minor culture-shock panicking about whether fusion is Like That, but something in Henry is telling him “No. It’s not Like That.” He doesn’t really know why he’s so solid in that belief. He understands that fusion is unique and powerful and a wonderful thing, but something about doing it is just… getting under his skin.

Third inter-dad fusion: Glenn and Ron. I’m not even sure the exact context or anything. Maybe they were just vibin’. All I really know is that I imagine these two occasionally fuse for the weirdest things, like

Fourth inter-dad fusion: also Glon, fishing magic items out of a giant toilet. They needed to be taller.

Glon is… gosh, what the heck is Glon. Performative out the ass, for sure. Down for basically anything. Allowed to wear bootie shorts.

Back up a hot minute though, because first dad-son fusion: almost happens on the Tower of Terry. It comes so close. They’re in that hug, and Ron thinks maybe if they fuse, the magic won’t take TJ. Or even if it takes them both, that’s better than TJ getting taken alone. They don’t have to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you, son” out loud, but before it really takes, Terry gets ripped away. Because Willy can’t have that, can he?

Fifth inter-dad fusion: is Glon again, but the circumstances are way different because Ron just saw the mummy of his wife and Glenn is trying to help him breeze past it and it works until it doesn’t and they fall apart with Ron a crying mess.

Sixth inter-dad fusion buckle up because we’ve reached Ravenloft. Before dad-fusion 6, Henry gets caught in his dad’s claws. He feels something very familiar and rejects it with everything he has, and escapes to grab Glenn. Then he gets hit by Calm Emotions, Glenn reaches up, trying not to fall, and Henry is already super chill about everything all of a sudden, so when Glenn tries to fuse out of panic, Henry goes for it.

Gila—Henry and Glenn—can do actual bard magic. They’re like Opal, in that a single moment of disconnect is enough to snap them apart and finding that disconnect is not difficult. But when the situation is saving their kids and telling their asshole dads to get lost, that’s plenty enough connection to cast an actual magic-ass thunderwave with a guitar and maybe a bit more.

(Barry didn’t like that.)

So another fun thing about adding this factor to cannon is that this lets the dads have glimpses inside each other’s heads. So certain conversations could change a little bit. For example, in the van while they’re driving away from the Ravenloft fight and Henry’s explaining a few things.

Henry: I don't have a lot of memories from that time in my life— Glenn: Not a lot? Try "not any.” Henry: Glenn— Glenn: Dude, none of my business, but your brain was weird. Henry: Glenn. Glenn: Like did the government get to you when you showed up on earth or— Henry: Glenn what the fff—rick are you even saying just shut up Darryl: …

Darryl had noticed, too, but Glenn has other fusion experience to compare with. Henry could catch glimpses and imprints and trains of thought which ground in different points of Darryl/Glenn’s entire life, and Glenn and Ron can do that equally with each other. But a bunch of things for Henry, if you try to backtrack to where the decision comes from it just. Stops. Especially with using magic, which Glenn got to do. And Henry’s thoughts on fusion end dead hard.

(filtering all of this through Freddie’s headcanon that Glenn always figured Henry was from Faerun but was just wildly wrong about all the details is so much fun)

This is the part in the fic series where there’s a one-shot about Henry having a panic attack just outside of the camp at night, and the most he can explain is just that something about seeing his dad again set him off.

And then we get to a lighter turn for first dad-son fusion but for realsies this time: Ron Stampler nat 20s to hug his son and then also is the son. And that dad. And dads are supposed to be inside to do a ritual for a demon cow.

RJ is the sweetest dude. Also if you don’t sit on him he will wander off and do the most extreme version of the first thing that comes to his mind for a problem solution or release from boredom. And he will not tell you about it in advance, so seriously. Sit on him.

So they stand there for a second like "yes... Yes. Yes... Okay. Im... I'm the dad. But I'm the kid? But im. The dad. And all the other dads are also the kid so... Dad... Trumps kid status. And I'm the dad... Cool." and they go in to help with the demon cow.

The kids are flipping out outside.

Henry spots them and drops the cage, almost like he’s Garnet and just spotted Stevonnie. While all the other dad’s are freaking out/fawning/curious, Glenn lifts their glasses and theres four eyes and he drops the glasses and never mentions this again.

Rj: hi um. I'm a dad.... Yeah. So I'm here tooooooo frickin kill a demon cow let's do this Rj: got the good dad vibes comin out of my butt

For realsies though Terry should be outside, so they unfuse for the cow thing and the bbq but then Dennis happens.

Second dad-son fusion: Dennis: are you sure you've got this? Ron: i can do it TJ: he can DO it dad GIVE ME YOUR HAND

RJ’s an arcane trickster and it’s real cool and Dennis looks so jealous ha ha ha and also they separate after the fight and suddenly Terry’s unsettled and needs to talk to Ron for a second because “Hey Dad is Dennis not real????????”

Third dad-son fusion: is way less eventful, but who the heck can say no to more reasons to cry about the Wilsons at the tail end of the Supper Bowl arc?

Fusion is not a replacement for talking, but it is a bit smoother in communicating emotions. It doesn’t happen until the end of their talk, when Darryl’s got his arm around Grant. I don’t think either of them are super attached to this whole fusion thing, (If Grant is, it certainly wasn’t his dad he’d been thinking about trying it with. Maybe one of the other kids… “maybe Terry.”) so they may not even pick a name. Henry certainly cries at least twice as hard, but when they want to just get something to eat and maybe just hang out for a while, nobody pushes.

I think the most important part of this is that it gives Grant a kind of… emotional break. Lets him feel something nice again— like he does in the show, too, but in a way that’s a bit more stable while it lasts. Like the feeling when you’re a kid on a long car ride with your parents, one that ends in getting home late and you’ve fallen asleep and they carry you out of the car.

Good things for Grant Wilson for til forever.

Somewhere in that arc, though, Glenn approaches Henry by themselves. Glenn’s not really a feelings guy, but whatever’s going on in Henry’s head is a problem. It’s a one-up the o-dads have on them, and they can’t afford that right now.

Glenn: so you like... Really don't hardly remember being a kid? Henry: Glenn, I don't want to talk about it Glenn: I bet your dad's gonna wanna talk about it Henry: well... i don't care what he wants Glenn:... You seriously don't know how you got to earth? Henry: [exasperated] the frick are you-- I got to earth like anyone else, Glenn. You know where babies come from, right? Glenn: of course i fucking know where babies come from. A mommy and a daddy love each other very much and then their kid runs away so hard he skips dimensions Henry: wh-- wait you-- do you think I'm an alien? Glenn: obviously Henry: Glenn that's-- [sighs, rubs his face] Glenn this isn't the kind of time for your conspiracies Glenn: hey as far as I'm concerned, a man who sleeps with an axe under his pillow is a fool every night but one. and you shoot poison from your hands and shape shift into bears

Which adds nicely to the slide of heading to Oakveil next

Henry: y'know what. When we leave here, we can get my kids next. Glenn: your interdimensional kids Henry: to prove to you you're being crazy. Again. Glenn: De Nial is a river man, and we left it back on earth

And one more dialogue bite, because…

Glenn: claim your powers latched onto you from this world all you want. But that language you and your dad spoke, didn't come out of the air, it came out of the door in your head

...fusion means the other dads get to learn about the metaphorical brain door.

This brings us into the most recent arc, heading into Oakveil. He and Ron sneak in, and Beary tells Henry he’s home, and pieces start to click together. Henry’s from this world, so he understands why he’s had such a particular view on fusion and that basic cultural understanding. That it’s considered normal. And that it’s even normal for a kid’s first fusion to be with their parent. Their parent who loves them and knows them wants to see them grow.

Bear Ry’Oak is not that.

First O-dad fusion: Henry’s first fusion was with his dad.

I think the worst thing is that, when fused with his dad, Hen doesn't feel like he's not himself. one of the interesting things about the Oaks is that they're kind of all slight alterations on the same traits. Like as gross as it feels to admit, Beary is just Henry but with the condescension turned up to a billion and his high horse is basically an elephant and no self-awareness or care for how others might have different perspectives from him

But Beary is still so overwhelming to Henry that it just flattens pretty much anything that makes Henry, Henry. Specifically the parts that Barry dislikes. like Henry's anger. To directly quote Aryashi: “Beary thinks using fusion for combat is barbaric. obviously fusion is for Conflict Resolution. Fuse with Beary so he can sort out your disagreement with him!”

(and then bathe in bleach)

So Beary finds them in Oakveil and Henry starts panicking and he tries to Handle Henry like he did when Henry was a kid, fusing with him to stomp down on his feelings to cut a panic attack or outburst off at the pass. If Henry's in no place to fight back it usually works, but if Ron's there--literally pressed against Henry's back--to see the fusion coming, maybe he reaches for a fusion, too, and lets Henry's instincts choose which pull to follow, and Henry's instincts choose Ron.

Seventh inter-dad fusion: Wren is suddenly there before Beary can even start his attempt to coach Henry through breathing (his half-effort to help Henry and be able to say that he tried freakin hate him) and is sitting on the ground and the disgusted look Beary gets seeing this. (Fusing with an outsider is something he considers so beneath his son.)

Beary:... Ah. Ronald. Wren, existing, suddenly, and mostly being Ron's processing power as Henry's mental wheels try to slow down to match Ron's pace (cultivated through a childhood of dealing with Willy) rather than amp them both up: uhm... It's just Ron, actually Beary: would you mind... (there's other people around so he can't say "decontaminating") liberating my son. (as if ignoring the role his son had in choosing this fusion over his) Wren: Henry is uh... (me? Not me? Yes me, not up for this, we should go somewhere else that usually works fine, we can just leave and find the others and that'll be fine) he's good. We're good, we're gonna... (looking at the other people who look like Henry and the "not amping each other up” thing is working less and less) Wren: bye

And then they just stand up and fast-walk away

Wren is either chill af and rolling with every punch or the living equivalent of a coke bottle that you popped a whole roll of mentos in and then closed immediately. At this moment, it’s very much the coke bottle side. Beary lets them go because he knows Henry will be back, and they make it just outside of town to where the others have just shown up before they fall apart.

Ron: We found the door! Darryl: what door? Ron: the one in Henry's head! And all the dads know what he's talking about Glenn: did you open it? Henry: no Ron: a little bit Henry(probably now starting that panic attack): the anchors in there Ron: his dad came out of it Darryl: his dad???????? Henry, vulnerability, Oak: I AM FEELING VERY VULNERABLE RIGHT NOW AND I HATE IT [chorus of mumbled sorrys] Ron: oh also Oakvale is Henry's home Darryl: WHAT Glenn: Uh hey anyone gonna pick up the phone cause I FUCKIN CALLED IT Henry: That's not my home! My home is with Mercedes back on Earth! Glenn: Yeah, this is just where you were born. Henry: Glenn I swear to God-- Glenn: Dude lay off, I was agreeing with you! Home's where the heart meds are and all that jazz Darryl: Wait, you have heart meds? At home? When was the last time you took your heart meds? Glenn: Uhh... not since I came here? It's fiiiiiine. Never felt better! Ron: Not to interrupt but Henry's on the ground breathing funny. Glenn, are you sure you don't have any heart meds? Henry: being hugged by both of his sons in a simultaneous way that is not their normal simultaneous way (i.e. the Lord of Chaos way): WHY ARE MY SONS TALLER THAN ME Glenn: I'm more surprised that they're hugging you Lord of Chaos: to assert dominance! Any moment now, we will turn this hug into a suplex!

And that basically brings us to now? I want a Triple Oak Fusion (the King of Chaos) but with how the fight with Beary went I’m not sure where it’ll go. OH YEAH.

Autumn stopped fusing with Hen even when he was a kid because she couldn’t stand to see how much her son craved the approval of that evil man who stole her life away. And whether or not Henry ever fuses with anyone ever again after finding out he’s got Eldritch in him has gotta be up in the air.

And at this point I could easily be convinced that the next inter-dad fusion is Darryl and Glenn, those beautiful idiots. They could be… Denn. Glarryl? We’ll workshop it.

#jakalboy #dndads #aus #fusion aus #dungeons and daddies #me talking #my writing

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komahinasecretexchange · 5 years

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Title: Maybe Tomorrow

Author: @midnight-run-amok

For: @kumipen

Rating/Warnings: T

Prompt: Post Dr3 island Kamukoma (though I did include a bit of the prompts kamukoma drv3 & kamukoma post Dr3 casefic in there as well)

Author’s Notes: This ended up being so much more challenging than I thought it would be, but it was a lot of fun to do. I hope you like it. <3

“Hey, are you dead?”

Kamukura Izuru opened his eyes to find Komaeda Nagito leaning over him, his gaze feverishly bright even in the dimly lit cabin.

This was not an extraordinary occurrence.

Komaeda was a constant visitor to his cabin. Not a welcome presence exactly, but a familiar one as his luck made slipping past his locks a simple matter of faulty hinges or weak welds. He often returned to his cabin in the evenings to find the door leaning off-kilter in its frame and Komaeda inside rifling through his things or cleaning his shower or sitting carefully at the edge of his bed waiting for him as if he were afraid he’d muss the blankets if he were to sit on it properly while he waited for him to return.

He sat up from his bed, unsurprised to find Komaeda was standing just far enough out of the way to avoid collision. Nor that he was somehow still standing just close enough that Komaeda’s hair brushed against his cheek as he swept past him.

Komaeda Nagito’s hair was soft against his cheek, a likely by-product of the same luck that kept his own hair smooth and untangled no matter how little attention he paid it or how long it got, no doubt.

He smelled like coconut, but then everything on the island seemed to reek of coconut so that wasn’t surprising either.

“No,” Izuru answered finally. The answer wad belated and unnecessary, but he’s been trying to make an effort to answer even the most boring questions. “Meditating.”

Not sleeping, never sleeping, his mind was always too restless to ever relax enough for conventional slumber even now. Many things had changed for him since Enoshima had coaxed him from his room beneath Hope’s Peak, but that was not one of them.

“Ah,” Komaeda murmured, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t worried, of course, someone as extraordinary as you wouldn’t die so easily. Though I’m sure if you did the others would have persevered and found hope even in your untimely demise.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied dryly. “Why are you here?”

Komaeda sighed, “Aren’t you supposed to already know?”

They’ve had this conversation before.

“I don’t know everything that’s going to happen,” he sighed, tossing a pillow at Komaeda’s head.

Komaeda was already stepping out of the way before it left his hands… and directly into the path of the second pillow he threw right after it which startled a laugh out of him and apparently caused him to relent as the next words out of his mouth were an explanation of sorts.

“They found a body at the school.”

He frowned, ducking to the side as Komaeda threw the pillow back at him half-heartedly.

The they could only be the Future Foundation.

He glanced down and found Komaeda’s bare feet covered with damp beach sand and sighed, “You realize the whole point of having Souda rig up an excessive number of death traps around the island was to discourage drop ins.”

“I suppose it was lucky I was taking a walk on the beach when they showed up so I could disable them.”

“Yes. Lucky,” Izuru replied dryly. “And what do they want us to do about their body problem?”

“You don’t already know? What’s the point of being overstuffed with artificial talent if you can’t divine something as simple as that?” Komaeda huffed, crossing his arms over his chest his lips knotting in a disappointed frown.

“I’m surprised you could be bothered to pull yourself away from basking in the light of all that legitimate talent long enough to come find me,” he replied flatly, rolling his eyes as he crossed the room to dress for company. “If they’re looking for someone to blame, none of us have left the island in weeks and killing people with my mind is not one of my talents.”

Komaeda huffed a laugh, following him to the closet and leaning against the door as he shed his night clothes and changed into the suit he kept on hand for dealing with the rank and file of the Future Foundation when they came to call.

He’d greeted them in one of the more casual outfits he usually wore once, but while their reaction hadn’t been boring, it would be tiresome to deal with a second time. The novelty of being treated as an ordinary teenager by men he could have killed with his little finger if he’d been so inclined had worn off rather quickly.

“If it were, I imagine there wouldn’t have been much of a Future Foundation to speak of by the time we entered that simulation.”

“That would have been boring,” Izuru replied easily, glancing back over his shoulder as he tugged off his shirt to find Komaeda very deliberately not looking at him as he kicked off his shorts and pulled on a dress shirt.

“It would be understandable, wouldn’t it?” Komaeda murmured, his shoulders right and his voice filled with soft amusement that made his shoulders tighten involuntarily. “For them to blame us? Who would be a better scapegoat than the remnants of her Despair? Think of how much safer the world would feel, how much Hope it would bring if we were no longer in the world.”

“Don’t care,” he replied, shaking his head briefly. It didn’t matter to him what the people of the world felt, he never had. He’d only helped save them last time because these people, his people, had wanted to save them. “They can clean up their own mess.”

“Oh. I suppose it’s just as well then that they just want us to help them investigate then.”

“Us?”

Komaeda’s mouth knit into a thoughtful frown as he finally glanced back at him now that he had pants on and was buttoning his shirt, “Well, you, but I don’t think you should go alone even if I’m not very useful and you’d be better off taking someone else, anyone else really would be more help, I’m sure, but I’d still rather it was me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I would have asked you anyway, but we’re not going to the school.”

He’d been very clear about boundaries the last time he’d spoken with Naegi when he’d informed him that Souda was putting in a full defensive array around the island and that rebuilding that school was a terrible idea and he had no intention of having any part in it.

“Oh… good. Then I suppose it’s lucky Naegi-san made them bring the evidence with them, photos of the crime scene too.”

Of course he had.

That was to be expected, he supposed.

Izuru glanced back at Komaeda, studying him as he finished buttoning his shirt. His pale cheeks were flushed and he was deliberately not looking at him again, “What is it?”

Komaeda shook his head and shrugged, stepping past him into the closet and taking a tie from the shelf. He’d finished doing up the buttons on his shirt and popped up the collar at the same moment Komaeda looped the tie around his neck, taking hold of the dark material and tying it with quick, efficient movements.

He stood still, watching Komaeda’s pale brow furrowed in concentration, as he knotted and pulled the tie snug around his throat before straightening his collar.

They lingered there for a long moment, Komaeda’s fingers dropping to rest against his chest bracketing the tie. He knows what he’s going to do a moment before they collide, but it never occurs to him to move aside. Komaeda’s lips are rough and cracked where they brush against his own.

It’s a new.

Different.

Nice in a way few things are.

Whatever moment they’re having, Komaeda ruins it by turning his face away just as suddenly as he’d brought it close and bursting out into laughter. It’s too loud and too high, nervous and jittery, to be true amusement and his hands are shaking where they’ve caught and rumpled his shirt front. He frantically tried to smooth it out, “Sorry, I… I… didn’t mean….”

He reached out and grabbed his wrists before he could skitter away and allow his own insecurities to consume him, “It was fine.”

Which was obviously not the correct thing to say based on the uniquely unimpressed look Komaeda gave him, all the nervousness melting away from him like ice baking in the sun.

This is not one of his talents.

He could make a bed with perfect corners and he could shoot down a goose or a plane from a mile away, he could anticipate and dodge almost anything, but he wasn’t good at this.

At knowing what to say to people.

To Komaeda especially.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Komaeda commented and this time when he pulled away, he let him go. “I’m sure they have much better things to do than wait on us.”

“Fine,” Izuru sighed, shrugging into his jacket and following Komaeda to the door. “Let’s go find out who their good intentions killed this time.”

The walk to the beach is silent and terse and he’s faintly surprised to find them waiting there alone, clearly having been unnoticed by the others. That was lucky. There was a good chance they might be able to get this business concluded and the Foundation off the island before anyone else’s day had to be interrupted by their presence.

While they don’t seem particularly pleased to be taking Komaeda aboard their ship, they don’t fight him on it anyway. Which was probably the best option available to them as there really was no telling what would happen to their boat if they upset either of them.

“Thank you for agreeing to come with us,” one of the men commented. He was nondescript, unremarkable, and painfully boring.

“We’ll try not to take up too much of your time,” the other commented, equally unremarkable though he was taller and had a talent. He’d introduced himself as the Ultimate Negotiator. He was never completely certain why they bothered to introduce themselves to him in such a way. He wasn’t impressed and he didn’t care. “We just need you to look over these files and we’ll get you right back to the island.”

He glanced back toward the shore to gauge the distance. 1.24 km… he could easily swim that distance if he had to, even while carrying Komaeda.

“You were in the 70th class, weren’t you? I saw your picture on the alumni site. That seems like it would be a really Hope-inspiring talent, negotiation. Of course, we’re happy to look over anything you’d like us to look over though I can’t imagine what you think we can do that the Ultimate Detective can’t. Our talents can’t begin to compare to that, can they?”

He could probably even manage to reach the shore before he felt compelled to attempt to drown Komaeda for being Komaeda.

Probably.

“Kirigiri-san thought an extra set of eyes would be helpful considering,” the man replied evenly, ignoring Komaeda’s flattery.

“Considering?” He inquired softly, as he reached down to take hold of Komaeda’s synthetic hand and pull him gently away from the Negotiator.

��Whose body it is,” the man replied as he stepped into a darkened room beckoning then to follow.

He could feel Komaeda step in closer, a line of unfamiliar warmth against his back, the awkwardness of the cabin forgotten or pushed aside.

It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but not unwelcome.

Artificial light flickered to life with a soft hum revealing an open box and an array of pink-splattered photographs spread across the table at the center of the room.

Izuru stared at them for a long moment before stepping further into the room and turning his attention to the contents of the box: a knife tacky with blood, a blood-splattered book, a hair clip, and a baseball.

He didn’t need to open the book.

He knew exactly what this was.

Predictable.

Despair was easy.

Hope was difficult.

Especially in a world that was already remembering all its petty grievances, reigniting old fires the moment there was no longer despair to battle in such a literal form.

The world was boring that way.

They knew that better than most.

And the Future Foundation should have known that better than anyone.

“You’re here to tell us they’re making a movie,” he commented flatly, turning his narrowed gaze on the man smiling pleasantly at him from the other side of the table.

“A trilogy, actually,” he replied, obviously pleased with himself for his presentation. “There were some who weren’t onboard with the idea, but fortunately cooler heads prevailed and overruled those who were perhaps a little too close to the events to understand what could be gained, how the world could benefit hearing the full story.”

How they thought giving the world an abbreviated version of a complicated series of truths would make it a better place was obvious, but that didn’t mean it would be effective.

He could see the consequences stretching out into the future. Movies to tv series to reality tv to a society dependent upon upon that show, their show.

For all their empty promises of a better tomorrow, the Future Foundation had only ever truly excelled at paving the road to despair with their efforts to reach it.

“You’re all very stupid,” he replied finally, earning a huff of breath against the back of his neck that could almost have been a laugh as the Negotiator’s face contorted briefly with rage before settling back into an expression he probably thought masked his irritation.

“You shouldn’t say that, I’m sure their talents would make a film version of events shine brightly and bring hope to many,” Komaeda commented his voice soft and almost reverent. His admiration for them had dimmed a bit in the years since Hope’s Peak and all that happened there, but it would take more than a brainwashed, despair-fueled murder spree to put an end to it altogether.

“And despair to even more. Being talented doesn’t make them smart.”

“I suppose not,” Komaeda admitted finally and he didn’t need to see his face to know the look of disdain there. “Did you think we’d be more supportive about this then they were?”

“No, they didn’t,” Izuru answered before the Negotiator could speak. “But they don’t know what happened here, only what Naegi, Togami, and Kirigiri told them. They came to convince us to give them the recordings.”

“Recordings?”

“Naegi had recordings made of our time in the simulation made in case the Future Foundation needed proof that we had changed.”

“How exactly would recordings of us murdering each other be helpful? Ah, that’s right, it was supposed to be the virtual reality equivalent of a get-along shirt originally, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“If you two are quite finished,” the Negotiator snapped, red-faced, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Since you have it all figured out you could just make this easy and tell us where the recordings are.”

“Destroyed them.”

That much should have been obvious.

“Wh-what?”

Apparently not.

“I destroyed them,” he repeated, more slowly though he doubted saying it again would make him understand it any better. “Make something up.”

“Oh. I… I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell us what happened to you?” The man asked, flustered and grasping at straws. He was smarter than he’d assumed if he were skipping threats and moving straight to just asking politely.

Komaeda laughed, leaning away to cross his arms over his chest, “Don’t you have the Ultimate Novelist working for you? Why not ask her to write something for you? She does still work for you, doesn’t she?”

“We did. She told us to… uh… go… well, that is, she said no,” he finished sheepishly. “So, um… won’t you… please tell us what happened?”

He could sink their boat, kill both of them here and now… but there would be others. Others who would come and disturb their peaceful days again and again. Though in the end they would finally give up and just tell whatever story was most convenient for them, it would be several long months of regular irritation until that time.

They liked to think of themselves as the good guys, after all, and good guys at least tried to tell the truth. Even if they had to badger the details out of a group of traumatized people to do it.

Better to just put a stop to it now.

“The same thing that happened during the first killing game,” Izuru offered finally. “Only with different people and in the end it was all a simulation and the killing game was initiated by a virus. The survivors escaped and everyone woke up, alive and well and free of the brainwashing program that had made them despair in the first place. I’m certain you know the rest.”

“But that’s….”

“All you’re getting. Figure out the rest of the gory details yourself. Don’t come back. We’ll see ourselves back to the island.”

“We will?” Komaeda inquired, but he didn’t protest when he took hold of his hand once more and used it to tow him out of the room past the nondescript man who watched them go in silence.

The swim took longer than he anticipated though he still didn’t attempt to drown Komaeda and they arrived back on the shore in time to collapse against the sand as the boat vanished into the distance.

As they lay there on the sand, catching their breath, he finally asked the one question he didn’t know the answer to.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to. Did it surprise you?”

“It did.”

“Oh,” Komaeda commented thoughtfully, flopping over onto his back and splaying out like a starfish. “It was awful, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I don’t have enough comparative data to make an accurate assessment.”

“Oh. Well,” Komaeda rolled onto his side and he could feel the weight of his gaze though he didn’t turn to make it. “We could try it again sometime. If you want.”

“Okay,” he replied after a moment, turning his head just enough to see the smile that turned up the corners Komaeda’s lips. “Maybe tomorrow.”

#kamukoma #fanfiction #komahina secret exchange

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thought-42 · 5 years

Text

Clone Wars fic Day One

So @stoppit-keepout gave me 'Abdicate' as a prompt word, and this sprung forth, but SK I promise I will write you something else for a fandom you're actually in. Meanwhile, please enjoy the first chunk of a very random modern au featuring cody and Obi-Wan being goddamn disasters. Hopefully there will be a new slice of this universe every day until New Years, but who the hell knows.

Obi-Wan meets Cody at the Big Brothers Big Sisters Christmas party. He's there with Anakin, who has just been kicked out of another foster home and is clearly feeling celebratory as a result. Obi-Wan has given up asking about the experiences Anakin has that lead him to prefer group homes or sleeping rough, but he can make some educated guesses.

Ahsoka and Plo are there as well, having shown up early along with Wolffe to set up the decorations. They're all showing off the official adoption papers to whoever will stand still long enough to read them, and Wolffe and Ahsoka don't say anything to each other without including "sister" or "brother" somewhere in the 'address while Plo looks on like he's never realized his life could be this perfect.

"Hey, big brother," Ahsoka says, "is your cousin coming? I think Kix will like him."

"They'll be here as long as Rex's car can make it," Wolffe says. "They were going to pick up Jesse from his grandma's, so they might get stuck in bridge traffic."

"Rex's car is held together with literal duct tape," Anakin explains in an aside to Obi-Wan. "I keep telling him I can fix it, but he won't let me."

"I didn't know Rex's brother was going to mentor Kix," Obi-Wan says.

"It's not official," Ahsoka says.

"There will be a proper introduction," Plo assures him. "Cody has already been approved, but you know how Kix is."

"Smarter than anyone they've paired him up with?" Obi-Wan says, calmly. He's rather defensive of Kix, even not having a particularly close relationship with him. He's had to train himself out of his impatience with people who can't keep up with him, and he can appreciate Kix's unwillingness to waste his time. Qui-Gon would scold him for such thoughts, but Qui-Gon is currently half way across the country at some sort of plants and yoga retreat instead of spending the holidays with his wife or his step-father or his not-really son and the child who worships the ground he walks on.

It's fine. Obi-Wan isn't bitter. Tahl is spending Christmas Eve drinking wine with her coworkers from the library, and Obi-Wan and Anakin are here, and Christmas Day they'll all trek across the city to Dooku's disgustingly fancy mansion for an awkward Christmas meal and criticism of their life choices. At least with Qui-Gon absent everything should remain civil. Unless Anakin's teenaged bravado has developed further in the past year. Obi-Wan is doing Anakin the favour of pretending to believe him when he says he doesn't care about Qui-Gon's absence. He suspects Anakin is doing the same for him, which is uncomfortable for a whole host of reasons.

"I think Kix and Cody will get along," Wolffe says, tongue between his teeth as he carefully glues googly eyes on a felt snowman. Obi-Wan catches Plo snapping a photo, clearly amused.

Obi-Wan lets himself get dragged into the cookie decorating catastrophe happening on the other side of the room, and he remains entirely engrossed until Mace claps his hands and shouts, "Pizza's ready, I need two volunteers to go across and pick it up, who's going with Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan throws up his sugar-coated hands indignantly. "What have I ever done to you, Mace? Am I not a delight, a breath of orderly, reliable, and charming fresh air—"

"I'll go," someone says, and Rex appears out of nowhere to shove Obi-Wan toward the coat wrack. There's a dark-haired man already there, snow still caught on the collar of his jacket, clearly not having been inside long enough even to settle in.

Obi-Wan sighs dramatically for the entertainment of the younger children, but the way he wipes the icing off his hands on Mace's jacket is entirely for himself. The dark-haired man, Rex's brother, he has to be, frowns severely at him. Obi-Wan smiles brightly.

He pulls on his coat and winds his scarf around his neck and over most of his face.

"I'm Obi-Wan," he says. "And yes, this scarf was a gift and I will be guilted terribly should I not wear it."

"Cody," he says. "I'm Rex's brother?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan says. "I had guessed as much."

"Present from your grandmother?" Cody asks, holding the door for Obi-Wan.

"The scarf? No, no, my... semi-absent father figure, actually. His step father bought him a book on knitting as a teenager and he has somehow maintained the habit without improving his skills over the past thirty years."

"Ahh," Cody says, uncertainly. "So have you been involved..." Cody waves a gloved hand uncertainly. "With this, I mean— this is the first time I've been to any sort of event—"

"No, no," Obi-Wan says, understanding the question because it is exhaustingly familiar. Because clearly only people with biological nuclear families have healthy and ideal childhoods. "No, I only got involved a few years ago. Qui-Gon, my... father, met Anakin at the food bank. Anakin was there with his mother and Qui-Gon was volunteering, because sometimes he remembers that he grew up rich and has week-long bouts of frantic guilt-induced philanthropy. Anakin became quite attached to him, and when his mother passed away we spent a great deal of time helping him through the fallout. Naturally, Qui-Gon lost interest shortly after, but by then Anakin's social worker had gotten us involved in BBBS."

"I presume he hasn't improved at emotional intelligence with age, either? Given his absence."

Obi-Wan laughs, startled. "Not at all, actually. And you, what brings you here? Did Rex wear you down?"

"He told me about Kix," Cody says. "Admittedly this isn't my first choice when it comes to giving back to the community, but I wouldn't feel right knowingly walking away from a job for which I'm uniquely suited."

"It's not a job," Obi-Wan says, sharply.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "You're right."

They cross the intersection in silence. None of the sidewalks are shovelled and Obi-Wan swallows down his irritated rant.

"I said that poorly," Cody says, hunching his shoulders. "I only meant that this level of social interaction and engagement with strangers— I'm not good at it. That's all I meant."

Obi-Wan, who has never particularly experienced or understood this sort of struggle, smiles sympathetically. "Of course, very understandable."

Cody's eyebrows go up. "I'm sure. You don't need to lie to spare my feelings."

Obi-Wan jerks open the door to the pizza restaurant harder than he intends to. "I apologize."

"I wasn't offended."

Inside the heat is stifling in contrast to the chill of late afternoon. Obi-Wan huffs a breath through his scarf and steps up to the counter. "They need two minutes," Obi-Wan tells Cody once he's exchanged words with the person behind the counter.

They lean together against the wall, dishwater dull sunlight splashed across the tiles at their feet. A drop of sweat creeps down Obi-Wan's spine.

"You should take your scarf off," Cody says, after a moment, like he's been trying to stop himself.

Obi-Wan blinks uncertainly, then agreeably pulls the scarf of his face, loosening the loops around his neck and unzipping his jacket a few inches.

Cody stares out the window. "Sorry. You're obviously hot," he says. "It's boiling in here."

Obi-Wan doesn't know what to say, given that he has absolutely no reason to have left the scarf pulled up and thus has no leg to stand on when it comes to the oddity of the moment.

Back at the community centre they're descended upon by a rush of children and teens, stacks of pizza boxes snatched from their arms and vanishing into the crowd. Obi-Wan glances over to the cookie table, and is unsurprised to see the lack of progress.

It takes a few seconds and some bouncing up on his toes to find Kix, and when he does it's to see him curled up on a hard plastic chair in the back corner behind the water cooler, cell phone pressed to his ear, his other arm wrapped around himself and looking very much like he's trying to remain calm through an exceedingly distressing conversation.

Cody is standing very still, hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting around and clearly unsure what to do. Obi-Wan, who is a good person, says "Come on, then. While I recognize that it's meant to be the process of decorating the cookies that holds the value, I also am physically incapable of leaving a job half done, and now that the real food has arrived I suspect no one else will be doing it."

"Yes, ok," Cody says, quickly.

Anakin finds them five minutes later, half a piece of pizza in his mouth and a spring in his step. "Rex is gonna let me take a look at his car!"

"I'm glad," Obi-Wan says, and means it. He may not trust Anakin with a lot of things, but when it comes to mechanics Obi-Wan trusts him far more than any "professional".

"you guys should get some pizza before it's all gone," Anakin says. "Hi, by the way. You're Cody, right?"

"Yeah," Cody says. "You're Anakin."

"That's me. And now I'm a little worried that rex talks about me."

"Would you believe me if I said only good things?"

"I accidentally pushed him off the roof of the old theatre last winter," says Anakin. Cody nods.

"We're busy with this," Obi-Wan says, nodding to the cookies. "Besides, the pizza should go to the youth, not to us."

Anakin rolls his eyes. "Whatever, it's food, we're all here, don't make it weird."

"Busy," Obi-wan repeats.

Anakin waves a hand. "Hey, hey, I get it. You're finally getting to experience an extremely stereotypical holiday tradition that you never did when you were a kid, and it's nice because you've been all fucked up with Qui-Gon away."

"What?!" Obi-Wan snaps, incredulous, at the same time Cody says

"That's exactly what we're doing, actually. Couldn't have said it better myself."

Obi-Wan considers upending the container of sprinkles over Cody's head.

#commander cody #Obi Wan Kenobi #codywan #tumblrfic tag #star wars why?

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spyder-m · 5 years

Text

Love Games

ao3 / ff.net

Summary: On a particularly grueling trip through Mementos, the Phantom Thieves play a few rounds of "Never Have I Ever" to fend off boredom. In doing so, they learn more about their leader and advisor than they had anticipated. Shumako.

Ann's eyes carefully scanned the bleak expanse that was Mementos, low-level shadows scurrying away from the blare of headlights.

Blue irises strained as they adjusted to the darkness of the subway, not wanting the target to disappear from her sight.

"I spy with my little eye… something that's brown and grey-"

"Railroad tracks," Futaba answered, not even bothering to look up from her laptop.

"Wow, Oracle. You got it on the first try! How did you know?"

"Are you for real?!" Ryuji exclaimed; the outburst startling a quietly sketching Yusuke beside him. "There's only like three things down here you coulda possibly been lookin' at. Urgh! This game sucks!

Delving this far into the depths made for a long and arduous trip.

Though Morgana's bus form was fairly spacious, with the seven of them packed in together; and a lack of proper air-conditioning; it was becoming a little stifling.

Some of the more fiery members of the group were beginning to get on each other's nerves.

Beyond the occasional pit-stop to stretch their legs, fighting off shadows and scouring out the different nooks of Mementos for treasures or potential targets, served as their only reprieve.

Even Makoto couldn't find too much of a distraction in the drive. Each level was beginning to look eerily similar, and Futaba's persona could usually map out a clear path through to the next exit. Save for swerving to avoid the odd shadow, it didn't require much concentration. Her muscles were already settling unconsciously into a rhythm.

Still, she had been able to find comfort in the silent form of Joker beside her. It was remarkable how well he could read her and ease the tension she felt with a gentle smile or supporting touch of his hand. The calm washing over her like a healing spell.

He was measured in the affectionate gestures, not wanting to attract the attention of their passengers; currently seeking out other ways to pass the time.

"Alright, fine. Let's hear you suggest something then, Skull." Ann huffed, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms.

Blinking, the blond scratched his head in thought; not having expected her to turn to him for a suggestion.

"Well, uh... there's that game Westerners always play in movies." He offered. "Y'know, the one where they hold up their fingers and say something they've never done before."

"Isn't that a drinking game?" Makoto's glare lifted, catching the others in the rear-view mirror. "I'll remind you we're all underage and in a car."

"It don't have to be." Ryuji waved his arms, not wanting to incur the wrath of the team's advisor. "Come on! It'll be fun!"

Despite some initial skepticism, the crew supposed that Ryuji's suggestion might not actually be such a bad idea.

The founding members of the Phantom Thieves had been together for several months now and felt pretty tightly knit. The exposure to one another's pasts, their most guarded secrets and inner selves only helped to shift their relationship towards something much more intimate.

Still, between time in the Metaverse, strategy meetings, studying for exams, and part-time jobs, they didn't get many opportunities to spend time together as friends.

They were still a lot of things they didn't know about each other as people.

Haru was their newest member and didn't seem to have many friends outside of their immediate circle. Futaba was still coming out of her shell and sharing secrets among friends could help to continue building her social skills. Yusuke… Well, Yusuke was an enigma. For as long as they'd known him, there was still a lot they hadn't quite figured out.

Even Makoto; though having acclimated well with the team and into her advisory role; was still striving to more learn about her peers.

These were the kind of games kids their age would normally play at parties; a luxury their unique extra-curricular activities as the Phantom Thieves often deprived them of.

It could be a great opportunity for them to get to know each other better.

"Ooo, I'll start!" Futaba called, her hand shooting up. "Never have I ever… gone on a trip to Hawaii!"

"Wha- Oracle! That's not fair!"

"Mwehehehe…" The youngest member cackled. "Well, I had to get one up on you guys. Never underestimate the original Medjed."

"Well, alright. That's one finger down for... Everyone except Oracle. Alright, Noir. It's your turn."

"Oh. Well, let me see." Haru pondered. "Never have I ever... Tried the 6,000 yen Dark Ivory coffee at the Wilton Hotel."

The engine rumbled amidst the dip in conversation, the teens looking between one another with blank expressions.

"Uh, Noir?" Ann eventually broke the silence. "Clearly none of us have done that before. Now you have to lower a finger. You're supposed try to try and get us out."

"Oh, I could never do that. You're all my friends."

"But that's the point of the game!" Ryuji's voice rose again. "You're gonna lose at this rate!"

"Moving on." Ren interrupted, his lips sliding into a smirk. "Never have I ever eaten so much fatty tuna that I made myself sick."

"What?!" The Mona-bus vibrated as an indignant mewl reverberated throughout. "Why are you singling me out, Joker? I'm not playing. I don't even have fingers!"

"We can keep track. That's one down for Mona."

"Hmph. Fine, but I'm going next."

"Whatever. Do your worst."

"Never have I ever… called a Maid Service before."

"You damn cat!" Ryuji exclaimed, thumping the side of the car. "I thought we agreed to keep quiet about that."

"You called a Maid Service?" Ann side-eyed Ryuji, a shudder crawling up the base of his spine.

"Well, uh…" Anxious, Ryuji glance darted around the inside of the car, desperate for a lifeline. "Hey! I- I'm not the only one who's guilty here. Right, leader?"

Swallowing, Ren begrudgingly lowered a finger.

"What?!"

"A maid's services? Hmm, how fascinating. I wonder if they would be willing to serve as the model for my next piece?"

"Dude, it's 5,000 yen a visit. Like you'd be able to afford that."

"Also, I thought you agreed; no more nude paintings!"

"Anyway! Uh… Panther; you're up next."

"Oh, me? Hm, well... Never have I ever… dated before."

To the surprise of no one in the group, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Futaba each kept the fingers up, while Haru lowered a finger. However, given the circumstances surrounding her and her fiancé, the Thieves were happy not to ask for any more details. What piqued their curiosity more so, was when Makoto and Ren both each lowered a finger.

"Wait… What?!"

"Dude! You mean you were out scorin' hotties and didn't think to tell me?!"

"Well, Joker has had an entire life outside of Tokyo that we are not privy to…"

"Plus, his charm stats are like… maxed out."

"Right. Still, I really wasn't expecting that from you, Queen."

"W- well, there is someone… That I'm seeing."

The car jolted, almost swerving off of the tracks and into the station's wall, as Ann pulled herself over the front seat.

"What?!"

"Panther, please! Stay in your seat."

"Oops. Sorry!" Ann flushed, returning to her spot in the middle row. "I just can't believe you'd keep something like that from me."

"W- well, we both agreed to keep things... discreet."

"Perhaps we should move on from this topic for the time being," Yusuke suggested. "It seems to be getting Panther rather excited."

"Right." Joker nodded. "Well, Queen; it's your turn."

Makoto paused, one hand slipping from the steering wheel to touch her chin.

There was much she had not experienced before finding the Phantom Thieves, things that many would see as a normal part of life for a typical, Japanese teenager. If she were being tactical, there were likely several answers she could give that would get most of the others out.

Still, recently she had been fortunate to gain friends who brought more of simple pleasures into her life. In particular, it was thanks to the young man seated across from her that she had been able to broaden her horizons.

Though, thinking on it; as she caught Joker in her peripheral vision; Makoto realised, with a flush, there were still things she wished to learn.

"Never have I ever... kissed someone before."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute." Ryuji interjected. "You're with a guy but you haven't even swapped spit yet?"

"Skull." Ann sighed, her nose wrinkling at the boy's crude description.

"N- no, it's fine, really." Makoto countered, lifting her hands from the wheel briefly. "It's all still very new to me. I think he's just been holding back on my account. I just wish there was a way I could let him know that I want it as much as I think he does."

"Aw, don't worry, Queen!" Futaba encouraged. "I'm sure he'll come to his senses."

"Yeah! Any guy would be lucky to be with you."

"Anyway, looks like Joker and Noir are the only ones who lowered their fingers. No surprises there."

"Actually," Joker cleared his throat, and raised his hand, showing that his total was still at seven.

"Okay, now I'm confused."

"What else is new?"

A pained meow rang from the car as Ryuji's bat struck the inside wall.

Makoto flushed as she felt Joker's gaze cover her; the stark white of his mask accentuating his eyes, drawing her to them. She bit her lip, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel.

"I suppose you could say I was... holding back."

"I- is that, so?" Makoto answered, trying to keep her eyes focused ahead, away from Ren's longing stare.

She had hoped that in keeping her answers curt and concentrating on the road ahead the conversation would shift, the rest of the Thieves carrying on with their game. Yet, their interest had seemingly turned towards their leader, as he watched her with a fond smile.

"Queen, pull over here." Joker instructed abruptly; his tone sharp.

Makoto slowed the vehicle to stop, suspecting that Joker had spotted a target.

She immediately ripped off her seatbelt and moved to open the door, more than willing to steer the focus away from their conversation.

However, at the flash of red covering her own gloved hand and ceasing her movement, she turned, catching Joker's mask with a puzzled expression.

Having readied herself for battle, Makoto's normally sharp reflexes had been prepared to react the moment something grasped at her. Though, her guard slipped as Joker's fingers caught her the jaw.

Their masks clinked together as he pulled her face towards his own; the breath that ripped involuntarily from her throat was caught by the soft pressure of his lips.

Her first kiss.

The scent of coffee still lingered on his breath, likely remnants from his breakfast at Leblanc. The bitter taste warmed her chest, striking and familiar.

Now unimpeded by her seatbelt, Makoto fell deeper into Ren's embrace, her hands lifting to catch in the thick clumps of his hair.

It was surprisingly soft.

Spurred on by the sensation of Makoto kissing back, Ren trailed his hands down to the swell of her hips, appreciating how her suit clung to them. Makoto's eyes bulged in surprise as she was pulled into Joker's lap, though she didn't break from his lips, her arms surrounding him.

With that daring gesture, it struck her that she was sharing her first kiss not with Ren, but Joker; an experience distinct from what she had anticipated. It hadn't been a shy, chaste caress that had caught her; a moment their relationship had steadily being building towards; but something bolder, more extravagant.

The gesture, in a sense, reflected how they had entered each other's lives, how they had awoken to their true selves in the Metaverse; abruptly and explosively. How everything strange and otherworldly suddenly began to make sense, as if it had been there, waiting, all along.

There was something captivating about the suave, cocky persona Ren assumed in the Metaverse. Seeing those soft, shy smiles of his break into confident grins; his dark, mysterious eyes, shining and proud. The way he remained strong and collected for the rest of his team, even during their most tense battles.

That he was forward enough to make the first move; where in the real world he may have hesitated; closing the distance between them like this, his lips flickering into a familiar smirk as they caressed against her own.

It was... sexy.

The magic dissipated as Makoto became conscious of the eyes boring into her, sliding up her spine like cold digits as she recalled, abruptly, that they weren't alone. Gasping, Makoto slipped from Joker's arms, glancing mortified, towards their friends.

Ann's hands had lifted to cover her mouth, barely containing the bright smile lighting her features. There was a sheen in her wide, starry eyes. Haru had moved up beside her, hands similarly cradled together.

"Oh, how romantic."

With a smirk, Futaba had, reflexively, pulled out her smartphone; a pout settling across her features when she remembered the camera function was useless in the Metaverse.

Beside her, Yusuke was rifling through the back of the car, eventually producing a canvas and a selection of brushes, frantically setting them up.

"You two, hold your positions! I must capture this!"

"Inari!? When did you bring that with you? And also, why?"

Ryuji watched on in curious silence, his brow furrowed as he scratched the back of his head.

"Huh? Skull? What's up?"

"So, like... Do they have to drop a finger now, or what?"

#persona 5 #p5 #shumako #fanfiction #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #makoto niijima #ann takamaki #futaba sakura #ryuji sakamoto #yusuke kitagawa #haru okumura

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mademoiselleenjolras · 7 years

Text

Is That Gaelic?

So, a while back there was a swarm of Irish Newsie headcannons on the page of the lovely @earlyjunes, and it reminded me of this fic. It has been sitting half-written for FOREVER, but I finally finished it and I think I’m okay with how it turned out. Let me know what you think!

It wasn’t often that Davey made the climb up to Jack’s “penthouse,” but today he needed to. Jack had forgotten to get his share of the day’s earnings, and Davey had doubled back the moment he realized. He didn’t want Jack to miss dinner, or even the night’s rent, because of it. And really, any excuse to hang out at the lodging house and take a break from home was a good one, in his opinion. He enjoyed the evenings he spent with his friends playing cards or roughhousing in the crowded living room. Race had pointed him upstairs when he had arrived, telling him to find Kelly there and drag him down for a game of poker.

As he ducked out the lodging house window and started up the ladder, he could hear someone singing up above him. This wasn’t a rare occurrence in itself; it was an open secret that Jack could often be found singing, especially if he was alone. It was definitely his voice. What caught Davey’s interest this time was that the words were unfamiliar to him. The longer he listened, the more sure he was that whatever Jack was singing wasn’t English. He hadn’t known Jack to speak any other language.

By the time he reached the top of the ladder, he could see Jack standing with his back turned, working intently on what looked like a new drawing. He hadn’t yet noticed his friend.

“Is that Gaelic?”

Jack jumped violently, whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?” He shouted, shoving his drawings behind him reflexively. He puffed up his chest, trying to project as much bravado as he could, before realizing who had joined him on the fire escape. His eyes rolled animatedly. “Dave, ain’t nobody ever told ya not t'sneak up on a guy?” He demanded.

“Sorry,” Davey said, mildly apologetic as he realized that he had actually frightened the other boy. Jack shrugged him off, turning around to properly put his art supplies away. Intensely curious, however, Davey decided to press the subject.

“I didn’t know you were Irish,” he ventured. Jack’s shoulders tensed visibly, but he didn’t deny it.

“Ain’t somethin’ I advertise,” he admitted tersely. Davey, in his excitement, didn’t register the guarded tone. The fact that he had received an answer was enough for him to keep going.

“Are you from Ireland? No wait, you’d probably have an accent. Not that you don’t have one already, but it definitely isn’t Irish. Does that mean your folks were from Ireland?” He asked, rambling a bit. One of his favorite things in the world was learning about different cultures, and here he was just finding out that his best friend was from somewhere far-off and interesting.

“My Ma was from over there,” Jack bit out. His past, his parents, his heritage, they were all taboo subjects to Jack Kelly, Man of Mystery. Davey admittedly didn’t know it, but he was trespassing on all of them.

“Is that where you learned the song? Did she teach you? What’s it about?”

“Dunno whats it about. Don’ speak any Irish.”

Davey tilted his head, confused. “What? Why not? You obviously know the words, why not figure out what they-”

“Why do you wanna know?” Jack finally exclaimed, unable to take Davey’s rapid-fire questions any longer. “So I’s Irish. I’ll soak yas if ya tells anyone, ‘bout that or the singin’, ya got that?” Davey realized with wide eyes that his friend wasn’t thrilled with the topic of conversation. Jack glared at him from across the fire escape. All Davey could do for a moment was blink at him, shocked at the sudden outburst. He went very still in order to avoid being the subject of another one, a habit he had never really grown out of. Watching Jack carefully, he waited for the other boy to make the next move.

It didn’t take too long for Jack to break. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered petulantly, sitting down and leaning against the railing. The tension dissipated with his movement. “I just don’ like talkin’ ‘bout it.”

Davey felt himself release a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He crossed the fire escape and sat next to Jack, bumping his shoulder to show there were no hard feelings. “Y'know, I think it’s pretty neat,” he offered. Jack turned to look at him sideways, suspicion clear in his eyes, and the other boy continued. “It’s an interesting culture. Unique.”

He received a bitter smirk in response. “Yeah, well, most folks don’ think like yous,” he scoffed.

“Is that why you haven’t told anyone?”

“There’s a buncha of reasons I ain’t told nobody, nitwit!” Jack snapped, his tone almost annoyed. Davey gave him an unimpressed look. Some of the anxiety on Jack’s face faded again as he nodded guiltily. Davey meant no harm by his questions- hell, he meant no harm by anything he ever did- and there was no use taking his frustrations out on the other boy. He looked away, eyes searching the rooftops around them for something of which Davey wasn’t sure. “Bein’ Irish ain’t really somethin’ what makes you real… favorable with people. It ain’t so bad as it used t'be, back when folks was just gettin’ offa boats and all,” he said with a shrug. “I ain’t seen one of them “No Irish” ads in the papes in a couple'a weeks. Don’ think I’d really be fired if anyone knew. But it still ain’t exactly… safe, havin’ folks like the Delanceys know about it.“

Davey nodded, considering the sense in Jack’s words. Being found out by the Delanceys could get him soaked just for his heritage. An ugly thought, but a distinct possibility. Davey knew how Irish people had been treated in the past, had seen the scattered "No Irish Need Apply” signs throughout the city and had heard of how common they used to be. They were fading, it was true, but the sentiments behind them weren’t uncommon yet. Jack’s parents had probably hidden the fact that they were Irish from the world for most of his childhood, and who did he have now to tell him it wasn’t truly necessary anymore?

“Do the other guys know?” Davey asked. Jack shook his head. His jaw was tense, letting him know that it wasn’t something Jack was proud of.

“They ain’t stupid, but I ain’t ever really told 'em neither. I ain’t lyin’ to 'em, if that’s what you’s thinkin’.”

Davey shook his head. “It wasn’t. Do you think they would mind, if they really knew?”

Jack considered it for a moment. His eyes flirted from one building to the next, still purposefully avoiding Davey’s own.

“Doubt it,” he finally sighed. “They all knows about Race, for sure. Most of 'em ain’t exactly from 'round here, either.” Davey nodded. He recalled Romeo, in particular, exclaiming something or other in Spanish when excited or particularly angry. None of the other newsies seemed to mind. Certainly none of them minded the fact that he himself was Jewish.

Jack was a simply a private person when it came to his past, always had been, always would be. The fact that he had only been snapped at for bringing it up, rather than punched in the mouth, was a bit of a surprise to Davey. He decided to let his friend have his little secrecies, but had one more question before he could really let it go.

“Do you miss talking about it?”

Jack fell silent for another long stretch. Just as Davey began to think he wouldn’t get an answer, though, he got one he didn’t quite expect. “I miss hearin’ her sing it,” Jack admitted quietly. “I don’ miss a lot and I ain’t remember much of her. I was only a kid when she… y'know. But it was always nice t'hear. And now s'close to all what I gots left of her. I tries t’ sing it when no one’s 'round, so’s I don’t forget.”

Davey nodded, feeling honored Jack had told him the truth. It spoke of a lot of trust on Jack’s part. “Well, if you ever want to talk more about it, I’d be happy to listen,” he said. Jack’s answering smile was all the thanks he knew he would get. “In the meantime, I’ve been told there’s a very high-stakes poker game about to start downstairs.” He stood up, offering a hand to help Jack do the same. The leader smirked, accepting it.

“I s'pose I oughta come in an’ knock Racer down a couple'a pegs,” he agreed with a serious nod. “Since ya sure can’t do it yourself.”

“Hey!” Davey feigned offense, despite the fact that they both knew he was lousy at poker. They shared a laugh and turned to go. As they headed back down the ladder, Davey glanced at Jack’s face, trying to see anything that would give the boy away as Irish. Shaking his head, he decided that maybe he could see it, now that he knew what to look for. And didn’t that describe their whole friendship?

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #davey jacobs #irish newsies #I cherish Irish Jack Kelly okay #kats writing

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smallnico · 7 years

Note

How do I tell my crush I like them?

well, there are a lot of ways, depending on who it is, what you like to do, and what sort of relationship you already have with them! really, imagination is the limit. whether you can work up the nerve to do it is a whole other thing entirely (and i promise that’s not like a dig or anything, i believe in you, but i know how difficult and nerve-wracking it can be to bare your heart to someone like that).

if you’re already friends with the person you have a crush on, probably the best way to go about it is to just talk about it with them. like, it’s simple, but it’s generally the most effective way to get your message across, since a lot of romantic gestures can be misconstrued as acts of friendship when made by a friend. just be open about it! if a day comes where you’re feeling particularly brave (because i promise the day will almost never come when you feel Ready if it’s something that’s freaking you out), start a conversation like “hey can i talk to you about something kind of personal” -- this kind of sets them up to be more sympathetic and gives them an opportunity to let you know if it’s a bad time right now, which is also important, you’ve got to respect each others’ feelings -- and then now that you’ve roped yourself into this situation, if you’re like me, that’s all it really takes to activate the “fuck it” instinct to bypass the rest of your anxiety. like you’re here now, you’ve already started it, you might as well get it over with. alternatively, if they’re too busy to talk about personal stuff right then, they’ll know something’s on your mind and will probably ask about it later, so it’s not on you to work up the courage again.

but if you’re not already friends, or if you’re just not already terribly close, being direct can kind of end in unpredictable ways, so it’s better to flirt first to get the message across. and if that idea freaks you out a little, then don’t worry, flirting (as i’m using the term kind of loosely to refer to modern courtship behaviour) isn’t actually all that hard, all things considered. advice:

- the best way to engage your crush and gauge their interest in you is to invite them to hang out with you when you’re both free. ask if they’d like to grab lunch sometime, or coffee! if you like the same video games, ask if they’d like to do multiplayer. if you think they’d be interested in a movie you want to see, ask if they’d like to come. bring friends for moral support if you need it, but if you want to really get to know them, one on one is the way to go. NOTE: this can also be a “be my friend” sort of thing, but in any case, hanging out with your crush more often gives you the opportunity to get to know them and what they’re into, and to see what they’re really like. that’s always a plus! but you want them to know you’re interested in them romantically, so this isn’t one of those things where you can just do the one thing and Bam. although if you do end up being friends with your crush (and you still have a crush on them after), “just talk to them” becomes the best option again.

- if they ask something along the lines of “is this like a date” just be like, “yeah, if you’re cool with that, if you’re not it can be a friend thing”. if they ask that, they’ve caught on! and if they’re happy about the date thing, then there you go, you’re all set.NOTE: if they’re not cool with the date thing, sometimes that’s just how life is. rejection stings, but it’s ultimately not worth losing a friend over. if you find that without the prospect of a relationship, your friendship just doesn’t have that glowy friendy feeling, then it’s... probably for the best that you didn’t do a relationship. not all of your romantic endeavors have to start out as friendship, but if you can’t be friends with someone you’re into outside of romancey feelings, then spending time with them (as one does in a relationship) would likely get really boring. the excitement of a crush can sometimes make you feel more interested in someone than you actually are, and that excitement fades when the element of stress or danger is over, so you want to be with someone that’s still cool and fun and hang-out-with-able after you’ve established requitedness.

- look for nice things to say about them! don’t just kind of blindly flatter them, look for genuine, nice things to point out and compliment them on and verbally appreciate about them. look for things you like! skills, style, looks, attitude, don’t be afraid to compliment the people you like! just only do it when it’s honest. not only does being genuinely positive about others help you feel more confident about yourself, it makes other people happy to be recognized and complimented. be genuine! and smile when you do it! NOTE: moderation. moderation, moderation, moderation. try and be natural about this! excessive compliments, or really detailed compliments, can come off as odd to people who don’t know you very well (friends? friends are another story). you also want to be careful to not do things like compliment the way someone smells unless it’s obvious they’re wearing perfume. anything that comes off as overtly sexual is also stuff you’d like to try and avoid until you know more about the person and their boundaries. as for excess, just don’t do it several times in a row. like, it doesn’t always come off as weird, but it often makes a situation feel... awkward. again, feel free to compliment stuff that you like about someone when it occurs to you, just don’t get carried away.

- do stuff for them that is uniquely you. personally, a think i’ve noticed about myself is that i usually end up drawing for the people i love a fair bit. drawing for, or just drawing them, period. it doesn’t even really have to be for them specifically: if you enjoy doing something, inviting another person into that world is a good way for them to get to know you better as well! plus, if you make something for them specifically, that’s a pretty good indicator that you like them. it shows you’re willing to put time and effort into stuff you hope they’ll enjoy, and if they don’t at least appreciate that time and effort, they’re not worth your time or your effort, so there’s that too. better to figure that out early before the time and effort they don’t appreciate has to do with the love and care you put into a relationship.NOTE: there’s lots of ways to do this! just, anything with a genuine personal touch. bearing your heart is something that you have to sometimes practice to feel comfortable doing it. write them a handwritten note, fold them something out of paper, draw something, show them a song you really like, introduce them to your favourite tv show, make food for them, loan them a book you really like, invite them to a meeting of your favourite club, take them to your favourite place to eat, recommend them a beverage you really like, give them a tarot reading, totally nerd out at them about something you’re interested in, talk about that weird dream you had, tell them about a story you’re writing, tell them about what you want to do when you grow up... the list goes on! sharing your happiness with someone is a great way to communicate to them that you like them.

really, what this turned into was an odyssey of “here’s how to get anyone worth a damn to like you”. feelings or no feelings, you should never let anyone shame you for sharing your love and happiness with them, and there’s no clearly defined reliable way to effectively confess your feelings for someone other than, quite simply... doing so. sometimes you’ve just gotta step forward and go for it, in whatever personal way you’re comfortable doing it -- leaving them a note, meeting them in person, sending a text or an email -- the one thing i’d recommend would be to leave other people out of it. do it in private, try to do it without giving a play-by-play to your friends at the same time (because while they’re your friends and they have a vested interest in your happiness, you don’t need backseat advice telling you what and what not to do as you’re doing it). that can cause a few problems when you’re trying to bare your own heart to another person. tell them how it went down after it’s already gone down! in the same vein of “leave other people out of it”, don’t do it in public. dear god, don’t ever. confessing a crush is something you just don’t want to make a show of because it puts so much more pressure on both you and the confess-ee to keep a cool head about the situation and make decisions based on how you really feel rather than based on worries about whether or not you’ll be judged or embarrassed for whatever happens next.

there’s also no strict checklist of what and what not to do with regards to having a crush or confessing a crush. there are so many little things you can do to express fondness for another person, and while none of them will clearly tell them you like them as much as telling them you like them will, they will all send the message to anyone open to reading it that you are fond of them, and it’ll come as less of a shock when you later end up actually telling them. not to mention rejection is less likely to be harsh if the person has had time to think about whether or not they’re actually interested in you like that.

(which, don’t worry about rejection. it’s not the end of the world. it hurts and it seems like a lot, but it’ll pass. don’t worry about being rejected -- there’s not really anything you can do to force someone to be into you, so there’s not a whole lot you can do to make sure it doesn’t happen, so it’s not worth worrying about until it actually happens. don’t worry about being rejected! just focus on confessing and clear communication.)

this got kind of disorganized, and i’m so sorry about that! but i hope i could help at least a little bit. best of luck to you on your romantic pursuits! moral of the story is be yourself, be genuine, be open and free with your positive thoughts, and when the time comes, take a deep breath, and just talk to them about how you feel. it’ll all turn out okay!

#nico's advice column #thanks for coming to me with this by the way i really hope i could help you #feelings are wild and a Hell Of A Time TM so it means a lot to me that you think highly enough of me to trust me with yours #i'd be interested in hearing how it goes too if you're willing to talk about that too #anon #the askbox

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domain-of-friendship-blog · 7 years

Text

01: Go with the Flow

"Ugh, what's the holdup?"

Warm afternoon sunlight shone down on the grounds of Canterlot High as Rainbow Dash leaned against the proud Wondercolt statue out front, crossing her arms with a huff.

"Sorry..." Twilight Sparkle spent a moment adjusting her glasses before resuming her task. "These screws must have come loose while I was carrying it around in my bag all day."

Sunset Shimmer rolled her eyes. "Chill, Rainbow. Building unique magical inventions is probably harder than she makes it look."

Applejack quirked an eyebrow. "What'd you say this gizmo of yours was for, again?"

Twilight fiddled with the hinge on the small device she'd spent the past several minutes repairing. "After that incident with Juniper Montage, I thought it would be a good idea to have a sensor for detecting magical artifacts and anomalies ahead of time so we'd be more prepared to deal with them. I just needed to make sure this one didn't... well, you know." Closing the device, she lowered her hands into her lap and averted her gaze from the group at large, clearly unwilling to finish her thought.

"We know." Fluttershy crouched beside Twilight and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "And you know we believe in you, don't you?"

Smiling weakly, Twilight put her hand over Fluttershy's. "Thanks... that means a lot, it really does. Thinking about the past still stings a little sometimes, that's all."

Sunset smirked. "I know the feeling."

"Is it ready? Is it ready?" Pinkie Pie hopped in place, her flailing arms reminding Twilight of the needle on a particularly excitable seismometer.

One twist later, Twilight pocketed her screwdriver and held up the device. "It is now!"

"Great! Sooo..." Pinkie scratched her head. "What now?"

Twilight tapped the surface of the sensor's diminutive interface, causing it to light up. "Well... now it needs something to - oh!"

Rarity blinked. "What is it, darling?"

"It's picking something up! Something nearby, almost right behind me, like..." Twilight slowly turned around. "...the mirror portal. Duh."

"I have an idea." Sunset snapped her fingers. "Why don't we see how well it keeps track of our magic?"

Twilight fiddled with her glasses. "Oh, that would be great! We'll need a variety of tests to determine its precision, sensitivity, range, and - "

"I'll go first! Watch me!"

Without warning, Rainbow became a blur circling around the statue for a few seconds before taking off toward a nearby row of trees and disappearing. "Betcha can't tell where I'm hiding!"

Twilight stared at the sensor in her hands for a moment. "Second from the left," she declared.

Rainbow poked her head out from behind the leaves of the tree in question. "Hey, not bad."

On the base of the statue behind them, the mirror portal shimmered.

"Ooh, me next!" Pinkie dipped a hand into her poofy hair and rummaged around for a moment. Having located her target, she grinned as she produced a small container of confectionery sprinkles, from which she dispensed a handful into her open palm. With a flourish, she twirled in place and flung the now-glowing sprinkles into the air above, where they ignited and spat sparks of all colors every which way, looking like a miniature firework show.

"Very good, Pinkie!" Twilight fiddled with a pair of knobs on the side of the sensor. "I'm picking up both the flight arc and energy output."

The surface of the portal rippled like a calm lake disturbed by a stone.

"Uh." Applejack pointed her thumb at the portal. "Is it supposed to be doing that?"

Sunset's gaze followed along, causing her to scratch her head. "Doing what?"

Applejack glanced at the portal again, ready to point out what should have been obvious... only to find it looking the same as ever. "Oh. Uh... hmm." She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "Maybe I imagined it."

Sunset gave the mirror a suspicious stare for a few seconds before turning back toward Twilight, who was busily tracking a large levitating crystal courtesy of Rarity.

"...and by adjusting the frequency, I can even trace it to its point of origin. This is excellent!" Twilight grinned as she stared at the sensor's output screen. "Great work, girls!"

The sky above began to darken.

"Aw, we didn't do much..." Fluttershy twirled a bit of hair around her finger. "You're the one who built it, after all."

"Yeah, don't give away the credit." Sunset threw the gentlest of punches at Twilight's upper arm.

"I knew it! Quick, look!"

Applejack gripped her hat with one hand and pointed accusingly at the portal with the other, its surface swirling unnervingly in red and black.

Sunset gritted her teeth. "I'm... pretty sure that's not normal."

"I don't think that is either," Rainbow warned, pointing straight up.

The same pattern on the surface of the portal was also visible in the sky. Seven necks craned to watch the swirling void expanding above them as sky-colored fragments broke away from its edges and faded from sight as they fell.

Twilight trembled, clutching the magic sensor for dear life. "The... the sky is... cracking...?"

"Come on!" Sunset tore her eyes away from the bizarre sight and turned to her friends. "We can figure out what's going on once we're at a safe distance!"

"One minor problem with that plan, dear..." Rarity pointed worryingly at her feet, the ground sliding by beneath her as an unseen force seemed to draw them all toward the mirror portal.

"Rrrgh...!" Try as she might, the faster Rainbow ran against it, the stronger the portal's pull on her became. "It... feels like it's... pulling on the magic itself...!"

"Whoa, whoa, WAUGH!" Pinkie's arms were a flailing blur once again as she lost her balance and effectively fell sideways toward the portal... only to be stopped suddenly by a large hovering crystal.

"I've... got you... Pinkie..." Sweat dripped from Rarity's outstretched arms as she fought to maintain her hold on her crystalline projection, but it was more than she could bear for long; with a pair of terrified screams, the crystal dissolved and the two of them tumbled through the portal out of sight.

Fluttershy wrapped her arms around herself, gripping her sides as her eyes went wide with shock. "Pinkie! Rarity...! W-What do we do...?"

"Isn't it obvious? We go in after them!" Without any hint of a second thought, Rainbow spun on her heel and dashed for the portal, vanishing in an instant.

"Don't need to tell me twice! C'mon, everyone!" One hand still securing her hat, Applejack gestured for the others to follow and took her own mighty leap into the void.

"Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my - waaaaaah!" Fluttershy's scream seemed to echo as she finally lost her footing, reaching out to Sunset and Twilight in desperation as she too vanished from sight.

The two remaining girls stared into the portal as the void above continued its inexorable expansion.

Slowly, Sunset reached out and took Twilight's hand. Though their staring lasted only a moment longer, it felt like an eternity had passed before they turned toward one another.

"Whatever this is... we'll get through it together." Fear had long since drained the color from Sunset's face, but she gave Twilight the best reassuring smile she could manage all the same. "Like we always do."

Twilight took the deepest breath she had taken in a long time and nodded.

The two stepped forward together. As if on cue, the portal's pull strengthened, yanking the girls off their feet and drawing them into the void as the last of the world around them shattered away.

Though the emptiness around them pulsated with an eerie red glow, none of it seemed to reach Sunset or Twilight themselves, shrouded in darkness as they were. Their still-clasped hands were all the reassurance they got that anyone else was there - if their friends were anywhere nearby, they were indistinguishable from the void itself.

To Sunset's increasing horror, she soon felt another pull from the void suddenly wrench Twilight's hand from hers... and though she cried out in fear, no sound left her throat.

The swirling void seemed almost to be pressing against Sunset's mind as her senses began to dull. Direction and motion soon became meaningless; whether she was floating, falling, drifting, or something else entirely, she neither knew nor cared. It likely didn't make much of a difference anyway.

One final thought ran through her consciousness before it, too, seemed to fade into the darkness itself.

Please let them be okay...

Next Chapter

#mlp #mlpfim #my little pony friendship is magic #equestria girls #mlp fanfic #pony fanfic

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edoowinnie-stuff · 7 years

Text

Fight Songs - The Music of Team Fortress 2

Here’s something that kind of annoyed me this week. A week or so back, Valve released the collected soundtrack of TF2 in the form of a CD, Vinyl and through the usual digital distribution methods (e.g. Amazon, iTunes, Spotify, etc.) They would also go on to release the soundtrack as DLC for TF2 for a mere £9.99. ($12.99 US)

Now, before I get into this rant, I would like to start by saying that the soundtrack for this game is incredible. It’s some of my favourite music to come from a video game in recent memory. The style of music succinctly captures the era that the game exists within (a campy, 60s spytech era warzone) and follows nearly ten years worth of updates and storytelling that has gone on within that decade. Nearly every piece is uniquely interesting and fun to listen to. It was all composed by Mike Morasky and performed by Valve’s In-House Orchestra and every piece is incredibly enjoyable both within and out of context.

Now, with that out of the way, do I think you should buy the Vinyl/CD? Well, a lot of that depends. To my knowledge, there is incentive to buying the physical copy. For example, there is additional bonus content with both the CD and the Vinyl. Both the vinyl and CD come with a code to earn a special item in-game (An all-class hat that puts a record player on your head) and the vinyl comes with a special edition poster of your choice while the CD comes with a “6-panel Digipak and an 8-panel folder.” I don’t know what either of those are but, hey, at least it’s something. What I found particularly confusing, however, was the digital soundtrack’s bonus offerings. Specifically speaking, there are none.

Now, bear in mind, that the CD comes with whatever I said earlier (I’m still not sure what they are but they sound good. I think they might be art cards or something similar) and that goes for $15.99. Just $3 more than the DLC offering. (Not including shipping and handling, but I’ll get to that in a bit...) But all you get is the music and nothing more, which is pretty outrageous when you think about it. Either that or a spectacular bargain for the CD!

“Now, Eoin,” I hear you cry, “Have you seen the listing for the CD? There’s like 20-something tracks and, as you said, they’re all awesome!” You are quite right. These are excellent tracks and I would be happy to pay that much for the music alone. That would be the case, except not only have TF2 released all of these tracks prior to this soundtrack announcement, they can all be accessed within the game’s files on the PC fairly easily.

That’s the game’s audio directory, accessed through GCFScape. All the tracks are there, you can check for yourself. This is what really irks me about this soundtrack, there’s no real incentive to purchase it any other way and for Valve to have the nerve to sell it as add-on content, essentially selling you what you already own, is extraordinarily cheap of them.

Now, here are a few more points that are worth mentioning before I continue:

- The files in-game, found in the sound directory’s “ui” folder, are 128kbps MP3 and, from what I’ve heard, the soundtrack being sold is 320 kbps MP3 so it’s technically higher quality, albeit slightly. Carousel of Curses is the only file that’s actually a WAV file, and consequently is much larger, so you would need to buy the soundtrack to make it an MP3. (Or use iTunes, or something, I dunno...) - While the filenames are gamestartupx, all the metadata is filled in for each track so, playing on a phone or MP3 player, you probably won’t be able to notice the difference. - You’ll notice only 26 tracks here while the Soundtrack has 29 tracks. Never fear for the missing tracks can be found in other folders, Two of them are in the “holiday” folder next to the above tracks while the final track can be found in the “music” folder which you can see in the directory above.

Now, I understand that the soundtrack is a way to make some more money off of this game, and I respect that the physical copies of the CD are definitely cool enough to warrant a purchase. If you are able to, I would honestly say it’s worth it. (I even heard there are some secrets on the vinyl version too so it has its incentives also) but, and I’m sorry to say this, I don’t believe it’s worth paying £10 for something that I already have if that’s all you’re prepared to give me.

I would honestly love to purchase the CD/Vinyl but, infuriatingly, shipping it to me in the UK costs a goddamn fortune. I’m deadly serious about this, shipping from their location to mine costs $40, which is insane! I purchased an album from California to UK at Christmas time and it cost me $50 tops, including shipping Meanwhile, these guys in Michigan, who are obstensibly closer, need $80 for a Vinyl and a poster!? The shipping costs more than the bloody product!!

I’ll be honest, this rant about a soundtrack turned more into a rant about shipping and handling in the US to UK, which I could go on for hours about but I should focus on the soundtrack itself. (Incidentally, Valve’s own store’s shipping is also pretty extortionate for us Brits but, again, story for another time.)

The point is, you can’t expect us to put money down for something that we already have without any prospect of new or interesting content. When you released the Portal 2 soundtrack, there was incentive. I mean, for one thing, the soundtrack was a difficult thing to listen to correctly, what with its music altering itself as the game is played. That required some work and I was more than happy to pay to hear the soundtrack as it was intended to be heard. The TF2 soundtrack is great, I grant you, but there’s nothing new or interesting to really get into with this compilation. They could have included demos, concept music, maybe even some ideas that had to be scrapped if any existed. Instead they decided to play it safe and release more of the same. I’m disappointed that it didn’t deliver anything new, but I still love this game and its music. No amount of blatant shilling from Valve will ever change that.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #fight songs #rant #review #music #angry #frustrated #venting #personal #edoowinnie #eoin downie #valve #it's good to be back #now i just gotta do this more often #need to get angry more often

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typhonheroes · 8 years

Text

Wings

Apollo didn’t like bothering Jacqueline.

She was a nice girl, definitely the sweetest of the bunch, and she had a particular wit to her that made a conversation entertaining. For a twelve-year-old she definitely knew her stuff, and so it’s no wonder that she’d made it this far with the superhero crew.

Perhaps it was her prestige and intelligence that made Apollo consider her opinion of the highest value. That’s why he called her the morning after his “accident.”

He was still, admittedly, emotionally compromised. He had gotten very little sleep the night before and upon waking he found it difficult to move. So difficult in fact that he refrained from leaving bed altogether, and instead opted to have Jack run him his breakfast. He felt bad considering everyone in their house had their own problems, but his roommates seemed more than inclined to help. Noah was particularly irritated however, about Eli’s disappearance.

“When you need him most he leaves,” he had said under his breath.

But it was in this state that Apollo decided it would be best to figure out what to do with his one remaining wing. He had thought about it ever since he found out he would lose the other, and it was something that he simply couldn’t ignore anymore. As far as he could tell it would be nothing more than a nuisance from here on, something that would make everyday life all the harder. In Apollo’s mind he was more than willing to cut it off, and as a result he wanted to get rid of it now when he was still in the state to consider it an option.

But, again, Jacqueline’s opinion was heavily valued. If she said that it was a bad idea then it was a bad idea, and Apollo would refrain.

So he calls her up that morning -- his phone of the few things within reach. He decides against calling until nine because he figures that by then she would be up and about and open to conversation. Jacqueline answers after a couple of rings and the grogginess can be heard in her voice. Evidently, she got very little sleep too.

“Hello?”

“Jacqueline. It’s me, Apollo.”

“Oh, hey. What can I do for you?”

“I need your help with something.”

“With what?”

“Did you see the news yesterday?”

There’s a pause. Then she says. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I know, everyone is. But I’m not worried about pity right now I need to figure something out and I want your help.”

“What do you need exactly?”

“It... It would be better for you to see in person. Can you come over to my place sometime soon?”

“Sure. I can be over in about half an hour if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. I might not answer the door--” as if he could “--so if either of my roommates do just tell them that I asked you to come over.”

“Okay.”

Then the call ended and Apollo waited. Jacqueline arrived as predicted a little less than half an hour later. Noah let her in and pointed her in the right direction. She went up, her mind spiraling off in every other direction as she tried to determine what exactly had happened after that fight. She knew it couldn’t have been pretty -- the live recording was cut just before things got especially gory but viewers could see the electrocution and that would’ve been enough to scar anyone. So with that in mind, Jacqueline was ever unsure of what she might find.

What she found was not the best thing in the world, but not the worst either. Her worst-case-scenario had been finding Apollo brutally scarred from burns and cuts. Perhaps he would have been deformed beyond recognition, or perhaps he would be barely pulling through on life support, either way neither of those conditions were true and so her anxiety left in part.

But that didn’t change the fact that the matter was terrible. There Apollo was, sitting up in bed where every little movement caused discomfort that showed through his expression. One wing laid limply at his side, crooked in parts and missing feathers in others. The other wing was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“I’m sorry about what happened Apollo,” was the first thing Jacqueline said as she sat down at his bedside. “I wish we’d known what would happen, then maybe we could’ve changed it.”

“There’s no point lingering on the past,” Apollo assured. “But I have a question about the future.”

“Ask away, I will answer to the best of my abilities.”

Apollo nodded, and composed himself before he spoke. “I want to cut off my wing.”

“That’s not much of a question.”

“I want to know if it’s a good idea.”

“Well, tell me the good and the bad.”

“This wing is practically useless. My other wing won’t heal so... so I won’t be able to fly again. My balance is awful when I only have a wing, dare I say even worse than when I have none. Not to mention it’s awkward to look at -- it’s like I can’t decide what I want to be. I should either be a whole angel or a whole mortal, I can’t stay on the fence.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I just don’t want to. It’s time I make a choice and my choice is to walk among man. Always.”

Jacqueline stared at Apollo’s expression for a moment. There was a fire in his eyes, a passion that shrouded desperation and fear. He obviously wanted this to be done, and Jacqueline wondered if he would follow through even if she told him not to. Regardless he obviously craved a response, so Jacqueline decided to give him one.

“If it’s for the best then so be it, cut it off. I won’t stop you.”

“Will you help me?”

“I’m not much of a surgeon. I could always ask my brother to help but he’s not the biggest fan of blood. Regardless if you really want this done then I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Apollo wanted the deed done before nightfall and so he got his wish. Justin came over, and the two of them along with Apollo’s roommates made a little area in the bathroom where they could complete the procedure. There was little fear of blood loss but they still made a sterile place to work with.

As they were prepping Jacqueline kept Apollo busy with conversation.

“Do you know a man named Eli?” he asked as he slowly lowered himself onto the slab of metal currently accounting for a make-shift surgeon’s table.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was just wondering is all. Do not fret.”

“Is he important? You should tell me about him.”

“Well, I mean, I suppose he is a bit important. My roommates and I haven’t known him for very long though, so I can’t say what I’ll be able to tell you.”

“Tell me whatever you can think of. Personality, appearance, hobbies, whatever floats your boat.” Apollo was being secured down to the table whilst this conversation was happening.

“He’s possessed by a demon,” he began ever so bluntly. “A demon named Marshall. The demon’s a complete ass but Eli... Eli’s a lot more different. He seems so kind and caring and I can tell you that before whatever happened he was a good person. It’s really unfortunate to see where life has lead him, but the only problem that I have is that he’s just... hard to read. I never know what he’s thinking, and I’m always worried about his intentions. I blame the demon but even then I hardly know him and yet people have told me to fear him.”

Jacqueline had enough sense to know who these “people” were. She’d heard Marcus ranting about someone many weeks back, someone who seemed to cause a lot of trouble. That could easily be this Eli fellow, and if it was then suddenly a lot more things made sense.

“I can’t tell if he has a heart of gold covered in grime, or a tainted heart painted gold. His possession is definitely one of the more unique ones I’ve seen. The ones I’m used to demand exorcisms, and have victims who unwillingly agreed to the occasion and have lost all control of themselves. Eli’s not like that -- he seems to have some control over the demon, though how much I’m not entirely sure.”

“He seems like an interesting man.”

“He is.”

“Why don’t you tell me more? He’s starting to sound familiar,” she lied.

“Well, he’s from Boston. His accent is pretty obvious and honestly I don’t know enough about Massachusetts to figure out whether he’s faking it. And he has the oddest color of eyes I’ve ever seen, sometimes they’re so deeply mixed that they remind me of islands on the sea, and other times they’re so fiercely red that they... that they remind me he’s a demon.” Apollo paused now, a far off look on his face as his brow furrowed and he stared at the floor. Jacqueline gave him a quizzical look before prompting him to go on.

“Anything else you remember?” Apollo perked up.

“He’s a bit on the shorter side, I think I’m taller by a couple of inches. He also has this scar on his lips -- I think it was the first thing I noticed about him. Besides the accent, of course. I don’t know the story behind it but I wish I did. Then again, the whole ‘shrouded in mystery’ stuff seems to be his deal.” Who knows if Eli even intends to confuse Apollo as much as he does. “He has powers all stored away in that demon book of his, and I’ve only ever gotten to see him use it a couple of times but the few times I have I’ve seen his armor and let me just say that it’s absolutely stunning.”

“How so?”

“It’s just--elegant. Awfully elegant. It fits his form so perfectly even though medieval and Bostonian don’t exactly mix. Still, he finds a way to make it work. It’s all so incredible.”

“You seem really interested in him.”

“I can’t help but be. He’s the first person in a while who has piqued my interest so greatly, even if others seem to disapprove.” He could hardly be less subtle. “I think it’s just the want of knowledge that makes me this way. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”

“Everything?”

“Well, I suppose not everything. It’s just rare that I meet someone who has gone through what he’s gone through and continues to fight for what he has. It’s admirable, but I can’t understand it. Maybe that’s why I’m so interested.”

“You can’t understand it?”

“No. When my heart was broken twice over I was ready to give up. When Marcus died and Desmond left I was ready to give up. When my wing was torn from my back I was ready to give up. I cannot understand how someone could go through what he has gone through and not give up.”

“You’ve never given up either. You keep fighting even when things get hard.”

“Yes,” Apollo said as his eyes met Jacqueline’s. “But that’s only because I am a coward.”

#//jacqueline is def starting to notice apollo's feelings for eli even if apollo doesn't realize them #drabble;

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theeurekaproject · 5 years

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Conscientia

On the highest levels of Eleutheria, she could see the sky.

It wasn't the real sky, of course. The true, unaltered sky was a haze of gray fog and poisonous mist; if she breathed in the real sky, she'd probably screw up her cells so much she'd have cancer on top of her cancer. The truth was ugly and dangerous, so they'd covered it all with a strange mixture of forcefields and computer-generated images of blue split occasionally by fluffy white cumulus clouds from which rain never fell. Ordinarily, the smog and grime of the lower levels permeated the atmosphere so much that it was hard to even see through the thick, smoky air, but Alestra, of course, would have none of that for her precious lungs.

Carina sighed. She didn't know why she was so angry at Alestra; she'd never offended her personally. She was scary and intimidating and almost creepily beautiful, but that was true for all Imperatrices—supposedly. Of course, the latest coronation was the first exchange of power Carina had been alive to see; Imperatrix Harmonia Cassia died long before she was born.

Maybe she was just nervous. That was it—she was anxious and lashing out. She didn't hate Alestra. Who hated Alestra? Everyone loved her. They had to, or they'd wake up in a gulag somewhere on the other side of the world.

The hall where she was led was large and empty, all quartz and marble carved into intricate designs, entwined with precious gems and metals to create priceless artwork. At the very end was the coat of arms of house Cipher, a white shield with silver charges of plasmids and ancient, spiky trefoil runes. A silver chief topped the shield; Aleskynn said it stood for "domination of will," but Carina assumed she was just making things up. She did that a lot. The Imperial tiara that Acidalia had been crowned with stood atop the shield as a coronet, and the helmet from the uniform of a high-ranking TB-branch soldier made a helm. In a messy script, taken from the writings of Katherine herself, read "Igne natura renovatur integra," the motto of the royal house. Through fire, nature is reborn whole.

Carina's thoughts were abruptly pulled back to Alestra screaming that motto in her most recent propaganda series as she brandished an oddly elegant automatic weapon. She shoved the thought deep down back in her brain, where it belonged, and continued walking.

They turned a corner, and the Ministratoras stopped, their double helix insignias glimmering under the harsh white light. The corridor was entirely empty for a moment, then a small, pale figure bounded out of the shadows.

"Hey," Aleskynn said. "Wanna hang out?"

A burst of anger flashed through Carina's mind. "That's why I'm here? You just got bored?!"

Aleskynn blew a bubble of gum, then popped it. It stuck to her shiny pink lips. "Um, yeah?"

Carina sighed. "Leski, I have a job. I can't just randomly disappear, I won't get paid. And I kind of need that money. I have to pay rent."

"Rent on what?"

"My apartment," Carina said, knowing the concept of rent was as foreign to Aleskynn as aliens from outer space. She had probably heard vaguely of the idea, but she had no reason to dwell on it; that was everyone else's job. "And train tickets cost money, and so does food and clothing, and I have to bring my own PPE," Carina continued.

"Never mind, I'm sorry I asked. This conversation is boring me," Aleskynn snapped. She turned to the Ministratoras and dismissed them with an irritated "you can leave now."

Carina took a deep breath and resigned herself to a very long, wasted afternoon.

Aleskynn set off down the hallway, her clear plastic court shoes clacking loudly on the pristine marble floor. "Anyway, Velia, Hera, Amelyx, and Raveri are all busy, and all my other ladies in waiting are so boring. I mean, you aren't exactly exciting, either, but like, you don't have a clue about makeup or hair, clearly, and I am so sick of hearing about that."

"Thanks," Carina said, knowing Aleskynn wasn't listening well enough to pick up on the sarcasm.

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm about to literally lose my mind, like actually, because people just won't shut the hell up about my bastard sister, which is total bullshit because it's not even her throne, it's mine. I mean, I guess technically not… but that's a technicality, which basically means it's not even real. With every other monarchy in history, the oldest legitimate kid gets primogenitum, right?"

"I'm pretty sure most historical monarchies gave primogenitum to the eldest son," Carina said.

"Well, I don't have a brother," Aleskynn shrugged, "or at least, not a legitimate one. Besides, most historical monarchies only gave stuff to men 'cause they didn't have the military prowess we have. If the men are off ruling the country, how can they be fighting a war, right?"

"Right." Carina decided it was probably best not to mention that the people who led the country were generally the same people who led the military campaigns. Aleskynn had probably never even laid her precious gaze upon something as uncouth as a set of fatigues.

"My point is that all of this is totally unfair," Aleskynn whined, kicking at a flowerpot that held strange, bright, fluorescent roses. It cracked when it hit the ground, sending a spray of dirt and neon fluid into the air. "That throne should belong to me."

"What would you even do if you had the throne?" Carina asked. "A, you're not twenty yet, so you'd be led by your mother acting as regent anyway. And B, you hate responsibility. Why do you want it that badly?"

"For starters, my mom is co-empress anyway, that's how it works. Rule of two." She rolled her eyes like it should have been obvious. "A mix of new and old blood, the splitting of power, a backup for the empress—it's in the rule book. Who cares if she's acting regent or co-Imperatrix? It's pretty much the same, and she lets me do basically whatever anyway. As far as responsibility goes, isn't that what advisors and ladies in waiting are for?"

"Sure, but you'd still have to be a figurehead—"

"I can do that. I'm gorgeous." She batted her eyelashes, smiling. Her bright pink lip gloss glistened under the buzzing white lights.

"Yeah," Carina sighed. "You'd be good at that."

"Much better than Acidalia," Aleskynn added, rolling her eyes again. "I don't get what's so damn special about her. Whatever. When she dies I'll have her throne anyway, and then the working class can lick my boots and fawn over how 'relatable' and 'special' and 'interesting' and 'unique' I am, too. As if their opinion even matters."

"What, does the working class really like her or something? I'm sorry, I don't keep up very well with politics." Truth be told, it wasn't really that Carina didn't keep up with politics—it was more that Alestra's regime was notoriously difficult to get any information on, and most of the news reports were inferences pieced together by bored gossip columnists who cared more about whether Alestra was wearing silver or white gold than about her actual policies. If they did report on anything political, discerning what was true and what was a result of a biased agenda was tough, sometimes impossible. Alestra liked it that way, so nobody had ever bothered to tighten the restrictions on what could be considered 'news.'

"Yeah, all the Cantatores and Laborum just love her. It fits, I guess. She really is one of them." Aleskynn made a disgusted face. "Can you imagine? A half-bred bastard on the throne? I can't wait until someone assassinates her. Like, I'm legit counting down the minutes."

"Why, is something going to happen?" Alarms suddenly flashed through Carina's mind. She didn't know Acidalia very well, but if she was at all better than Alestra, Carina didn't particularly want her dead.

Aleskynn snorted. "Trust me. It's not a matter of if it'll happen, it's when. Everyone in the court thinks she's making a mockery out of house Cipher, which honestly, she is, and our mother hates her guts." Carina probably should have found it difficult to fathom hating one's own child, but if there was anyone who could say they wanted to murder their own daughter and be taken seriously, it was Alestra Cipher. She almost shuddered, picturing her icy blue eyes staring down the body of a long-range laser pistol, her white gown stained with blood like a demented Osiria rose. It was an image that was all too easy to envision—they'd put up similar pictures as propaganda more than once, whenever some new plot was uncovered or some politician said something stupid that offended the Cipher matriarch.

"I wish it'd just happen already," Aleskynn continued to whine, playing with a curl that had fallen out of her updo. "Everyone just keeps talking about it. And it's like, why the hell do you keep complaining about Acidalia? Can we just shoot her in the face and be done with this whole ridiculous thing? It's my first year as a teenager and it's like nobody even cares because stupid Acidalia is being crowned. You know what my mother said to me yesterday?"

"What?" Carina asked, not entirely wanting to know the answer.

"So I saw this girl on TV," Aleskynn began, "and she just had an amazing voice. Like, just amazing. She was so good. And everyone paid attention to her—what did they call her, an idol? So I decided, I want to be an idol."

"Like, an idol singer? But you don't sing."

"Exactly! So I told my mother to get me a singing career, since clearly I can't hold one on my own," Aleskynn said. "You know, she has so many friends who have ties to the music industry. They could make me a superstar literally overnight, and I would barely even need vocal cord surgery or voice-enhancing sound effects. Hell, I bet I wouldn't even have to sing. They'd just have someone do it for me. But you know what she said?"

"What'd she say?"

"'Not now, Leski.' That's what she said!" Aleskynn stomped her foot. "Isn't that such bullshit?!"

Carina thought momentarily, god, I wish I lived in your world. The idea that one could become a pop sensation in one day with zero talent just because their family knew someone was entrancing. This world of giant palaces and fifty-car garages and family trees stretching back to the early 2000s seemed as glamorous as life could get. Then she remembered that, according to Aleskynn, people were already conspiring to assassinate Acidalia because her mere existence annoyed them, and then being a middle-class astrophysicist didn't seem quite as bad.

"And this isn't even the first time," Aleskynn continued. "You know how many times someone's told me to 'wait' because they were busy preparing for Acidalia's coronation? Those preparations took months, and it was all for a ceremony that was over in one day, for a woman whose reign will be over in one week!"

"A week?" Carina asked.

Aleskynn scoffed. "If she's lucky." Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Listen, I'm not really supposed to tell you this, but house Generalis thinks she'll be dead two days from now. And Raveri's mom says if house Generalis doesn't do it, house Vulgaris will put a knife through her chest by the day after. When I say nobody likes her, I mean it."

Carina's mouth went dry. "What?"

"Shhh! You don't want her to hear. She could be around literally any corner!" Aleskynn pulled Carina away from the nearest doorway. "But yeah. Did you really think people would stand for this? They don't want some Martian-born whore wearing the crown. They'll just kill her and put the blame on someone else, just like they put the blame on that AX soldier."

"They can't just—"

"Oh, they absolutely can." Aleskynn smiled. "And wait until you see the celebration when it happens. You thought the coronation was big?"

"But… I don't understand." As much as Eleutherian nobility disliked Martians, especially half-Martians, and as reluctant as they were to break the precedent of war heroes' daughters inheriting the throne, she couldn't envision a world in which nearly everyone was willing to risk the empire's stability by assassinating the Imperatrix. Even if they didn't like or agree with her, there were ways to pull strings to get leaders to do what you wanted—there had to be.

Why would every noble house suddenly decide that Acidalia Cipher must die?

Carina racked her mind for reasons why people would hate Acidalia as much as they did. She was Martian, she was illegitimate, and she didn't get along with Alestra, which were all important factors. But were they important enough to warrant this type of response? The noble houses had never done anything so coordinated together. Under any normal circumstances, house Vulgaris would sell out house Generalis immediately so they could get brownie points from the Imperatrix. Never before had they worked as one like this.

But there was one reason Carina could think of, something more political than mere genetic differences and complicated mother-daughter relationships.

"Is Acidalia with the Nova?" she whispered, knowing full well that if she was overheard asking that question, she could be legally shot dead on the spot.

Aleskynn's eyes glowed blue, like she knew something she wasn't supposed to and was taking great pleasure in the fact that she was breaking the rules. "Wanna hear a secret?" Carina felt like screaming is this a game to you?!, but she already knew the answer was yes. Everything was a game to Aleskynn; she had the money, power, and popularity at court to get away with anything.

"Acidalia's not with the Nova," Aleskynn said slowly, like a movie character in a melodramatic film attempting to build anticipation. "And that's the problem."

"Wait." Something clicked in Carina's mind. "So everyone else—"

Aleskynn nodded. "Yeah. So of course they want her dead. Can you blame them?" She said it like she was talking about something stupid, something trivial, like a sports rivalry or a fandom war, not a political terrorist group infiltrating the top layers of the government and trying to kill the Imperatrix not because of her policies but because of her breeding.

Horrified, Carina flinched away. "That's…"

"Exciting, isn't it?" Aleskynn finished for her, like she was unable to see the situation from the perspective of anyone else. "Two days, and the throne will be mine in all but name. Seven years, and I'll have my own coronation. Won't it be awesome getting to tell people you're friends with the Imperatrix?" She took Carina's hand and pulled her over to a bridge, a pearlescent, ornate connection between two absolutely massive palace columns. Above them was the swirling, artificial nighttime sky, filled with nebulae and constellations that didn't really exist, like a careless child had dumped glitter on the starscape. "All this is gonna be mine," Aleskynn said, pointing up at it. "And Acidalia can rot in hell, for all I care."

"Should—should you be telling me this?" Carina asked, not knowing what to say, hoping Aleskynn couldn't feel how clammy her palms were.

She shrugged. "It's not like you have any other friends to tell it to. Besides, my mother would kill you if you let the cat out of the bag. And listen, I didn't initially want to ask you this because I'm a Cipher and you're caste Scientia and I don't want it to get weird, but—" She trailed off awkwardly, which wasn't a very Aleskynn thing to do. Carina wondered if she'd done it intentionally, to garner more attention, but she didn't seem like she was smart enough to be that manipulative.

Aleskynn swallowed. "You know, I don't know a whole lot about the Nova. But, uh… they don't like the lower castes very much. And it's not like they'd want to kill you or anything, but they'd make sure you and I could never, ever talk to each other again. But I kinda don't want that to happen, since you're the only person who actually listens to me when I complain instead of telling me to be less shallow or just shamelessly parroting whatever I say in the hopes of gaining favor with my mom."

Carina wished she could have said well, maybe you should be less shallow, but the compliment—or at least the admission of friendship—was weirdly nice, especially coming from Aleskynn Cipher, so she decided not to.

"So," Aleskynn continued, "I was maybe gonna… make you an advisor. Sorta. That wouldn't technically boost your caste, since you were born with it, but I was thinking we could maybe just not tell people?"

"You would lie about my heritage to protect me?" Carina asked. Even though it came with virtually no consequences whatsoever for Aleskynn herself, it didn't have any immediate monetary benefit, either, which was more than what could be said for most of her actions.

"Only because you're friends with me," Aleskynn added quickly, "and only cause I feel kinda bad for you." But the reasoning behind it didn't really matter, did it? Carina could be a royal advisor. She had absolutely no idea what that entailed, but according to Aleskynn's other friends, being a noblewoman wasn't a lot of responsibility; it seemed to mostly involve sitting around in between lessons on everything from psychology to ballet, accompanying the princess on fancy overseas trips, and attending the theatre and the cinema to watch elaborate productions of plays or premiere screenings of movies.

She could envision herself and Aleskynn, sitting together in the best seats in the house, watching the world's best actors and singers preform some classical show like Oedipus Rex or Macbeth or Hamilton. She could see herself amongst throngs of women in white and gold, surrounded by waiters in tuxedos who would bring them anything if they only asked, and this time she wouldn't be an unwelcome intrusion in the world of the rich and famous, but a personal friend of the Imperatrix Ceasarina. She could be paid in millions or billions of credits; it would barely put a dent in the Ciphers' quadrillion-credit fortune. Aleskynn could make or break her entire future if she so desired—and right now she was offering to make it.

But if Carina was to be a noblewoman, she had to keep a secret. And if she didn't tell anyone that Acidalia was about to be assassinated—no, murdered, she was about to be murdered, assassination wasn't emotional enough a word—then an innocent woman would die. What would be the consequences of the only non-Novagenetica member of the court getting killed before her time?

Alestra would be on the throne for the next seven years, not as co-empress with anyone, but exclusively the Imperatrix. There were no checks and balances, no rule of two, under that system. And as nice as Aleskynn's offer was, Carina knew that there was no way the young princess could ever be half the politician her mother and her sister were without a lot of growing up. Eleutheria would be lead by a dictator and an incompetent teenager, and if that weren't bad enough on its own, Alestra was part of a group of genocidal maniacs who wanted half the planet dead or more subjugated than they already were.

"You look nervous," Aleskynn said, knitting her eyebrows.

"No, no!" Carina actually laughed, praying that Aleskynn couldn't tell it was borne not from excitement but from hysteria. "No, I just… wow. Wow, that's a lot to, um—" "I know." She grinned smugly, relishing the power she had.

Carina knew there was no way she could keep this secret to herself—not in good conscience, at least. But who would she tell? It wasn't like she could just march up to the Magistratum and report a homicide threat when the perpetrator was the leader of their entire civilization. And anyone she told would be incriminated, too—even knowing certain information was enough to get somebody killed, or worse, erased from existence entirely.

Aleskynn had no idea what she'd just unleashed by telling this to Carina—not the internal battle that was raging in her mind, nor the consequences that would happen when she inevitably let it slip, because intentionally or not, someone would find out. And when that happened…

Carina gripped the railing of the bridge tightly to steady herself. She could just yes Aleskynn to death and accept the fact that there was nothing she could do; then she'd be a noblewoman, a royal advisor, more or less welcome in the court of a slightly more familiar Imperatrix. But that would mean a lifetime of regret and an ever-present fear of Alestra. The promise of luxury came with a steep, steep price. And even if everything went to plan, if Alestra turned out to be not that bad—which was doubtful—and Aleskynn became semi-competent, Carina would still have to abandon her lab, her work, her colleagues, Athena.

Oh stars almighty, Athena. She had the sudden realization that Athena wouldn't last five minutes under a stricter, tighter, uncontrolled regime with Alestra at the helm. Modern Eleutheria was bad enough, but there was no way to keep tabs on all fifteen billion citizens, so a lot of what she did could fly under the radar. But if Alestra was willing to murder her own daughter in cold blood and join a terrorist group that wanted the lower castes dead, she'd also be willing to kill any opposition. And Athena would oppose her until the day one of them died, not because she had any real reason to, but just because Athena was just like that.

Either Carina could be a terrified royal advisor permanently stuck under Alestra's watchful eye, or she could tell somebody and pray for the best. Neither option was desirable, but one was slightly less awful than the other.

Carina took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do.

#eurekaproject #on the edge of eureka #POV Carina #Aleskynn

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chancedalton818-blog · 7 years

Text

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