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abigail-pent · 3 years

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TLT Theory Redux: Secret Doors and Heists

gather round the fire, children, for I have finished my third reread and I have theories to spin. they are interconnected. they will also take the form of "a listicle, kind of". This is not as tightly written/cited as I hoped it would be, many thanks to tumblr for eating the first version of this post.

THEORY #1: HARROW WAS RIGHT

About what? Probably lots of things, but specifically about the secret door. You remember Harrow's "secret door theory," right? On GTN p. 303, Harrow and Palamedes are having an argument about what is going on in Canaan House. Harrow makes fun of Palamedes' idea that there is such a thing as a Lyctoral megatheorem. Pal lightly mocks Harrow's "secret door" theory, about which she says:

"But all this is more than unsustainable, Sextus. The things they've shown us would be powerful -- would bespeak impossible depth of necromantic ability -- if they were replicable. These experiments all demand a continuous flow of thanergy. They've hidden that source somewhere in the facility, and that's the true prize."

The action picks up pretty quickly after this, and you just sort of forget about Harrow's theory since Pal's theory is so quickly proven correct. It's set up to make you think these theories are competing, but they're not. Harrow and Pal are both right.

Proposition 1: An entrance to the River -- or perhaps the part of the River on the other side of the stoma -- is hidden under Canaan House.

Evidence for Proposition 1:

1A) On GTN p. 191, Teacher says, about Silas siphoning Colum in the facility: "He cannot empty anybody here, lest they become a nest for something else!" This is highly reminiscent of HTN p. 98, when Mercy says: " A Lyctor's body, empty, with its battery intact but nobody in the driver's seat? Do you know what could take up residence? Anything could get inside you -- any horrible or evil or lonely thing, any miserable revenant, or worse." These two places are described very similarly; they may well be the same.

1B) I'm missing the citation, exactly, but I'm pretty sure it's textual that the first time the Lyctors + John ran from RBs, they ran by dropping into the River. Quite possibly from Canaan House itself.

1C) Teacher. We know he hates the water (GTN p. 325), we know he was created for the "sole purpose of safeguarding the place" (GTN p. 373). Of course, the whole place is surrounded by saltwater.

1D) When Ianthe and Cytherea are fighting and Canaan House is disintegrating, "brackish water from the fountain spattered across the floor and trickled into the cracks" (GTN p. 418). It's been well established already that 'brackish' is the word used to refer to River water. It's also the word used to describe the water that emits from Colum's mini stomae when he dies (GTN p. 393). Why is the fountain water brackish when other water in Canaan House -- for example, the pool -- is saltwater? Seems like a clue!

Proposition 2: Whatever is behind the secret door is the source of John's power.

Evidence for Proposition 2:

2A) During the big confrontation with John in HTN (p. 478-479), Augustine's suspicions echo Harrow's from GTN p. 303, when she's describing the secret door theory. He says:

"You've offered us explanations for everything over the years. But -- some of them didn't hold up on examination . . . It was the power I could never get my head around, you know? I follow power back to its source, John. It's the skill you asked me to perfect. And the longer I looked at yours, the less things added up."

Leaving aside for now the fascinating question of why John would ask Augustine to cultivate this skill, he goes on to ask:

"You're God, John. But -- as the Edenites are fond of pointing out -- you were once a man. So whither that transition? Where does your power come from? Even if the Resurrection had been the greatest thanergy bloom ever triggered, it would drain away over time. And then Mercy said to me -- in a moment of true Mercy vileness -- she said, What is God afraid of?"

Proposition 2.1: The source of John's power is not exactly Alecto, but is Alecto-adjacent. Alecto is from the space behind the secret door.

2.1A) Alecto is called a saltwater creature (HTN p. 328).

2.1B) The oldest parts of Canaan House are where the power emanates from (citation needed, but I’m sure it’s there). They are also the parts closest to the sea. As Teacher says (HTN p. 110): "The base of Canaan House dates back to before the Resurrection. We first built upward, to get away from the sea; then we built outward, to strive toward beauty."

2.1C) The Sleeper is identified with Alecto. Like Alecto, she carries a weapon, she sleeps in a coffin, she can’t be killed, and the River bubble crew is warned that the worst and most cataclysmic thing in the world would occur if she were ever to wake up (HTN p. 112, 185). Since the Sleeper is so clearly identified with Alecto, and is also identified as the presence that’s haunting the River bubble version of Canaan House, it suggests the connection between Alecto herself and the physical version of Canaan House.

Proposition 3: John has dammed the River underneath Canaan House by trapping the Earth Resurrection Beast there.

3A) Per HTN p. 43, we know there's one missing RB, since 9-5=4>3.

3B) Abigail thinks something is messed up in the River and it's dammed, and spirits cannot get across. On HTN p. 396-397, she says:

“A spirit can be trapped, trapped as every spirit in the River is trapped . . . I think there is a whole school of necromancy we cannot begin to touch until we acknowledge its existence – I think these centuries of pooh-poohing the idea that there is space beyond the River has stifled entire avenues of spirit magic, and I believe the Fifth House is waning entirely due to us reaching a stultified, complacent stage in our approach . . . Something has gone terribly wrong in the River, Harrow, and I wish you’d find out what.”

She’s describing a dam in the River that traps ghosts there. This is extremely consistent with what Teacher tells Harrow about what’s down in the facility (see 3E).

3C) On GTN p. 213, Cytherea suggests that "something has been lurking [in the Canaan House facility] forever", and when Harrow insists that "[A spirit] cannot sustain itself", Cytherea replies: "But what if one could?" We know that Resurrection Beasts are revenants, and a revenant is a type of spirit; and if any spirit was going to be self-sustaining, it would be an RB.

3D) HTN p. 172: "The card up the sleeve of the revenant, and the Resurrection Beast, is that it can inhabit anything it's got a connection to. Anything thanergetically connected with their death." So what killed Earth? Climate change, plus a massive nuclear fission chain reaction. Historically, early nuclear fission chain reaction tests took place underneath the ground (see, for example, the facility at the University of Chicago). So an underground or underwater facility could very well be thanergetically connected to the death of Earth.

An RB may very well be a continuous source of thanergy; and if this is the case, John may want to kill or neutralize the other RBs to keep other people from rivaling his power. Or better yet: harness the other RBs the same way Earth's RB was harnessed.

3E) On GTN p. 152, Teacher literally tells Harrow that the ten billion are haunting the facility. Harrow says she is “repeating exactly – to the word—what Teacher said to [her]”:

“Down there resides the sum of all necromantic transgression. The unperceivable howl of ten thousand million unfed ghosts who will hear each echoed footstep as defilement. They would not even be satisfied if they tore you apart. The space beyond that door is profoundly haunted in ways I cannot say, and by means you won’t understand; and you may die by violence, or you may simply lose your soul.”

For those of you following along at home: ten thousand million = 10,000 x 1,000,000 = 10,000,000,000 = 10 billion, or the exact number of people who died in the Resurrection. This is of course completely consistent with the Earth RB being down there, somewhere in or under the facility, because the revenant of a planet includes the spirits of every living thing on it when it was murdered.

Proposition 3.1: Alecto is one of the physical anchors for the Earth RB.

3.1A) HTN p. 454: “The only sure way to banish a revenant is to destroy the physical anchor it inhabits before it can escape the shell.” If John’s cavalier is the physical anchor for the Earth Resurrection Beast, which is the source of his power, then this would justify the characterization of Alecto as the “death of the Lord”: if she’s a physical anchor and she is destroyed, then so is the source of John’s power.

3.1B) She was the first Resurrection, and it’s plausible that she would be thanergetically connected to the death of Earth.

3.1C) HTN p. 495: Pyrrha notes that the stoma “must think [John] is a Resurrection Beast.” Which is a super interesting mistake for the stoma to make! But if John’s cavalier is a physical anchor for a RB, this mistake becomes more understandable.

Proposition 4: The other side of the stoma is not a trash space, and John actually can access it. He uses it as a battery for his necromancy. It’s a storage space for RBs, and now I guess for Lyctors too. (this is the most galaxy brain proposition, and evidence is slim)

4A) On HTN p. 340, John says: “It is a portal to the place I cannot touch -- somewhere I don't fully comprehend, where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless.” But this is the kind of shit John lies about on the reg, so take what he says and apply opposite day rules.

4B) if the other side of the stoma is related to the River Beyond, it would be to John’s advantage to keep the Fifth House scholarship from treating the River Beyond seriously (see 3B). If they don’t take it seriously as a branch of scholarship, they can’t learn anything about it, and they can’t let the RBs out from where John is keeping them.

4C) this could be why John condemns soul siphoning (GTN p. 340). If soul siphoning sends the cavalier’s soul to the other side of the stoma, and the power that floods into the empty body is from the other side of the stoma, then soul siphoning threatens John’s monopoly on use of power.

This brings me to Theory #2, born out of a delightful discussion with @mayasaura: the heist in ATN is not going to open the Tomb at all. Instead, it’s going to open the part of the River underneath Canaan House, and the goal is to free the Earth RB. After all, the Tomb has been open for seven years already.

Extant questions:

1) Mercy seemed so sure that the RBs were coming back and targeting Alecto in particular. But Alecto stayed in the Nine Houses, and didn’t get eaten by any RBs, and the Ninth House is still there. So why does Mercy think Alecto is a target, or makes the rest of them into targets? If she was lied to, what is the purpose of this lie?

2) Why does John want Augustine to hone the skill of following power back to its source?

3) If RBs eat Lyctors and both RBs and Lyctors are in the hammer space on the other side of the stoma, then, like… hey Augustine and Ulysses… are you guys ok??

#tlt meta #tlt spoilers #locked tomb spoilers #locked tomb meta #gideon the ninth #gideon the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers

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fear-before-valor · 3 years

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AU Ficlet: Jim, who was raised by the Order from the age of five, attends Arcadia Oaks High, for his first day of human high school. Weird things happen in Arcadia, though, and his appearance seems to be one such weird thing to the residents in this small, strange town...

Aka: How an Order-raised Jim met Toby and Claire

Words: 2939 II Warnings: none II ok to rb --

Jim dropped his backpack at the empty desk next to one Tobias Domzalski’s, one of the only people at school who’d been properly friendly to him so far. It was Jim’s first day of mortal high school, and he’d been vetted mercilessly by every student group but Tobias’s, though he was beginning to suspect that said group consisted of only Tobias.

Of course, Jim had been screening his peers right back, but it was still exhausting. He thought he’d been ready after the Order’s… extensive lessons on humanity, and how to fit in with the mortals like himself, but already, everything he’d done felt like it must have been a social faux pas of some kind.

Act quiet around the quiet kids? Then no one speaks, until the silence grows so long that it’s awkward, and starting up a conversation makes it feel painfully forced. So, okay, maybe find some louder kids and try to blend in with them. Except, they start to grow obnoxious, and at some point, the headache simply stops being worth it.

Jim wasn’t even going to dare try and bond with the overly studious; he wasn’t here to vie for valedictorian, nor was he all that interested in making grades that separated him from the pack. Not to mention, he much preferred whatever lessons the Order could teach him anyway. They were very practical things, going over philosophy, strategy, combat, computations. He was already conversational in Bellroc and Skrael’s original languages, and though he knew Spanish would be equally valuable, the Spanish teacher seemed… intense, in a way that Bellroc and Skrael, who could likewise be rigorous sometimes, were not.

In fact, the only class he was indeed eager to take was history—and, okay, perhaps physical education didn’t sound horrendous, so long as he was careful about holding back in certain areas—because while he could learn plenty of history from his very ancient guardians, to hear of human history from the mouths of humans, like himself… it sounded unique, in a way that he hoped was amenable, at the very least, if not genuinely interesting or entertaining.

As he sat down in the chair beside Tobias, the boy seemed to light up, beaming over at Jim, a reaction that he hadn’t expected from his peer. He’d thought he’d rather botched his first conversation with Tobias in homeroom that morning, as he hadn’t known anything about anything that Tobias had referenced (what on earth was Gun Robot?). But, evidently, he must have done something well—or at least, acceptably— because Tobias was leaning over and excitedly holding out his hand to show Jim something which clattered in his palm as he moved. Politely, Jim glanced over to see what it was, and—oh.

Oh no.

That was definitely the remains of a troll.

Tobias was holding out small, grey pebbles for him to see, on which Jim could just make out hints of tattoos that had been etched into the troll while they were alive.

Holding back his mild panic, he gave a tight smile and a nod, as his classmate diagnosed them incorrectly as gneiss—which, admittedly, Jim thought wasn’t a bad guess, really. It’s not like the other boy had any reason to think that the rocks he was holding were anything but an average metamorphic stone.

Tobias was looking to Jim for a response, though, so he opened his mouth to speak, breathing in—

—magic.

Jim froze once more. The distinct tingle of magic had just washed over his senses, keen and undeniable, unlike anything else he’d felt that day.

It was raw, underdeveloped, not yet bolstered by the right teacher, but it was there, and it spoke in tones of purple, pulsing with potential.

Jim was no wizard himself, much preferring combat to the arcane arts, having not a strong penchant for it or its intricacies and delicate, temperamental nature, but even still, he’d been raised with the three most powerful magic-users in the known world. They’d taught him from youth how to recognize when magic was present, how to glean as many clues as he possibly could about it, or who might have cast it, might be walking in it, based on its style and scent, its intensity, or its intentionality. He wasn’t quite the best at sensing the finer details, nor could he find it when it was masked, but when it was open, unhidden, he could feel it like a mild electric shock that one might get when touching a door handle in dry weather; he could sense it like the faint scent of ozone during a storm, or like a prickle on the hairs on the back of his neck, when lightning was about to strike.

What’s going on? He thought, as he turned his head in the direction of the epicenter of the magic. First, there’s troll remains in the hands of a classmate with the same schedule as him, and then there’s—the girl, there. The girl with the blue streak in her hair.

The witch.

She’d caught him staring, as she set her books down on a desk in the front row, a couple columns over from his. Beside her plopped down two more girls—her friends, Jim noted, as they chattered familiarly, cheerfully.

The girl gave him an awkward smile, then, and Jim realized that he must have been staring for a few moments too long, so he rapidly flicked his eyes back to the surface of his own desk, trying not to think about the flush he could feel splash across the back of his neck, or the tips of his ears.

Tobias did not grant him such grace.

“Ooh,” he grinned, smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “That’s Claire Nuñez. President of the drama club, valedictorian candidate, great actress. She’s tied with Seamus Johnson and Shannon Longhannon for top of the class right now, I heard. She’s wicked smart, and—Jim?” Tobias huffed, “Are you paying attention to me?”

Jim’s eyes darted back to his new friend, from where they’d been briefly studying Claire Nuñez’s back, trying to get a more in-depth read on her arcana. He nodded distractedly. “Yeah, yeah, smart, a president; I heard you.”

Tobias sighed, shaking his head. “Jim.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was listening.

“She’s out of your league.” He deadpanned. “She’s super popular, and you’re, no offense, definitely not.”

Jim shot Tobias a confused look, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

The boy stared openly at Jim. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? Do you really not— Oh my god.”

Jim blinked. “What?”

Tobias shook his head. “Jim, you’ve kinda… scared a lot of the people in our class today. They don’t know what to think about you. You’re like a giant question mark! No one even knows where you came from—”

“Ohio.” Jim recited his cover story, which Skrael had helped him pick the night previous. They’d chosen a city that started with a c… right. “Columbus, Ohio.”

Tobias shot him a deadpan look. “Okay, fine, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio. Why’d you suddenly move to Arcadia, then? Why not L.A.? Why not Burbank?”

Jim frowned. “Do you interrogate every newcomer like this? My parents got a good job opportunity here.” He held up one hand, “And before you ask—real estate.”

“Oh yeah? How come I haven’t seen them put up ads, then?” Tobias crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, dude; I think you’re cool, but you freak a lot of people out with that brooding, silent thing you do.”

Jim snorted. “I do what?”

“Y’know—”

“No, I don’t know—”

“You act, like, all silent and mysterious when people try to talk to you.” Tobias shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but some people don’t seem as ready to brush it off as me. I’m only telling you so that you can make more friends here.”

“Well, I have you, don’t I?” Jim’s head canted.

Tobias blinked, floundering at that. “Well—y…yeah, I guess so, but—”

“I mean, we are friends, aren’t we?”

It was Tobias’s turn to go a bit pink, shaking his head in bewilderment. “If you want, yeah, but—”

“Then there we go. I have a friend.” Jim smiled.

Tobias tried to protest, “But—” only to find himself cut off as Mr. Strickler strode into the classroom at that moment, placing a leather briefcase on his desk with a decisive thump. Cacophonous voices incrementally petered out, as attentive heads turned to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Strickler had pulled out a stack of syllabi, handing them to the student nearest the door, with the instructions to “take one and pass them,” spoken precisely to the class.

Tobias looked like he wanted to say something when Strickler turned his back to write his name on the chalkboard, but Jim shushed him from the corner of his mouth, opening a fresh, blank notebook as he did so. This was the only class he’d bothered to buy a separate notebook for, and, to be frank, was the only class he’d even intended to take notes in at all.

Tobias looked chagrined, but not angry, as he rolled his eyes and went to fetch a pencil from his own bag. Might as well have something to do with his idle hands for the next hour.

—

As his first day was winding to close, Jim had to admit, having a friend at school did end up making it a little easier.

The rest of his time there had passed largely unremarkably, since a rather thrilling start to the history curriculum. Jim’s hand had shot up just as much as the apparent reigning top of the sophomore class, one Miss Claire Nuñez’s, had— a fact which had, according to Tobias, already begun to percolate across campus.

The lesson had only briefly covered the basics of ancient Rome, going over a bit of easy, more widely known trivia, to see what the class already knew about their oncoming first unit, but, nonetheless, Jim had been eager to jump in, to talk almost directly to Mr. Strickler, going back and forth in the form of a discussion. He’d spoken quietly, quickly, and he’d felt the eyes of his peers glued to his desk, but had ignored the sensation altogether, in favor of listening to what his teacher had to say about aqueducts, instead.

When the hour had finally come to an end, in fact, he’d packed up slowly, most of his classmates abandoning the room as quickly as they could—the lunch period was about to begin—though Tobias was kind enough to wait for him. As such, Tobias was the only other person present to hear Mr. Strickler stop Jim after class, paying a brief compliment to his performance that day, and accompanying his words with a poster for the history club. Jim didn’t think his furtive smile had gone entirely missed by the teacher, but as they’d exited into the now mostly empty hallway, he forgot to worry about it further, as Tobias wasted no time in asking him how the heck his new friend knew so much about history already?

Jim had shrugged it off, saying that it was his favorite subject; and besides, didn’t Tobias— “Seriously, dude, it’s Toby, by the way”— know more about geology than anyone else in their class? The compliment had made Tobias—Toby— preen, and he’d promptly dropped the topic, instead launching into an enthusiastic lecture meant to coach Jim through the cafeteria process. Jim, who had tried to jump in to say that he’d heard this at orientation the week prior, but Toby had shot him an appalled look at that, swiftly informing him that orientation did nothing to help the social side of things. Sure, he knew the motions, but did he know how to do them without standing out in the crowd? Absolutely not—in fact, the thought was almost laughable, according to Toby.

So, Jim had grinned, followed Toby’s lead, and had just barely survived the ever-important lunch line waltz.

The rest of the day had passed mostly the same way, in the end. Toby, having warmed up to Jim, took him through the whole rest of the day, guiding him through the intricacies of Arcadia Oaks High, and by the time the final bell was ringing, Jim almost felt like a normal student. Some of his peers had even started waving to him in the hallways; he’d broken the ice, after all.

Well. He’d thought so, until Toby had said goodbye, peddling away on his bike toward home, leaving Jim alone in the courtyard by the bustling lockers, surrounded by students eager to either go home, as Toby had, or to dive into after-school clubs and sports.

Jim opted to take his time, though, to enjoy the Southern California sun, as he strolled casually across the campus, toward the front of the school grounds.

As he rounded the corner, though, intending to head toward the Arcadia Oaks sign, where he’d stop and shoot off a text to the Order that his first day had gone well, and that he’d be home soon, he felt a tap on his shoulder, instead, and heard a throat being cleared behind him.

He knew who it was before he even turned to face her; her magic had given her away as soon as she’d reached a hand for him.

Despite this, Jim whirled as if she’d caught him by surprise, schooling his features into something startled but friendly, relaxing his shoulders as a polite smile crossed his face, upon seeing her. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—” he rethought his words, shaking his head. “Never mind. …It’s, ‘Claire,’ right?”

She nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah! And you’re ‘Jim Lake’, hm?”

Something about the way she asked that question sent up a warning bell in the back of Jim’s mind, but he tried not to look unsettled; it was probably just nerves.

“Yup; just Jim is fine, though.” He added with a casual laugh.

Claire tilted her head, continuing. “So, you’re quite the history buff, huh?”

Jim’s hands dropped to his pockets, as he glanced at his shoes, then back up to her. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess?” She teased. “You were on fire in class today.” She lifted her chin, to look at him head on. “Do I need to worry about you unseating me, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio?”

Jim snorted, shaking his head. “No, no; it’s not like that. History’s just a hobby.”

“Pretty intense hobby, if you know half as much as you seem like you do.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim grinned. “Intense? Like being the president of drama club, the vice president of debate, and the supposed shoe-in for the lead in the play this fall?” he recited, much to Claire’s surprise, who shot him an impressed look.

“Huh. You sure do pay attention, don’t you?”

He glanced around, making it a leisurely movement, concealing the way he was searching for anyone who could overhear, before his eyes met hers again, as he said, “Only to certain people.”

Claire blinked, cheeks reddening, mistaking his meaning. “Oh, yeah? What kinds of people?”

Jim rolled the dice. “Well, people who seem nice, or kind, who I could make friends with. People who do things I wanna do, too, so I can have an ‘in’. Like clubs, and things.” he clarified.

“And, uh…” his voice grew hushed, “Magic-users in the human world.”

Claire’s face fell. “What was that last one?” Her nose scrunched with the skeptical look that overtook her features.

Jim’s eyes darted to look for an exit, realizing coldly—fearfully— that he had grossly miscalculated.

“Uh…” Stupid. He chided himself. Think of a lie before you go backing yourself into a corner. Skrael would be disappointed in him if he were here.

“Did you just say ‘the human world’ like you… aren’t human?” She stared at him suspiciously.

Jim blinked. “What? No. I’m human. Of course I’m human.” He gave a strained laugh. “What else would I be?”

“…Someone who thinks they aren’t?” Claire’s brow furrowed.

“It was a rhetor- well. I mean, I guess that’s true. But I’m not!” He smiled weakly, and then froze for a split-second, rapidly adding, “Someone who thinks they aren’t human! I know I’m human!”

Claire’s eyes shot to the street, where, to her poorly hidden relief, her dad had just pulled up to the curb, there to pick her up. “…Right. Well, Jim Lake from Cleveland, Ohio, my dad’s here, so I need to go, but this has been… interesting.”

Jim nodded rapidly, shooting her one more smile— a sheepish, apologetic one— as he gave her a shy wave. “…Yeah.”

Claire hoisted her backpack onto one shoulder, giving him a half-hearted wave back. “…Bye, Jim.”

“Bye, Claire.”

As she turned to leave, Jim frowned to himself. He wasn’t sure why, but something felt wrong. He supposed it could have been the awkward manner in which he’d acted, but in a flash, he decided that wanted to see her again, just in case that wasn’t it. He couldn’t be too careful.

So, before he missed his chance, he called after her retreating back, “See you around?”

Claire stopped, hand poised on the handle of the passenger side door, freezing there for a heart-pounding pause.

Then, she shot him a look over her shoulder, one of interest, meeting his eyes deliberately. Jim got the sense that he should heed it carefully.

“Yeah. See you around, Jim.”

#(why yes I did mean to have claire say 'cleveland' the second time)#hopefully the next fic in this is how jim becomes the trollhunter but!! for now I hope y'all like this piece!#i may make an au introduction post as well but brain tired from editing so that'll come soon!#trollhunters au #trollhunters fic #trollhunters fanfic #jim lake jr #the arcane order #toa #toa fic #toa au #ok to rb

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baebeyza · 3 years

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Ideas/concept in each Transformers series that you liked that are either written terribly, wasted potential and needed to be written in depth?

Okay, say GO! note: I love most of these shows and most of what I nitpick here isn't to say that I hate what we got + doesnt include RB and RBA

G1: I love Galvatron's and Cyclonus' dynamic and loved how the show was self-aware about the fact that Galvatron was crazy, and I would love to see this written with more depth and getting further into Cyclonus' motivation for staying at Galvs' side Headmasters: It's always about Sixshot- I love him so much but always gotta say that his development only really started in the last four episodes - would have loved it if we had gotten some inclination about his more gentle character before that!

Super-God Masterforce: I am of the opinion that Masterforce is a great show with great writing and great characters and don't have much to talk about here. Anyway, I absolutely adored Godbomber and the entire concept behind him - he's a drone who gets controlled through Ginrai's chokon-power (human energy) and acts whatever Ginrai wants him to do. What I found so nice about him is that he emotes! :D And he does react to other people, even if his reactions are all based on Ginrai's will. He doesn't have a voice, so he has to get his point across in other ways and seeing him do that is a delight ~ It made him feel like a character instead of just a drone with no personality and it would have been so awesome if more detail was put into that. Minerva treated Godbomber like a person and I'd have loved to see more of that!

Victory: There is a lot I loved about this show that just didn't really come into fruition - this post should explain it! Beast Wars: I fucking love Megatron cloning his ex Dinobot to get himself a new henchman, anddüde - wouldn't it have been nice to see it be acknowledged how creepy that is? Maybe get more into the reason why he has this need to clone Dinobot? Megatron obviously wanting his ex back, but his ex wont come back, so he creats a version of his ex that is just what he wants to him to be...weird housewife creepy romance novel style??? Beast Wars 2: Hm, tbh the stuff I liked about this show was well done! Can't think of anything here

Beast Wars Neo: Same as BWII, I just cant think of anything here that I loved that was done badly. The shows are simple! One thing I would have loved to see more of is Big Convoy's past as a lone wolf. We got bits and pieces but a little bit more couldn't hurt!

Beast Machines: I loved almost every idea in this show and somehow none if it was done in a way I truly enjoyed x'D 1. The premise nature vs techno 2. Blackarachnia trying to save Silverbolt 3. The whole concept of using existing sparks for new bodies, creating new people 4. Megatron splitting himself in half 5. Plantformers Apart from the Plantformers, all these were great ideas but the way the show executed them was depressing and weird.

RiD01: You know me people, I fucking love Ultra Magnus and Optimus being brothers in this and I would have given everything for more depth between them! Just a flashback to how they were before Ultra Magnus went JerkMode would have been gold QuQ

Armada: I loved the conclusions at the end, absolutely hated everything before the conclusion tho Energon: Love Shockfleet/Mirage being in fucking love with Galvatron, wish Galvatron had acknowledged it once qvq

Cybertron: Almost the same as Energon - I loved Chromia/Thunderblast having a crush on Megatron and wished they had done something with it. They could have gone full Decepticon Queen with her with evil romance, but Megatron has the same amount of communication and social skill as a brickwall.

TFA: I loved the 2 minutes of Cyclonus and hated that he never showed up again-

Cyber Mission: So, there is this episode in which Bee and Ironhide are sparring and Ironhide saves a flower from being squished under them and is like "we must protect life". Bee says that the flower aint sentient tho, but Ironhide says "this one is."

WHAT THE FUCK DO MEAN A SENTIENT FLOWER EXISTS ON EARTH??? Why to they drop this thing and then never do anything with the concept-!

TFP: I feel like Ultra Magnus is kinda missed potential and wished they'd have done more with him, he could have had great dynamics with the rest, but was just used for Wheeljack angst.

GO!: Man they got this Predaking character (I love Predaking) and he's just so generic...and they didn't even make him bishie and pretty like the original characters for this show qnq

RiD15: I loved Steeljaw but they did him dirty by just never allowing him to be the show's threat! He mostly just got pushed aside and used by other people. (still sexy tho, his german voice be like WOOOOO-)

Prime Wars: I loved the plot of this, loved what they did with Megatron and it was such missed potential to not make him Prime at the end! QnQ It would have fit so much! Nothing against my monkuh Primal, but come on! Megatron was right there-!

Cyberverse: Loved Roddy as leader and was kinda disappointed when he was done after Prime showed up again. My boy deserved at least an award or something.

WFC: You know me, I loved the stuff between Megatron and Magnus, but it is a shame that we just never got to see how they were pre-war. And not just those two, them, Optimus and Elita as well. I like the plot, just wish we got backstory.

#transformers #transformer rant #transformer posting #g1 #beast wars #tfp #tfa #wfc #unicron trilogy #rid01 #rid15 #victory #headmasters #masterforce #prime wars #cyberverse #video

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blog1917 · 2 years

Text

Marlene Vasquez

November 5, 2021

Family and Community Treasures

EDCE 22102 - Fall 2021

Breaking the Barriers “Farmers Market”

After our last assignment, I realized something very interesting about the Farmers Market. People who have “snap” benefits are able to use their cards to pay for fresh produce in any NYC farmer’s market. So, this got me thinking about the area where I live and how many Farmers markets are available to people within my community, which is low-income families. I took it upon myself to investigate this. I did some research online to see how many farmers markets I could go to within a 5mile distance from where I live and the dates/times they are open. This is what I found:

1. McCarren Park Green Market only open on Saturday 8am-2pm

2. Down to Earth McGolrick Park Farmers Market only open Sunday 10am-3pm

3. Ridgewood Farm stand Open only Saturday 8am-3pm

4. RB Bushwick Farmers Market Open only Saturday 9am-4pm

Then I interviewed some of my friends and families on the topic. I simply asked them three questions. First, “Do you know what the farmers market is? Second, do you know where the bears famers marketplace is around the area where we live? Third, did you know people with Snap benefits can use it towards buying fresh produce from the farmers market? Their responds where:

Lisette G:

Question 1: “Yes”

Question 2: “No”

Question 3: “WOW No I did not, That’s amazing!”

Ricardo A.

Question 1: “Yes”

Question 2: “No”

Question 3: “Nice”

David F.

Question 1: “yes”

Question 2: “No clue”

Question 3: “Oh word! I thought that was only for rich people”

Johnny A.

Question 1: “No Se”

Question 2: “No”

Question 3: “Que bueno” how good

Tony V.

Question 1: “Yes”

Question 2: “I think There’s one all the way down, where the Williamsburg Bridge is”

Question 3: “For real? Then How come we don’t have it near our house though?”

Ana V.

Question 1: “Si”

Question 2: “hay uno en la 14st cuando tu sales del tren L” There’s one on 14st when you come out the L train

Question 3: “no lo creo, dejame decirle a Patria” I can’t believe it, Let me tell Patria (her friend)

Jasmine T.

Question 1: “yes”

Question 2: “Not a clue bro”

Question 3: “That’s awesome, it’s sad they don’t announce it on tv or social media so that people would be well informed of this”

Bryan M.

Question 1: “Isn’t that where people from close farms like from NJ come over to the city and sell their crops?”

Question 2: “I don’t think they come to Brooklyn. That’s for rich wealthy people”

Question 3: “Oh word! No way! I have to look into that. I have a lot of friends that are going to be really hype to hear that”

I also when to the farmers market that is located in Union Square Park, and I was able to interview one of the venders that was there. I was able to ask if he often gets many people paying for the produce that they purchased, by using EBT/Snap. He responded that he does get some customers that uses it but he has noticed that most people pay with either Apple pay, Debt/credit or cash. I then asked him why he think that is and what he thinks would help people become more aware of this amazing benefits? He explained that he does think that the reason why most people use other forms of payment instead of EBT/Snap, is because it’s not promoted well enough. The way that it could change would be by making the signs up higher on each tent that shows that people can use their EBT/Snap benefits. It was a great experience because I was able to be well informed on this topic and it influenced me to speak more about it with those around me as well as positing it on my social media to inform others that perhaps have EBT and would like to get fresh produce from the farmer’s market.

The way That I would be breaking this barrier would be by talking with more people on this topic. Which I started off by doing so with the interviews of those around me. The second thing I plan on posting this information out on social media so that it not only reaches people within my home community but also those that live in different locations where they could then do their own research on whether or not they would get the same benefits with their nearby farmer’s market. Lastly, I spoke with a couple vendors in the farmers market located in 14st Union Square about putting up a large sign that indicates all the different payment methods and showing off the Snap card in bold. So far this action has brought awareness to many people that I know, and it has provided those people to spread the word to others as well. I think this barrier needs to be broken down because there's a lot of people that should be able to benefit from having fresh produce in their home without having to use other forms of payments and not having to travel far to get this service. In the reading “Language Development in Early Childhood” by Beverly Otto states great insights on the importance of children's exposure to language not only in schools but also with their families. Chapter two states, “Verbal interactions with children at home are more tailored for each child or, at most, shared with other children in the family unit” (Otto, pp 30). This is something that is very important because children grasp so much from their family and the day-to-day involvement that their families go through. One of the greatest things about breaking this barrier is that children can help their parents obtain this information when they go with their families to the farmers market. Going based off the community I based this topic on, there’s a large amount of people that would have trouble speaking English to the venders, therefore they can have their children not only be exposed to this new place of getting fresh produce but also exercising their language by helping translate for their parents/guardian at the farmer’s market. There is another interesting article that gives some rich insights of system theories titled, “Ecological Systems Theory: The Person in the Center of the Circles” by Nancy Darling. This article states, “When predicting the strength of association of parental knowledge with positive aspects of development (social skills, friendships with prosocial peers, good academic performance), one might predict a stronger association in high-resource environments'' (pp 215). This is so important for children to be exposed to a new system, where people come from a different state to provide fresh farm grown foods that their families can enjoy together. I think this is a positive aspect of what can occur with this barrier breaking.

Another insightful article is “The Experimental Ecology of Education” by Urie Bronfenbrenner states, “Thus the experience of a child in day care, in the classroom, or the informal peer group, may change the pattern of activities and interaction with parents or siblings in the home, or vice versa, with consequent implications of learning and development” (Bronfenbrenner, pp10). I think this quote is very important because as I stated before when families go food shopping, they tend to bring their children alone with them. By doing so they are exposing them to a new way of shopping for fresh produce that they could eat as a family and perhaps use that information through imaginary play with their friends and open to the conversations about the farmers market that that child’s family goes to. In the last article “What Is a System and a System Perspective?” By David Aloyzy Zera, I’ve gathered insight into system theory. It stated, “When one part of a system changes (or adapts to change), further change occurs, necessitating self-organization as the system tries to equalize itself to the new demands” (,pp). I think that this is a very important quote to analyze because it relates to many systems changing by breaking this barrier of exposing the information of people with snap being able to use their benefits to pay for fresh produce in a farmers’ market. As well as the change that would occur if more farmers market stations would open around the low-income family’s area and they would be available more than just once a week. I believe that system theory would play a big role in this area.

Citation

Beverly Otto. 2018. Language Development in Early Childhood. 5th ED. Pearson

Nancy Darling, 2007 “Ecological Systems Theory: The Person in the Center of the Circles”

Urie Bronfenbrenner. (July 16, 2014). The Experimental Ecology of Education.

http://www.jstor.org/stable/1174755. 10.

David Aloyzy Zera. What Is a System and a System Perspective?

1. Did you know that the farmer’s market accepts EBT/Snap as a form of payment?

2. Do you know the nearest Farmer’s Market place near your community?

3. Do you think this this is an important topic to share? if so, why?

4. Do you agree that this is a barrier that needs to be broken? Why or Why not?

#farmer's market #breaking the barrier

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kanmom51 · 3 years

Note

it's weird seeing you a jikooker answering to an ask that mentions mijoo because it was a really ~weird time and particularly it wasn't pleasant for me and i always wished i could discuss it with someone but it's never brought up and i don't know if people forgot it happened or they just don't like talking about it

I have no problem talking about it.

I think people find it hard to talk about because it feeds into their insecurities, I mean, how could JK back hug this girl if he is with Jimin, right?

Thing is, there is a kind of self contradiction here with Jikookers:

If we believe JK is a gay man, and he is in a gay relationship with Jimin, why would it not stress us out, or why would it be ok for Jikookers when he is back hugging or touching other band members or even other idols? They are men, if he is gay, there is more of a chance he would be attracted to them than to Mijoo, no?

I don’t really see it as a mind blowing earth shattering moment. To me it’s a ‘so what’ moment, especially if I trace back to everything that made me believe in JK & JM’s love. Why would one back hug tear down everything we have seen over the years?

I am aware that I lack the social context, though, as I am not SK, so maybe I’m missing something here, but still not convinced that I am.

I do know that PDA is frowned upon in SK, but JK is a non conformist. He isn’t someone to go according to what is expected from him, he does what he wants, I mean, look at his Tattoos. And what about all those things he has done that we call ‘Grand gestures’, such as GCFT and what he did at RB? If he was someone to conform to what was expected of him he would never have done those.

Where I come from, girls having a gay best friend is something very common, and PDA is also not frowned upon. Why is hugging your girl platonic best friend ok but not your boy platonic best friend?

So, that’s how I see it. Not a big deal. And it definitely didn’t make me change how I view JK & JM’s relationship.

#Jungkook #Jikook #JK #Mijoo #Mijoo back hug not a big deal #JK is a non conformist so don't expect him to act according to societies expectations of him

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queenofbaws · 3 years

Note

from that prompt list u just rb "48. I called you at 2am because I need you" chris/ashley :3 funny OR angsty or whatever strikes ur fancy

(Two important notes from me, your friendly neighborhood writer: (1) Sometimes I like to keep prompts in my inbox for so unspeakably long that when I finally post something for them it’s like a happy little surprise - “Oh man, I don’t even remember sending that in!” you might think to yourself - and it’s DEFINITELY not that I am slow or forgetful or both of those at once; (2) this is PART 1 of a 2-parter, so STAY TUNED!) ---

This was, uh…dumb. This was very, very dumb. Incredibly dumb, some might say, and—hey!—wouldn’t you know it, she’d have to agree! This was so, so, so dumb, because Chris was her best friend in the whole world, and there was literally no reason her fingers should’ve been shaking that badly as they hovered over his contact in her phone.

She pulled her thumbs back and rubbed them along the sides of her phone’s case just to be safe. She wasn’t sure she could trust them at the moment, and if they went and did something stupid like hitting the call button before she was ready…

(As if she ever would—or could—be ready…)

Ashley stared at Chris’s contact. And stared. And then stared a little longer until, whoops, her phone made the executive decision to blink off into sleep mode. That probably wouldn’t be considered an especially awful thing, or even much of an issue, under most circumstances (or by most rational people), but it did force her to get a good look at her own face in the reflection of the screen, and Jiminy Christmas that wasn’t helping.

How long had she been biting her lip?! Why was she grimacing like that?! Good God, this was Chris—why on Earth was she acting like such a dunderhead?!

This shouldn’t have been hard. Really, it should’ve been the easiest thing in the world. It always looked so easy in the movies, at least the Disney channel and ABC originals that served as the foundation for her early years; it only seemed scary from the outside looking in, but once you actually did it, once you actually forced it all out, revealing to your best friend that you’d been in love with them for years and years and years never ended as badly as you might’ve feared.

Except when it did, and oh God why was she doing this?!

She watched her own face in the dark reflection of the phone screen, forcing herself to let go of her lip before it could bleed. “This is dumb,” she said, and was surprised to find a certain measure of relief in actually saying it instead of just thinking it, “So, so freaking dumb…” Tapping her screen to wake it up again, she went to close out of her contacts, disappointed though not terribly surprised that she’d managed to chicken out of the whole thing (again), and…

And her stupid, stupid thumb hit the call button instead.

Ashley stared down at the screen as it changed to read

Chris Hartley

Calling . . .

those three little dots mocking her with each blink as the line tried to ring through. In that moment, she knew she had a choice: She could hang up and throw her phone across the room, bury her head under her pillow and begin practicing an excuse like ‘Oh man, that’s so weird, I must’ve accidentally hit redial or something when checking the time in the middle of the night,’ or…or she could just…do it. Commit. Go with her original plan, the one that was pretty cowardly in its own right, but still involved some sort of vulnerability.

Two rings. Three. She was running out of time either way. She was going to have to do something, so…she took a deep breath, set her shoulders, and tried desperately to remember the spiel she’d typed into her notes app before this. If she could just remember how that first sentence had started, she thought she’d be okay; true, leaving a stilted recitation of a glorified ‘Do you like me? Check yes or no’ note on his voicemail probably wasn’t the most…romantic or grown-up way to go about the whole thing…but at least it wasn’t a frigging text message, so she just had to calm down and remember what she’d written and—

“Yeeeeeello?”

Her eyes very nearly rolled into the back of her skull. “Chris,” she said stiffly, slumping back against her pillows before covering the top half of her face with her other hand. “It’s two in the freaking morning. Why are you answering your phone?”

Why had she thought this was going to work? Why? Of course Chris was still up—she would’ve had more luck catching him sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. Heck, he didn’t even sound sleepy! It was like he’d woken up an hour ago and was just getting a start on the day, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! God she was such an idiot. Just so…so dumb.

“Okay, you do realize I could be asking you the same thing, right?” He started to say something else then, no doubt some sort of lame joke about being nocturnal or something, but whatever it was would remain a mystery forever and ever, as a sputtered noise of understanding swallowed it up. “Wait, it’s two in the fucking morning, why are you calling me? Is everything okay?”

No, Ashley thought to herself, pulling her knees up into a pathetic variation of the fetal position, No, everything is not okay, but like…thanks for asking. She swallowed hard and tried to make sense of the current of panicked thoughts rushing through her head. She could…she could still do it. That was the thing, she could absolutely still do it. This was how it was supposed to be done, wasn’t it?

Well, no, it was supposed to be done in person, face-to-face, all averted eyes and nervous hands and shaking knees, but this was awfully close. Terribly close. Too close for her comfort, maybe.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, shocking herself with how normal her voice sounded.

“You sure?”

Five words. All she had to push out were five stupid words and this would be over, for better or worse: I like you a lot. Done and done. If she could just get those dumb words out then she could get rid of the tight, knotted feeling in her gut and move on with her life. She could do it. She could do it!

Ashley took a steadying breath and pressed her palm that much harder against her eyelids. “Um…actually…there was something I kinda wanted to talk to you about…” She was doing it!!

“Oh yeah? What’s up?”

“I’m not…I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Stalling for time, sure, but still doing it!

Chris snorted a low laugh on the other side of the line. “Ooh yeah, interrupting me whispering sweet nothings to this shitty line of code for the past hour and a half. I think I’ll find a way to forgive you though. Seriously, is everything okay? You sound kinda, uh, tense.”

“I already said everything’s fine, oh my gosh! I just…” This was it! This was it! The moment of truth, the moment it all got brought into the light! “I…started a new file on Ocarina of Time and I can’t remember how to get the bigger wallet. Figured it would be easier to ask you than like…scroll through an FAQ or something.”

Hmm.

That…

Well.

Huh.

Okay.

So much for the moment of truth.

She winced hard enough to make her cheeks cramp. If she didn’t channel some of that deep, deep disappointment in herself into something else she thought she might literally explode into itty bitty pieces, so she give her legs a couple juvenile stomps against her mattress and even went so far as to smack her head back on her pillows a couple times. The nasty little voice in her head wasn’t just chiding her, it was wailing like a tornado siren, screaming a single shrill ‘WHY?!’ into the wind.

Chris, thankfully(?), didn’t seem to privy to any of that. No, oh nononono, if anything he seemed thrilled to have been asked a question he knew the answer to after being so thoroughly stymied by his homework, though she might’ve been imagining that—she was, after all, only half-listening as he rambled on and on about gold Skulltulas and the creepy spider house in Kakariko Village.

Curled up on top of her covers as she was, brow furrowed and teeth bared, the only thing she could think about was…well, what she’d been thinking the whole freaking time: Namely, how dumb this was! Why couldn’t she do this?! She’d had the perfect opportunity, it had been laid there at her feet or, or, or served to her on a silver platter like Thanksgiving dinner, and still she’d chickened out! Still! This was so dumb. It was so, so, so dumb!

“Oh man, thanks,” she said once she heard him starting to trail off. “Guess I like, had some kinda brain blip or something. Nooo idea how I forgot that.”

“Hey, it’s like I keep telling you,” he chuckled, blissfully unaware of how tightly her face was screwed up there on the other end of the call, how downtrodden she felt listening to the smile in his voice, “If you insist on packing your brain full of shit like vocab words and quote-unquote facts, the more important shit you lose.”

“Like 90s video game trivia.”

“Like 90s video game trivia, yeah!”

A corner of her mouth ticked upward at that, not quite a smile but trying its darnedest. “I’ll try to keep that in mind next time I’m in class.”

“Just remind yourself: Every piece of information you remember in a lecture is one Pokémon type matchup that you lose. Or even worse, a cheatcode for The Sims! Imagine…you sit down to some class about…I don’t know, Emily Dickinson, and everything’s going fine and good and you’re learning about the intricacies of poetry or whatever, but then you get home and decide to start up a round of Survivor, only…oh no, you’ve run out of Simoleons and can’t afford the twelve ovens and thirty potted plants you need to make the fire room.”

The smile became a little more genuine then…though she couldn’t shake the feeling of being an absolute idiot. That was the curse of talking with Chris, really—whether she wanted to or not, she always ended up laughing in the end. “Truly a fate worse than death.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, “And that’s why I don’t pay attention in class.”

She scoffed. “Oh, that’s why.”

“Yup. My store of knowledge is far too valuable. For the next generation, I mean. Think about it, I’m a wellspring of wisdom when it comes to crap like this, Ash, and once that wisdom fades from memory? Phew. We’re in trouble.”

“Oh, we’ll be in trouble all right…” After drumming her fingers along the ridge of her brow, she finally let her hand slide away from her face to rest on her pillow instead, giving her an unobstructed view of her ceiling. Part of her had expected to see some sort of psychic message projected there in blinking red letters, ‘IDIOT,’ maybe, or ‘FAILURE,’ but of course there wasn’t anything there save for the long shadows cast by the slats of her blinds. She should’ve known this was a futile effort…it was too much, too big, too scary, too hard…too everything. Maybe…maybe her being a scaredy cat was for the best. Maybe it was the universe cluing her into something she’d been too thick to notice herself. Maybe it was saving her.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay over there?” Chris asked, and her stomach did a funny little flip-flop at the note of concern hiding below his usual laughter. “You keep kinda…I dunno, going quiet. Experience tells me that means there’s something going on in that brain of yours and—”

“I think it’s just past my bedtime, is all.” Not a lie, not precisely. He seemed to take it at face value, though, and that was a relief. “Probably why I couldn’t remember about the Skulltulas in the first place. I should crash.” Ashley rolled over onto her side, switching the ear she held her phone to in the process. “And so should you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah…”

“That code’ll probably make more sense after you get some rest, ding-dong.”

“Doubtful. Incredibly doubtful. But I’ll take it under consideration.”

She snorted a laugh of her own and pressed her lips tightly together for a moment. “Whatever. Thanks again for your help…I’ll try to limit my middle-of-the-night calls from here on out.”

His line was quiet for a second, as though he’d been the one distracted or unsure of quite what to say for a change. “Aw c’mon. You know me, I’ll sleep when I’m dead. ‘Sides, I’m…y’know, always down for some friendly conversation during the witching hour.”

“Witching hour is three am.”

“Yeah, see! So really this isn’t even that late, when you think about it.”

“Goodnight, Chris,” she said, not without a smile—an actual one that time. “Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Ash,” he answered, “You’re not the boss of me.”

A sliver of her tongue poked out to prod at the knot she’d bitten into her lip earlier, and it occurred to her again that…she could just…say it. So she took a breath…

And ended the call.

#fudgeroach #until dawn #until dawn fanfiction #until dawn fic #chrashley #chris hartley #ashley brown #queenie writes supermassive #my fanfiction #keep your eyes peeled for this on ao3 too!!!

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glacecakes · 3 years

Text

The Life and Times of a Tiny Alchemist (1/?)

A series of oneshots set in the universe of Alchemy Lullaby (or, Dadgene and baby Varian). Eugene, Rapunzel, and Varian's life as a family, and the people who helped make it happen.

Current: Set post AL. Quirin adopts a young boy of his own, and bonds with the parents of his son's best friends.

I return! With more baby! There's never enough, all praise be unto him I have no idea how long this series is gonna be, tbh, the 5 is just a placeholder. I may post 20, I may only do 3. Who knows! Not me! I do have a lot of ideas though, lol. Reading AL (link in rb) is highly recommended, but you don't have to if you don't want to. TLDR Eugene adopts Varian, Ulla was a jerk and she's dead now. Hooray! Some of these will be cowritten by the lovely Finnoky who I love very much uwu

Ben is owned by @finnoky and @aj-illustrated :) he's Quirin's adopted son and he is a mini menace. I love him.

Quirin fidgeted awkwardly from where he stood across from to Eugene. It was weird to be back in the palace after… everything. Varian was still afraid of him, and he didn’t blame him at all. Neither did he blame Eugene giving him a distrusting look. But he wasn’t the main focus here. No. The focus was on a small figure currently staring Varian down.

If Varian was small for his age, Ben was even smaller. Though to be fair, Ben was younger; Varian had just turned five, if he remembered correctly, while Ben was still four. His curly black hair and cool brown skin stood out against the others of Dark Kingdom descent, but to Quirin, he was going to fit right in just fine. After all, both he and Varian had a common background.

Following the… incident in Old Corona, Quirin had taken permanent residence. It felt weird to live in what remained of Ulla’s old house, but the farm life suited him better than he’d thought. Almost as if it was what he should’ve done. Well, no use thinking of the past, he told himself. Only looking forward from here on out. Perhaps that’s what drew him to the Corona orphanage.

Varian wasn’t his son, not anymore, he’d accepted that. But now that he had the idea of fatherhood in his mind, he couldn’t let it go. He wanted to raise a child, wanted to be a father. So he’d trekked down and found Ben, with his button nose and roguish charm. The fact that he was Varian’s age was merely a coincidence, but perhaps the first step to repairing relations could be for the two to meet.

“So…” Eugene drawled, smacking his lips together. An awkward silence ensued. Honestly, what are you supposed to do in this situation? It felt a bit like Quirin had just grabbed a kid in an attempt to win Varian’s trust, but that’s not right… right? Quirin’s not that kind of guy, after all.

Then again… Eugene didn’t see him as the type to hurt Varian, but here we are.

“So.” Quirin hummed. Varian clung a bit closer to his dad when he spoke, fear clouding his baby blue eyes. To be fair, Ben was nervous too, his hands shaking where they were bunched into Quirin’s pants.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Eugene raised a brow, and Quirin startled.

“Oh! Yes. This is Ben, he’s four years old, and he’s going to be staying with me for a while.” He smiled down at the little boy. “Ben, this is Eugene and his son, Varian. Varian’s your age!”

Ben pouted, eyes narrowing in on Varian. Who was this kid? What made him so special that New Dad wanted them to meet? “Hi,” He mumbled, and Varian waved back shyly.

“Why don’t you two go play, hm?” Quirin’s eyes are warm, perhaps a bit overeager. “I’m sure you’ll get along.”

“I mean maybe,” Eugene muttered, but nonetheless pushed Varian forward gently. “Why not show Ben around the castle, hm? I need to talk to Quirin.”

Varian whimpered, squeezing his dad’s leg briefly. It was a small sign, a plea for him not to go. But he still let go, toddling over to Ben. The two shared eye contact, before he grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him into the pristine halls he called home, away from the man who they both might have called dad.

“You wanna meet Ruddiger?” Varian asked, leading Ben down the hall towards his room. The kid was a few inches shorter than him, but his poofy hair was tall enough to compensate.

“What’s Ruddiger?” Ben said.

“My best friend!” Varian chimed, more chipper now that he was talking about something he enjoyed. “Well, outside of Hugo. But he’s different.” The younger opened his mouth to ask, but then shut it. Whatever, he didn’t really care all that much.

The castle was massive, nearly overwhelming in stature. How it dwarfed them, nearly swallowed them! Ben’s eyes kept wandering around, from the shadows cast by windows to the ironed carpet floor. How could anyone live like this? He loved his current home, its small farm feel. But Varian seemed right at home. Of course he would be, with his neat hair, and fancy outfit, stupid nice smile and friendly demeanor-

He’s cut out of his thoughts when a striped blur bounces into Varian’s arms. It wraps around Varian’s neck, purring, and suddenly all Ben’s concerns melt away. A raccoon! He loved raccoons!

“Can I pet him?” He whispers, starstruck. At Varian’s nod, he runs a hand through soft fur and squeals in delight.

He changed his mind, Varian rocks.

“So…” Varian says shyly, feet rocking back and forth. “Why did Quirin bring you here?”

“I dunno!” Ben chimed, giving Ruddiger a tummy rub. “New Dad said he wanted to show me off. Or something like that.” He shrugged. He didn’t actually pay attention to what New Dad said (he’d actually wanted Ben to make a friend). I mean, he was pretty great, in his opinion. So it was a logical assumption!

Varian frowned. “New dad…?”

“Yea! Cuz I had a dad before, but this one is new! And the best!”

“Really? Me too!”

“REALLY!?”

Varian nodded. “My dad is new, too! Quirin was my old dad.” Well, Eugene was his first dad, then Quirin, then Eugene again, but that wasn’t important.

Ben frowned. Quirin was Varian’s old dad? Did that mean he gave Varian up? Would he give Ben up, too? He didn’t want that! He liked New Dad! There had to be another explanation…

“Maybe he just didn’t like you.”

Varian gasped. “He liked me a lot! He took me from daddy because he liked me so much!”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d he give you up?”

“Why’d he adopt you? To replace me?”

Oh he did not just go there! Ben grit his teeth and glared up at the older kid, who was pouting down at him.

Ben stood up.

And lunged.

“To clarify, you didn’t adopt Ben to replace Varian?”

Quirin narrowed his eyes in anger. “I’m offended you would think that at all.”

Eugene raised his hands in defense. “I’m just making sure! I’ve seen it happen! Don’t want Ben to get left behind, you know?” It had only happened a few times, but it always stuck with the kids at the orphanage. Someone would come and scoop up a kid, trying to fill a hole in their heart, only to drop them back off when they were too much work or not enough like the kid they lost. It sucked. Why not just get a dog in that situation?

“Of course not. Varian opened my eyes to being a father, sure, but Ben is… special,” he smiled at the thought of him. “Such a silly boy.”

Eugene opened his mouth to respond when a shriek cut him off. It sounded like a young boy! Both fathers completely forgot what they were talking about and raced off in the direction it came from.

“That’s Varian!” Eugene cried, skidding to a stop in front of Varian’s room. He threw open the door, and both men gawked.

Ben had pinned Varian to the ground, hollering and hooting out war cries as he tugged on Varian’s hair. Varian screamed bloody murder and slammed his fists into Ben, grabbing at whatever skin he could find.

“Not again, Ben,” Quirin moaned.

You’d think that after that debacle, they wouldn’t put Ben and Varian together again.

You’d be wrong.

Because about a week later, Varian had tugged on his dad’s pants and asked, “Can we go see Benny?”

Eugene had raised an eyebrow. “You mean Ben and Quirin? I thought you hated him?”

“No!” Varian whined. “He’s fun. He makes me cry.” Eugene didn’t understand it at all, but he supposed if Varian wanted a relationship with his birth dad and his son, he couldn’t really deny him. So they’d started weekly playdates, alternating who travelled where.

The knight (or, well, former knight) was still getting used to his new routine. At dawn he’d get up to help the people of Old Corona, then start on his own farmwork. He started small, just tending to the crops Ulla had. Around midmorning Ben would join him, playing with the wooden sword he’d gifted the lad. It was around then, on a crisp spring morning with sweat lacing his brow and the earth warm at his feet, that he heard his son squeal in delight.

“Varian!” Ben cried, running over, lugging his sword behind him. “Look! New Dad got me a sword!” With a heave he brandished it, holding it high above his head. Unfortunately, he was top heavy, and both boy and sword fell to the ground. Varian laughed, standing over his new friend. Ben pouted up at him, tears budding in his eyes. He whined, and Quirin dropped his farm tools at the sound. His feet carried him over to where he feared Ben was about to burst into tears.

The whines abruptly stopped and Ben started to laugh, joining Varian. He reached up and pulled Varian down into the dirt alongside him, prompting more giggles.

Eugene stood nearby and shrugged.

“Is this normal?” Quirin asked, flabbergasted.

“Don’t ask me, man! I’m just as lost as you.”

“I… Maybe they’re just like this?”

“Yea that’s the working theory.” Eugene let out a breathless laugh. The boys had taken to wrestling, rolling around in the earth like a tumbleweed.

“Boys!” Quirin called, and they stopped to look up. He smiled fondly. It warmed his heart to see. Varian wasn’t his, he knew that. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care deeply. And to see both of the children getting along so well? It filled him with more joy than he’d had in years.

He motioned for them to wait a second, running inside before grabbing his prize. Good thing he’d thought to buy a second for himself. Varian’s face lit up when he reemerged with an identical wooden sword.

The knight leaned down, digging the sword point into the ground. “Can I trust you two not to hurt each other?” He asked. Varia nodded violently. “Alright,” He almost said son out of instinct, though he doubted that would go over well. He held the toy out as if he was a knight suiting up his king. In a funny way, he was.

Varian snatched it up, running over to where Ben waited. He let out a shrill scream before jumping at him with the sword, completely ignoring what Quirin had just said.

Ben shrieked, dodging just out of the way in time. He raised the sword high, this time leaning forward in order to fall towards Varian. Their wooden swords collided with a donk .

“Surrender!” Ben yelled, a feral grin on his face.

Varian’s face was just as unhinged with glee. “Never! I will avenge… uh…�� He looked over to Eugene, who had walked over to join Quirin in the peanut gallery. “Dad! Can I avenge you?”

“Sure,” Eugene responded.

“I will avenge my daddy!” The little prince cheered. It wasn’t a graceful fight, considering how young they were. It was mostly just two wooden blocks smacking together over and over, with the occasional changing of positions. But the boys seemed to have a blast, and that was enough.

“So,” Eugene hummed. Maybe it was the castle staff rubbing off on him, maybe it was that “parent” drive for gossip. Honestly it could be either one. “How is Ben settling in?”

“See for yourself,” Quirin smiled, gesturing to where Ben was chasing Varian through the orchard. “He’s got a warrior’s spirit, that’s for sure. Lots of energy,” his face fell slightly. “He only uses it when he doesn’t think I’m looking, or when he’s outside. It’s like he’s afraid of messing up and upsetting me.”

“Yea, orphanages are pretty strict, he’s probably just getting a feel for the new rules,” Eugene stuck his hands in his pockets. “Varian was the same.”

“Really?”

“Yea, for a few weeks he was terrified of anyone that wasn’t me or Rapunzel.” His smile turned wistful. “Or you, actually.”

Quirin sighed, a bittersweet sound. “I’m just… glad he’s happy,” he managed. Neither of them had really talked yet, about Ulla, or the moonstone, or really… anything about their situation. Perhaps someday they’d be ready. But for now, this was enough.

Quirin wasn’t the only single parent in Corona. Hell, he wasn’t even the only foreigner who knew Ulla and then adopted.

Hugo and Ben probably wouldn’t have gotten along on their own. Hugo was a know-it-all, mischievous, and used his cuteness to his advantage. Ben was stubborn, a stickler for rules, and brutally honest. If they had been left alone, someone probably would’ve gotten hurt. Whether it be one of the boys, or a bystander, that was up for debate.

But they both adored Varian, and Varian adored them. So it was pretty easy for them to form an inseparable trio.

Both Quirin and Donella walked their boys to the castle, watching with amusement as Hugo tried to show Ben what he was reading for the week. It was cute how Hugo adored school, though he wondered how long that would last. Ben was in turn telling Hugo all about the frog he saw in the fields last night.

“It was huuuuge!” He insisted, racing a bit ahead. “Like the size of Ruddiger!”

“Nuh uh!” Hugo pouted. His little ponytail whipped around as he shook his head. “Frogs aren’t that big!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“How big do you think a raccoon is?” Donella butt in, amused.

Ben shrugged. “Big. Maybe like…” he holds his hands out so wide that he almost strains his shoulders. “This big?”

“But if he was that big, we couldn’t pick him up?” Hugo argued. That causes Ben to falter. For a moment his father feared a real argument, but instead Ben lights up and laughs.

“Hugo, you’re stupid! We can’t pick him up!”

“You mean you can’t, cuz you’re a baby.”

Ben shrieks in offense, but still retains a smile. The conversation quiets significantly after that.

“So,” Donella said, turning to Quirin. “It appears we have a lot in common.”

Quirin groaned. If it were up to him, no one would have ever learned about his past; about Varian’s parentage, the woman who tricked him, and her inevitable downfall. But the royal family wasn’t one for secrets (well, except for Frederick). They didn’t tell the entire story, that would be ridiculous, but rather simply said that Ulla had kidnapped Varian and Quirin assisted them in stopping her. The only ones who knew the full story were those directly involved… and those who knew Ulla firsthand. “Is this about our boys, or our ex?”

She smirked. “It was fairly easy to put two and two together. Ulla is… was… something else.” Donella scratched at her scar, an unfortunate habit she picked up. “When we parted ways, I thought my stay in Corona would just be temporary. I’d lay low in the one place she’d never go, and then head back to the Iron Kingdom. Clearly, that didn’t happen.” Her face fell to a frown, squinting at the too bright sun and unpolluted streets. Some shopkeeper waved at them, and Donella simply rolled her eyes. The blinding palace sparkled in the sun as they approached, and part of her lamented not bringing her work goggles, as they might have provided some protection. Over half a decade later and she still wasn’t used to this place.

“What changed?” the farmer asked.

Her eyes fell to their sons.

“Oh.”

“Varian!” Both boys cried in unison. Varian stood in the courtyard, bouncing up and down where he stood. With a fond smile, Eugene let go of his hand, and all three slammed into one another, mouths moving a mile an hour.

“Varian I saw a frog!”

“Well I brought a book! And Mr. Finn says I’m at a 3rd grade level! Whatever that means!”

“And I saw a frog!”

“Well I saw a duck!”

“REALLY?”

“It was a goose,” Eugene corrected. “Hi Don, hi Quirin,” he waved.

Varian giggled, dragging his best friends inside while they continued to talk. His cheeks were a bright red, Hugo was smiling so hard it had to hurt, and Ben eagerly ran circles around the older kids.

He and Donella left to run errands in the capital, leaving their boys in good hands. When he came back, groceries and supplies for his new home in hand, he was directed to a small living room.

The room looked like it had been torn apart, with toys and books and games strewn about. Some were still open, others not even out of their packaging. A fire dimly flickered in the fireplace, illuminating a quiet scene in the center of the wreckage. All three boys slept on the floor, oldest to youngest. Hugo and Varian were holding hands, with the older facing the younger as he snoozed. Varian was smiling in his sleep, his ebony hair reflecting the flames. To his left Ben was passed out, one arm on top of Varian’s stomach, and one of Varian’s legs atop Ben’s. A soft burgundy blanket covered them all.

“It’s cute, right?” Eugene whispered as he approached. “I half expected them to set the place on fire.” Quirin snorted.

“You’re just in time, the first meeting about childcare reform starts soon.” The prince consort continued, motioning for him to leave the boys be.

He beamed. He may no longer be Quirin, knight of the Dark Kingdom, protector of the moonstone. Now he was Quirin, farmer, father, advisor to the royal family and newly-formed Child Protective Services.

He liked this Quirin better.

“So,” he said. “Lead the way.”

#varian #tangled the series #tts #tangled #tts varian #eugene fitzherbert #tts eugene #team awesome #varian and the seven kingdoms

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eury--dice · 4 years

Text

history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did.

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts.

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations.

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen.

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything.

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile.

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin.

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream.

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen.

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?”

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan.

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air.

Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal.

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved.

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply.

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up.

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off. He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall.

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet.

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her.

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right.

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course.

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.”

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.”

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent.

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.”

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”

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gemi-fool · 4 years

Text

the things you call life

jambud week day 7: new beginnings

(ao3 will be added in rb)

a/n: okay so this idea is more than one shot material. so im calling the first chapter a jam bud week thing. but it’s gonna be a multichapter fic! so yeah! chaptersll be posted on ao3.

Steven held Nora’s hand while he and Connie walked her into her first day of kindergarten.

Nora had been born almost six years ago now, four years after Steven and Connie had gotten married. (Unlike Garnet, they’d only fused into Stevonnie for the tradition Ruby and Sapphire started. Both of them had agreed that they didn’t want to live as Stevonnie.)

As they walked into the classroom, Connie knelt down to Nora’s height, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Have a great first day, sweetie,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends if you’re anything like your father.”

Steven laughed. “Yeah.” He pulled his hand from Nora’s, ruffling her hair as Connie stood back up. “Why don’t you go meet some of the other kids?”

Nora nodded, smiling wide at her parents before running off to a small table with crayons and coloring pages that had a few other kids sitting around it. Steven could hear her excitedly tell them “Hi! I’m Nora Universe!”

Connie went to talk to the teacher, and Steven moved over to the side of the door so that he wouldn’t be in the way as he waited. While he was standing there, he felt a tug on the bottom of his jacket, and looked down to see a girl he assumed was in this class, since she seemed to be around Nora’s age. She had black hair with bangs and brown skin, staring up at him with wide, sparkling brown eyes.

“You’re Steven Universe?” she asked. She obviously struggled with her “r”s, pronouncing them as “w”s.

“Uh…” Steven glanced around. “Yes?”

The girl’s awed expression quickly turned into one of glee. “Momma told me all about you!”

He could almost swear he saw a glint of yellow behind her bangs.

“She said you saved the universe! And that Ma was on Earth because of you, so you’re the reason they met! You’re like me!”

Steven blinked. “What?”

The little girl flapped her hands. “I’m Camellia! I’m like you!”

She reached up and pushed her bangs back.

There was a Gem embedded in her forehead. A Topaz, from the looks of it.

“What?”

Before Camellia could answer, another pair of hands was picking her up.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a woman said. Based on her appearance, she was Camellia’s mother. She quickly, and quietly, said something to the girl in Spanish. Camellia responded quietly with a guilty tone.

“No-- no, it’s alright. No worries.”

“I’m Lea Martinez,” she said. “I’m guessing Camellia already introduced herself.”

Steven nodded. “Steven Universe. It’s nice to meet you.”

Lea’s expression immediately morphed into one of shock. “That… explains it, then. Camellia’s been asking anyone who even wears a pink jacket if they’re you for a year now.”

Steven laughed a little. “Wow.”

“Still, I’m so sorry, uh… What do I call you?”

“I don’t do formalities. Just Steven is fine,” he said.

“Alright.”

“But there’s still no need to apologize. Her mom was a Topaz, right?”

Lea nodded. “Topaz moved here ten years ago, or something around that. I was finishing college, we met while I was at the library studying.”

“Huh, cool,” Steven said, “Is Camellia in this class? My kid Nora is.”

“Yep,” Lea responded.

Steven felt Connie return from talking to the teacher, taking his hand in hers. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked.

“Oh,” Steven said, “this is Lea and her daughter, Camellia.”

“I’m like him!” Camellia said, pointing at her forehead. Her Gem was just barely visible through her bangs.

Connie blinked, mouthing a silent “oh.”

“Well, it was really nice meeting you,” Steven said. “But we should get going?”

Lea nodded. “Well, hold on, let me give you my number.” She set Camellia down, but she didn’t run to sit with the other kids quite yet, instead rocking back and forth between her toes and her heel next to her mother.

Lea took out what looked like a business card for a hair salon, writing down her number and name on the back before handing it to Steven.

“I’d love to talk to the two of you again,” she said. “And I’m sure Camellia would too.”

Camellia nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright!” Steven said with a smile. “Well, it was nice talking to you! One of us’ll text you later.”

Lea nodded. “Have a good day.”

Steven gave a thumbs-up as he and Connie went to leave. “You too!” he called.

#su #jamweek #connverse #connie maheswaren #steven universe #suf #su oc

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muggycuphead · 4 years

Photo

FPAVB updates #1 - World 2 remix levels fanconcepts

(Uploading it here too bc why not? Had to resize it because apparently my internet’s on shark week and Tumblr won’t let me upload it on its normal size grrr-)

So yeah Just finished remasterization of Chapter XIII in VB's spanish version yesterday (and I tell you, it's literally crappypasta material since it's W1 remix but slightly fucked up), and went straight into thinking for W2 hyphotetical remix levels Of course they're simple concepts made for VB itself and not meant to be a 'substitute' of the W2 remix Brad might be working on or something like that (just saying this bc I feel kinda awkward about doing something the developer himself hasn't released yet and well, you know-), but whatsoever I'll explain how these would work in an 'in-game' scenario Lets-a-go World 2 'main plot' Since VB Chapter XIV is mostly focused on CPG's play instead of FPM himself, things of course won't work the same for each, but we'll get to it in a moment, keep reading This 'remix' version of mine basically goes with the same logic of the original W2 (A.R. strikes and steals your stuff for asshole points, so you gotta go find where he's at to get your things back), but in Cutie's case, it's Kabootle the one who gets it from the Rabbit (ohotheykidnappedthecatto) and she needs to get to his hideout (yesiheadcanonhimhavingahideoutsomewherefarawaythegolffieldandstuffwhatugonnadoaboutit) to rescue her cat back. However, if this actually was an in-game thing with FPM being playable, A.R. would surely steal the Pen from him instead or any other item that's important for the game to progress and stuff. Anyway, that's how the plot would work in a short (andcarefullyspoilerfree) explanation Now, let's get in the next part: Main Levels Okay, I'll clarify one thing in case you guys didn't notice the little sidenote at the upperside of the image shown here The levels I show here are just the 'starter' levels, meaning there are a few more I got below my sleeve, but I just showed them here for the sake of exposure and also because those other levels are more extense and 'variable-context' -ish, kinda influenced by the W3 original levels and what not. Anyway, I'll try not to extend myself too much on each one's explanation, alongside their entrances and which level's place they're taking (as you may have noticed some even are derivatives of their original counterparts but with different mechanics, anyhow they're propense to suffer changes as they're still on beta states, but that's besides the point) Quick sidenote, I don't really know the original W2 levels' names, so those you see there are just made-up Golf Field 2.0 (Same place, different level location) This is basically as an 'another-extend' version of the original Golf Field itself (for a lack of a better definition) and all that. Honestly I don't really like the idea of using the same mechanic of the 'hole-in-one' minigame that's on FPA2 at its own first level since it might clash a little with Cutie's mindset at CXIV (she's on her way to find FPM and therefore isn't really 'in the mood' for that) and is basically 'filler' stuff, but I'll try to 'soften the atmosphere' a little and implement it in a way that can be appealing to the story's plot (like it isn't that hard)...not to mention I need a hole so Rb gets to do his dicky move towards CPG's kitto (sorry Kaboo bb but y'know this guy won't lose any chances at doing the rob robbery rob rob) Taking the place of: Golf Field in original W2 Entrance: Door Cave 2.0 This is actually a two-in-one, which are: I.- Exploring the surroundings Works with the same format as Golf Field 2.0 (sameplacedifferentspot); no need to explain myself too much here Taking the place of: Cave level in original W2 Entrance: Hole (duh) II.-'Earthdrill' The name is a word play due to the fact it's a big amount of earth-rock structure that got the shape of an 'iron drill' and stuff. Also, this level's kinda got a 3D-like design, I'll say why, just keep reading The mechanic here is simple, you'll be sliding around this whole 'mountain' thing all the way to it's feet while the stage keeps spinning round and round the lower you go (this is why I said it has a 3D feeling since the camera remains on our spot while the scenario keeps moving along with us) But here's the fun part: P A P E R P O R TA L S , S O N ! They're scattered on different places in our way (sometimes on the land, sometimes in the walls, right above us), and we must avoid them -either jumping or flinching- or else they'll teleport us all the way back to the start Pretty simple...Right? Yeah, but actually no There are also some enemies surrounding the places -flying spiders- that'll be aiming ‘web bombs’ towards Cutie in order to stop us, and the way wecan take care of them is hitting the bombs to redirect them towards the fliers so they get covered in webs instead. But don't drop the guard down, they’ll attack with no warning and we'll better watch out when they do Taking the place of: Short Blue loops level in original W2 Entrance: Portal Door Switch-a-roo SO this one is designed differently, althought it keeps the mechanics that one first level where you go riding over ink (don't mistake my words with SFPA there) and all that, but here's the fun part (or torture one, you define it as you like): Find the right door yes, this a tricky one And worst part is, each time you mess it up, some doors (not all, just some) will slightly 'switch' places Anyhow, just to not make it too hard, I'd put a small amount of doors around the place so I don't make Cutie herself lose her mind trying to spot the correct door (and avoid unnecessary time loss) Taking the place of: First inked platforms level (Light Blue) in original W2 Entrance: Door "No-Jump" Zone Remember the 'Earthdrill' level from before? Well, this goes with the same structure (has portals and stuff), but guess what You can't jump Yeah, no Mario boings for you this time, child Okay serious talk now, in this level you have to get all the way downwards to the other side of the stage. You can fall, roll or slide through the inked platforms, but you can't jump or else,once you step on their surface, a secret paper portal will break open and will take you back to the start (YEAH I KNOW THAT'S A DICKY MOVE BUT THIS IS HOW IT WORKS-) Taking the place of: Second inked platforms level (Green) in original W2 Entrance: Door Subterranean [Metro approach] Basic platform level, design idea is yet to be worked on (but it's not a hard idea on it's own, and doesn't need too much of a explanation) It takes place, as you may guess, in an underground enviroment next to a metro stop (idkhowtoreallycallitlmao) Taking the place of: Purple rocks, green hills and trees level in original W2 Entrance: Door Jump! ...but you have to go downwards instead* The Wall-jumping level from before, but you go the opposite direction, and if you don't jump in time you'll be thrown upwards by a 'sped-up' spring to a portal that (AgAInNNN)will bring you back to where you were at first Yeah I kinda flip-flopped on this one, but it's still a BETA so pffft- Taking the place of: Jump! level in original W2 Entrance: Door Metro Basic context level, although this one includes a little 'mini boss/tension' part for interesting points haha- but -This one shares its place-take with another level that's basically W3 Squiggleville level..but it ain't Squiggleville ahahh- Partially* taking the place of: Cactus West/Sky Kingdom/Super Secret Evil Lair of Spiders level in original W2 Entrance: Door As said before there are a few more, but I'll keep them secret for now Extra levels Yep, there are also secret levels in this place And do they bring something to the VB plot? Yes my dude There's a task you must complete, and it is finding all pieces of an important item you must repair (it's a spare key to A.R.'s hideout); the doors are also labelled with a symbol on their upperside to make them easier to find And well...that's mostly it for now Jesus christ my head hurts, that was a lot of writing However, I'll put this to bed for now so I can get to ACTUALLY start digitalizing JSABBR's 2 new pages because HECK I HAVEN'T UPDATED IT SINCE LIKE- JULY?? AUGUST?? I DON'T REMEMBER ANYMORE LOL BUT I MUST GET BACK ON TRACK ASAP I HATE LEAVING SHIT ON HIATUS FOR TOO LONG- Anyway, see you guys in future updates on...whatever I upload next k bye- The Fancy Pants Adventures franchise (C) belongs to Brad Borne TH!FPA:VB|W2 Remix fanconcepts (mostly)|Artwork (C) belongs to me 2020 (C) all rights reserved

#fancy pants adventures #fpa #fancy pants #the fancy pants adventure #fpavb #fancypantsadventuresau #venomous bittersweet #alternate universe #fanfic #fpaworld2remixconcept #aight imma head out now

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