#I’m probably just repeating things I’ve seen others say in a different font

[ineffablydestroyed]

Look I hope they don’t forgive each other immediately but I do hope they forgive each other mutually, not because it’s the easiest thing to do, but because they’ve talked about it and now have an actual understanding.

I keep seeing posts about one of them crawling back to the other, whether it be Crowley once again because he’s always come back for Aziraphale in the past, or Aziraphale doing it for the first time, realizing he’s made a mistake, (which might be necessary to a certain extent this time). But I hope that’s not the majority of how it goes because I feel like it would be a missed opportunity to showcase how their relationship dynamic going forward has now changed. (And for the better.)

They parted for a reason. It couldn’t have happened any other way. Aziraphale has this resolve about helping; he couldn’t have let things lie in Heaven without thinking about what ifs for the rest of eternity. And Crowley himself is pragmatic, even if he’s also radical. Everything he’s done against their systems of oppression has been partially out of spite and a good old middle finger to the man, but mostly it’s been to preserve and protect what he has/his own, not to change the systems themselves.

He knows that the systems are inherently flawed. He calls Heaven toxic; Crowley is the understander of Heaven and Hell’s systemic infrastructure. But that also means he’s constantly been taking only what he can get. He’s an optimist but he’s a realistic optimist. He has to believe the universe is looking out for him but just because he has to believe it’s looking out for him does not mean that he has to extend that belief down to the root issues. As far as I’ve been able to observe, Crowley’s optimism (in the show at least), surrounds Aziraphale, and the little things in Crowley’s life.

Crowley lives through the casual stress of existence under the system with the air of: “Will Heaven and/or Hell notice a, b, or c? Eh it’ll probably be fine. Let’s hope and move on.” “Will Aziraphale listen and go along? You can only try can’t you? What’s the harm?”

It couldn’t have happened any other way. Aziraphale has resolve to make change, and Crowley needs to see that this resolve is worth it, and he needs to see that this resolve is the protection and preservation of his own—not the protection and preservation of it in its current state, perpetually, forever, but a protection and preservation of its future, and something better, and the opportunity to be anything it wants, including what it already is.

Crowley wants Aziraphale to be free in the same way he feels he himself is, but it’s as free as he believes they can be under the given circumstances, (and he knows that): just an Angel and a Demon going along with Heaven and Hell as much as they can. He needs to be shown by Aziraphale that they can take more, change more, do more than just watch out for each other and look over their shoulders, and then he needs to help Aziraphale take it a step further and dismantle it all.

And Aziraphale knows he can’t do it alone. He doesn’t want to go back to Heaven without Crowley. He probably isn’t even quite sure what it is he can’t do alone, just that he can’t do it without Crowley, who has always been his partner in these things (if even on a much smaller scale). He says this, if even crudely. He says “I need you.”

Aziraphale needs Crowley. Crowley needs Aziraphale. They parted to learn and progress separately, because they need each other, and now they need to reunite to learn and progress together with what they have learned alone.

This isn’t an apology dance situation; this is an “I have fundamentally misunderstood what you were saying to me” situation, and “now let’s talk and cry about it and maybe both apologize for being fools,” situation. But neither of them were wrong. And neither of them were right. And I think one of the best parts of it is that they don’t have to be wrong or right, and they shouldn’t be, because this is their chance to get those shades of grey in their relationship dynamic officially spoken for and established, and it opens up so much for them.

#I’m probably just repeating things I’ve seen others say in a different font #but I agree with all those people so hard #and maybe I’m a little protective of Aziraphale #who I keep seeing being misunderstood #good omens #good omens season two #ineffable husbands #good omens meta

[puppypaw-wc]

random rhythm heaven facts i know off the top of my head for some reason

uh i’m bored so. have random rhythm heaven facts that i just. know. for some reason.

despite being the only game in the series to not have any lyrical remixes, ds is tied with fever for the most original lyrical songs, with each having five. ds has thrilling! is this love?, love ooh ooh paradise, young love rock n’ roll, struck by the rain, and that’s paradise; fever has tonight, lonely storm, dreams of our generation, i love you my one and only, and beautiful one day.

i emphasize “original” because without that, megamix beats fever and ds, having around eleven lyrical songs in total; only counting original lyrical songs, megamix has three (tokimeki no story/lush remix’s music, i’m a lady now/honeybee remix’s music, and um. whatever machine remix’s song is. in the english version though it only has one original lyrical song).

tengoku has four lyrical songs: karate man’s song (which like. idk if it even has a name- does it get name privileges-), the bon odori, honey sweet angel of love, and wish - can’t wait for you.

the fastest song is in ds; big rock finish c’s bpm is 290. the second fastest is also a ds game, namely remix 4, with,,, i believe 222 bpm?

the slowest game is built to scale and built to scale 2; at their slowest, their bpm is 60.

while endless games’ bpm is all over the place due to speeding up, clap trap literally has no (or at least no known) bpm. somehow.

no i don’t know anything about music.

i do, though, know remix 10′s bpm off the top of my head. it’s 166 in case you were curious. remix 10 ds’ bpm is 160. remix 6,,, it’s 138.7 or something like that? idk the exact decimal number. left-hand remix’s bpm is 120 i think. i have no idea on right-hand remix’s. and final remix starts at 160 bpm, increases to 170 at the end, and finally, ends at 180 bpm.

i have memorized the controls for literally every game. no i will not list them here because that’d take too long.

lockstep is the only ds keep-the-beat game to not have flick controls.

barelys (early/late inputs that are too early/late to count as hits) usually count as misses, but there’s a few exceptions to this:

some games will have barelys allow you to pass the practice, but then not actually count in the game itself. the main offender of this is flipper-flop. flipper-flop’s barelys make it so hard to perfect dear god-

in ds, three games’ perfect campaigns count barelys as hits, those being shoot-’em-up, frog hop, and lockstep. despite this, they still count as misses when playing normally, meaning you can get a perfect that wouldn’t be a superb. that always happens to me when i play lockstep 2.

most games have clear indicators for when you got a barely, though some are relatively similar to a miss, but some games have literally no indicator of barelys. unsurprisingly, all but one are in ds:

the games in question are glee club (sometimes; i’m guessing it’s when it’s still a barely but it’s right on the line between barely and early/late hit) moai doo-wop, love lizards, space soccer, and, in fever, shrimp shuffle. this means that a perfect campaign can end despite everything seeming completely fine. (sometimes you can tell you got it wrong, but it can be difficult, personally the only one i can tell in is shrimp shuffle and also space soccer sometimes).

barelys always count as misses in megamix. due to this, barelys mess up perfects on shoot-’em-up, frog hop, and lockstep. yet for some reason, barelys still let you pass flipper-flop’s practice. i have no idea why since in literally every other instance they’re a fail, but they do.

there’s like three beats for keep-the-beat games (games where you have to press a/tap/whatever every beat). this is easily seen in megamix’s final remix, where there’s a part where it smoothly transitions between flock step, frog hop, and bunny hop, and then cues you into marching orders (which is likely just due to the bunny hop part ending with a long jump).

the main beat is shared between almost every keep-the-beat game. all the undeniable keep-the-beat games use it.

rhythm rally and air rally,,, i think both have the same beat? i don’t know though. i don’t know if either of them can even count as keep-the-beat games tbh.

donk-donk and shrimp shuffle both have unique beats, which i guess brings it up to four different beats.

yet again, no, i do not know what any of this means.

there’s eight karate man games (both of tengoku’s, both of ds’, both of fever’s, and both of megamix’s original karate man games). a karate man game has appeared in literally every game and i don’t know why.

fan club’s bpm is like 132 or something like that? i mean that’s at least what rhythm heaven remix editor says the “ooh”’s bpm is at i think. it might be 162. i really don’t remember.

i’ve memorized the entirety of remix 10, remix 10 ds, and remix 6. so that’s a thing. though sometimes remix 6 messes me up when i’m just trying to remember it without playing. i can’t memorize megamix’s medley remixes for the life of me.

i’ve also memorized remix 8 because of course i have, who’s surprised at this point?

quiz show is a game that exists. it’s interesting in that you don’t have to follow rhythm at all. it’s a repeat-after-me game, but all that matters is that you press the button(s) the same amount of times.

it also ends if you get a question wrong, and unless it was the last one, that gives you an immediate try again. it’s one of three games to end prematurely, the other two being the night walk games (night walk 2 can also end prematurely).

it only has music playing at the beginning for some reason.

did i mention it got into megamix instead of an actually good game? instead of an actual rhythm game? in rhythm heaven?

megamix’s english dubbing sucks.

they seemingly had a low budget, so i will cut them some slack, but that doesn’t stop the fact that it’s terrible.

the title cards for games use the same few fonts, while in previous games they nearly all had original fonts.

none of the original songs got dubbed. instead they’re just instrumental. and dear god do i hate it. thus, with english audio, the only remix song is i’m a lady now, which is in english in all versions.

space dance and marching orders. just,,, space dance and marching orders. dear god.

luckily, and possibly due to the dubbing, megamix has the option to change between english and japanese audio. i have no idea if that’s only in the english version or if it’s in other languages’ translations, but it’s nice either way.

ds just straight-up lies to you. at the beginning of the game, it says it’s completely controlled with the touch screen, but then in the game right before remix 10, the r-button is used.

due to this rockers 2 sucks on emulator.

ds has too many repeat-after-me games, i can think of five off the top of my head. ds’ repeat-after-me games also aren’t even that good? moai doo-wop sucks, shoot-’em-up and love lab are fine i guess, i like freeze frame, and drummer duel’s pretty fun (though i’m pretty sure it’s just spam? is this spam heaven now? where did the rhythm go?).

this probably doesn’t make sense to like ninety percent of you. 😔

#puppy rambles #rhythm heaven on main #i like when i'm bored so i just ramble about random rhythm heaven crap on main #that should probably logically go on my sideblog #but i mean there's a ninety percent chance i've rambled about it there #god i really do only mention tengoku like twice in the entirety of this post #i barely know anything about tengoku #i've played it but i barely know anything about it #other than polyrhythm 2 is rhythm purgatory #polyrhythm's a good game #but polyrhythm 2? rhythm purgatory

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes pt16:Royal Court

Flynt:Well look who it is!? Wasn’t expecting to be sent back to the past like this.

Veronica:Nice to see you too Mr. Smooth Criminal.

Flynt:I see your mom gave you her wittiness too.

Veronica:Hardly. If you hear me crack a pun then check to see if I have the flu or something.

Flynt:I meant Blake.

Veronica:Oh…not, not sure how I should take that.

Flynt:Don’t think about it too much. So you’re here to help set everything up? Well we sure don’t mind all the extra hands; more helpers mean more time for everyone to rest. Unless you’re a crazy person who doesn’t know how to rest.

Nick:Gee I didn’t realize Atlas became Shade. Always picking on me for the little things.

Flynt:All in good fun. Well Veronica, glad to have you. I won’t lie to you and say our school holds the most welcoming environment despite their reasons for being here, so don’t hesitate to come get me if anything serious happens.

Veronica:Thanks for the offer but I know how to handle myself and a few close minded simpletons.

Flynt:Somehow I have no doubt about that.

He grabbed a pin that said committee on his desk and put it on her shirt. Veronica bowed slightly before taking her leave. It was always interesting for Nick seeing the girl be so polite. The way she could flip between her manners with anyone so fast was always something she was good at. He once saw her go from shaking a man’s hand to punching them in the face in the blink of an eye.

Flynt:Is your sister here today?

Nick:I’ll hunt her down if she isn’t, why?

Flynt:Only asking. I know I tell you to let others handle their own workload but I advise you to keep an eye on Veronica just in case.

Nick:Trust me, Veronica might have a temper but she typically thinks things through; the school won’t get a bad-

Flynt:I don’t care about this place’s reputations, or my position for that matter. Your friend just looks like she’s nearing the end of her rope.

Nick:Really? What gives you that vibe?

Flynt:When you partner up with a cat faunus, you learn a thing or two. As far as tails go, it usually isn't good when they’re wrapped around the waist and all tense; almost like she’s hugging or bracing herself.

Nick:When does Neon do it.

Flynt:When she’s being defensive. Keep in mind I could be entirely wrong in Veronica’s case though. Just something to be aware of.

Nick:Hmm interesting. Thanks for the heads up.

Nicholas gave his principal a wave before heading out, his words taken to heart. ‘Maybe Yang was right to worry?’ He chewed on his bottom lip as he slowly caught up to the girl. ‘Right or wrong, getting her to eat couldn’t hurt.’

Nick:You know I think breakfast is still being served. I’m pretty hungry after looking for you and I bet running on rooftops made you peckish. Wanna grab a bite really quick? The school’s chicken bisc-

Veronica:Not interested, sorry. I would rather find where I’ll be working.

Nick: ‘Too direct’ Lunch isn’t for awhile. Working on an empty stomach-

Veronica stopped and opened her bag. Nick looked in it and saw several fruits and what was probably protein bars. He’d be impressed if prior knowledge didn’t make this seem like a yellow flag at best.

Veronica zipped back up her bag and continued walking, now a little faster. Her focus was derailed by Nick grabbing her wrist and making her jolt, spooking both of them. He didn’t comment on it and started guiding her down a different hallway.

Nick:You’re walking as if you know where to go. For future reference, wooden doors are regular classes and school stuff. Metal doors are combat related. You’ll work in the student council room; the creative arts hallway is to the right of it. They have plenty of time between classes for you to get whatever you need.

Veronica:Alright, easy enough to remember.

Nick:Fill free to explore the school if you want but don’t interrupt any classes and a lunch monitor will probably get on you if you go in there during different blocks.Summer has lunch at noon.

Veronica:And why would that matter to me?

Nick:So you don’t bump into her on accident, or if you need her for whatever reason. Do not, and I repeat, do not give her a hard time. She already hates school enough.

Veronica:Relax, I’ll play nice. Don’t expect me to sit with her at lunch or anything. That lunch room is probably loud as hell.

Nick:Summer eats on the roof, or the nurses office. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her at a lunch table. Then again, I don’t spend a lot of time there either.

For some reason that was interesting to learn. Veronica was sure those two would have taken the time to eat with each other or be around peers; even if it was for show. Nick seemed like he’d use lunch for studying so she guessed it wasn’t that surprising. ‘Knowing Summer she would go there if you did.’ Veronica thought.

They finally reached the committee room. Nick grabbed the door knob but didn’t get the chance to twist it before it already swung open with Eliza on the other side.

Eliza:I swear if this boiler room doesn’t get its shit togeth-

Nick:....Uh, hey. Busy morning?

Eliza:You would know if you got here early like the president this school believes you to be!

Nick:One, I’m usually here thirty minutes prior so don’t come at me. Two, a hello would be nice. Finally, the boiler room messing up again?

Eliza:One, hello. Two, I’m here an hour early, three, yes it’s taking too long to warm certain things if at all. Finally, where’s the person who knows how to fix it?

Nick:Haven’t seen Valerie and you definitely know I haven’t seen Winchester, that’s your headache.

Eliza:Ugh, I guess I’ll cheat and warm it up myself.

Nick:Don’t blow us up…

Eliza:Shut up, unlike you I’m cautious. Might’ve come in handy against that Paladin.

Nick:Like you would’ve said yes if I asked.

Eliza:Who knows? If you got on your knees I might’ve said yes instantly. Guess we’ll never know; why aren’t you in home room ?

Nick:Last time I checked, you want to be kept in the loop from now on. We have another person helping starting today.

Eliza directed her attention to Veronica and looked her up and down before looking at Nick annoyed.

Nick:Problem?

Eliza:Yeah, I would’ve called a short meeting if I had known earlier. Being kept in the loop doesn’t mean telling me something last second.

Veronica:This was a last second decision. Lucky me because I hate meetings. I’m-

Eliza:I know who you are Veronica Belladonna; I’ve read about you quite a bit actually. Quite a shame your work doesn’t have much to show for it.

Veronica:I could say the same thing about your tournament rankings. Third place gets such a tiny font in the papers.

Eliza:Hmph, kitty has claws alright. Looking forward to seeing what you contribute. Nick looks confident in you so I’m sure it’ll be fruitful. There’s a list of things that need to be done inside the room already. Don’t hesitate to make my life easier.

Eliza shot Nick a cold look as she walked out slowly. Nick couldn’t help but notice the girls slightly sluggish movements.

Veronica:I don’t like her.

Nick:You don’t like most people so what’s new? Eliza is a hard ass but she’s a good person. Definitely reliable, so don’t piss her off. She’s already gunning for me at the tournament and I don’t need anger behind her hits.

Veronica:This list of people I have to be chummy with is getting too long for my taste.

Nick:Vee, I’ve only named three people. Three good people at that. Well...two and a half. Anyways I gotta get to class so you’re on your own for now.

Veronica:Have fun with that. Don’t be surprised if I’m running this entire place by the end of the day.

Nick:That would mean dethroning me, a tall order.

Veronica:Who says we can’t rule together? You know, as king and queen?

A blush spread across his face before he heard Veronica chuckle, only making him redder. Nick turned away in embarrassment and headed to class. It never took much to get him flustered. Veronica felt a little bad; it was something his classmates probably didn’t know.

‘Try all you want Nick,I won’t let you keep your cool.’ Veronica thought, still chuckling to herself. She would’ve continued to do so if the bell didn’t snap her out of it and hurt her ears. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.

Vee went ahead inside the student council room. It was surprisingly spacious and barren. Mostly tables lined around it and a giant blackboard filled with words. Papers were spread around the desks. ‘Wow, disorganized much?’ She took a deep whiff of all the different scents in the room, recognizing a few.

Her eyes scanned the desks. ‘Nick, Valerie, Eliza, even Summer, and several more.’ One paper caught her nose in particular. ‘It wouldn’t be unusual for all the members to have held the list. So...this one?’ She picked up a thin stack that was stapled together. Bingo, the nose always knows.

Venue, light arrangement, stage size, schedule events, all of it was laid out in detail; even down to the estimated budget. One page was a map of the layout which really helped? But something was off. All of this might’ve been planned out it seemed...conceptual. Scatterbrained even. Like all the thoughts were together but going in different directions at the same time.

‘The room isn’t the only thing disorganized it looks like. This list is like a buffet when it should be a potluck. Divide the work, make sure there’s no repeats or clashing themes. If the fights are the main course…’ Veronica took a seat and grabbed a pencil along with fresh paper. ‘Then let’s make sure to give the people plenty of complimenting sides and palate cleanser.’

xxxx

“That's all you can do! Talk about slow!” Valerie shouted with gusto, her hands juggling her tomahawks in the middle of the arena ring.

“Shut up!” Cried her sword wielding opponent. They charged forward with their sword at the ready.

Valerie made no attempt to stop her juggling. Her eyes pierced right into her foe’s as they prepared for a thrust. Valerie shook her head in disappointment. “Sloppy”

The words reached the student and a dark blue glow washed over them. Suddenly their muscles felt heavy, air felt stingy, and their balance was off. The steel sword tipped too far forward and made them stumble, their body stopping at the perfect distance to receive a powerful roundhouse kick to the face that sent them flying out of the ring.

A buzzer rang right after and Valerie finally let her weapons hit the ground as she walked to the edge to see Harriet helping the dazed student.

Valerie:Their jaw okay?

Harriet:If you have to ask then that means you knew you were being too rough. You get a B- Valerie. Please remember restraint. Your semblance and strength can really hurt someone.

Valerie:Sorry…

Harriet:Don’t be sorry, be careful.

That was a line Valerie was familiar with. She watched Harriet help the student to their feet and guided them to the changing room before turning to the rest of the class.

Harriet:Well then, I say that’s enough for practical fights. Unless we have any volunteers, Summer?

Summer: Y-Yes!? I mean no! No, I’m fine. Training is all...covered and stuff.

Harriet:Fine then. Okay everyone knows the drill. Five laps around the track and then you are free from my charming voice. *claps hands* hop to it!

A collective groan came from the class before they started walking to the door. Summer waited for others to be ahead of her like usual and waited for Valerie to catch up.

Valerie:Enjoy the show?

Summer:Eh, felt like a rerun of most of your matches.

Valerie:What can I say? Being this good means I’m always a safe bet princess.

Summer:You won’t be if you call me that again.

Valerie:Ooo feisty today.

Harriet:You’re one to talk. *folds arms* Valerie, thirteen laps for you.

Valerie:What!? But I hate cardio!

Harriet:Good, I’m sure whatever aggression you have will burnout; Summer you have seven. A warning for all your absences.

Summer:Fair, but literally the day after? We’re still sore.

Harriet:Physically or mentally? Just kidding, I know it’s both. Now go before I add more laps.

Summer and Valerie:Yes ma’am…*runs off*

Harriet:Teenagers…

Valerie:Man this sucks! So I hit a little harder than I meant to, so what?

Summer:You’re gonna run out of breath before you start your laps.

Valerie:Maybe then I won’t overlap you.

Summer:Please, you’d need time dilation to do that with your speed. I’ll call you if I need to move some furniture, you lumberjack.

Valerie:Ouch, feisty. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?

Summer:No, but obviously you did. Seeing you in my bus seat this morning was pretty unexpected.

Valerie:Too sore to swallow. I figured-

Summer:That you wanted distance from Nick?

A pit in Valerie’s stomach dropped like a weight. She looked towards Summer to see neutral eyes examine her in great detail. She wondered what exactly it was that Summer was looking at. Color, sweat, hidden guilt, or fear?

Summer:Did you tell him about the bus? Actually, not fair, I don’t wanna know that. What I should be asking is...no, not that either. Sorry, I probably sound like I’m spouting craziness. What I’m getting at is I’m upset too, about my performance during the exam.

Valerie:You tr-

Summer:I swear if you say I tried my best then I’ll scream.

Valerie:....Sorry. You’re wrong though, about me being upset. Frankly I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling. Anxious, embarrassed maybe? I just know I don’t really want to deal with Nick right now. Nothing personal, honestly.

Summer:No offense but it’s entirely personal. I’m not gonna blame you for wanting alone time. Nick and his overwhelming nature is...overwhelming. Always butting in, worrying about everyone but himself and-

Valerie:Being absolutely sweet? It’s all out of kindness; which I don’t necessarily know if it makes it better. I think it does anyways.

Her eyes seemed to drift off thinking about it. He really was always there for anything. Good or bad, Valerie would see the idiot next to her. It was genuinely comforting, and scary. Scary for reasons that for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out.

She was thankful when Summer touched her arm and dispelled the mix of conflicting emotions. Val shook her head and cleared her throat.

Valerie:Enough about Nick! Let’s talk about something more progressive, like how to delete a video the entire school has seen.

Summer:No amount of money or power will erase it. Eliza really screwed us on this one.

Valerie:Wait, what!?

Summer:She’s the one who recorded the quality video. Not out of malice or anything but-

Valerie:I’m gonna fight her…

Summer:Ignoring me? That’s cool too.

Valerie:Oh I heard you, still pissed!

Summer:What happened to not being pissed?

Valerie:Okay, so I’m a little pissed. Ugh! Of all people. I hope she makes it far in the tournament. I don’t think I can take any more nosy people.

Summer:(Should I mention Veronica?)

Valerie:*cracking knuckles* I’m fired up now!

Summer:(Nope) Cool, start running then. Think of it as a head start.

Valerie:Fine, but if I finish my laps before you then I think that’s worth some sort of prize. Let’s say...a movie, just the two of us?

Summer:Hmmm, no deal. I sort of have this thing where I don’t go on dates with my brother’s crushes.

Valerie:We don’t have to call it a date. It would be two friends hanging out like buds.

Summer:.....

Valerie:Yeah, I didn’t believe myself either. Come on, what’s wrong with one simple date?

Summer:Nothing, if it were simple. One of these days you’ll figure it out.

Valerie:Figure what out?

Summer:Finish your laps first and I might tell you, if you beat me that is.

Valerie:You’re on!

Summer makes no effort to start running as Valerie takes off with renewed determination. No doubt it will carry her for at least three laps. Win or lose, Summer planned to keep her mouth shut. There were certain things that should be learned in time, instead of told outright. She had faith in Valerie.

Either way it would take time, almost like a cheesy romance novel. Slow burns never interested Summer. There was always a person who crossed a line. Good thing Nick and Valerie were way too smart to do anything that would endanger their friendship, right?

xxxx

Time seemed to be moving at a snail's pace today. At least it was for Veronica anyways. There was a small stack of paper near her now. Each one filled with edits that reorganized all the organized chaos from the council. ‘I hate to admit it, but this Eliza check really puts in work. They all do in some way; Valerie might look dense and lazy but I shouldn’t be surprised that she can handle work. Can’t say much for her creativity though. Still, Nick seems to stand above it all. Just like him to try without showing it. Tiny notes that build upon the others.’

Veronica grabbed the next sheet of paper and kept her pace. This was far easier than designing clothes. It was almost therapeutic in a way. The only thing that was distracting her from her growing agitation. Snacks, all gone. Hunger? So intense that it hurt everywhere. Bones, eyes, nerves, all of it. She wasn’t used to this pain, and she doubted she ever would be.

Calmly she felt her stomach grumble against her nails; which threatened to sharpen. It wouldn’t surprise her if her eyes looked more cat like right now. A wiser Veronica would’ve binged at a buffet before visiting Atlas. She could usually go longer without caving; maybe it was the boat ride? Veronica knew for a fact any instinctual push could potentially set her off. Too late for regrets. No way would she let people see her go feral. Not when they were already talking…

“Did you see that girl with Nick today? Haven’t seen her before.” Said someone in the hall. “You think that girl is rich or something? A girl said in a classroom. “Ha! How rich could a faunus get!?”

The chatter kept coming from every direction.

“That girl is pretty smoking.”

“Jungle fever much?”

“You know what they say about faunus girls.”

“Probably a charity project.”

“Never seen ears and a tail at once.”

“I think she’s ugly honestly”

“Pretty, for a faunus.”

“I think she’s a halfbreed.”

“Freak….”

Her pencil snapped. She basically shattered it to gain some sort of control, ignoring the splinters yet accepting the pain in full force as she kept her fist clenched tight. Veronica wished folding her ears down could be enough, that if she covered them tight she could finally get some quiet; that would be wishful thinking. Tactics like those never worked.

‘Different place, same people. So do what you were told Veronica.’ She told herself. A deep breath in, then out. Letting her eyes close and focus on the only thing that mattered. Herself. Her thoughts and opinions; long flowing hair, sun tanned skin, ears, tail, blood…

All little things that made her up she thought were just fine; not perfect, but not flawed either. They were simply her and that was glorious. As long as she believed that, as long as the people who mattered believed it, then who gives a fuck about what’s said outside?

“Hey princess, come to grace us with your presence?” Veronica heard, from what could possibly be the fakest happy voice in existence. accompanied by the frailest one she’s heard all her life.

xxxx

Summer:Ple-please le-leave-ah!

An arm brushes pass her head and slams into a locker directly behind her. Summer clenches her belongings close to her chest and stares up into the taller girl's brown eyes. Dark brown hair and brown skin really made her stand our. No doubt a cheerleader or head of a club. Combat school or not, beauty was the law of the land to an extent.

A small crowd started forming around them in curiosity because of the noise.

Jordan:What, Princess? Am I not worth your time? I just wanna catch up.

Summer:You’re...causing a scene.

Jordan:That a problem? Don’t you like all that attention and limelight; the personal benefits that somehow let you float above it all?

The girl put her fingers through Summer’s hair. Her eyes drilling into the girl with obvious hostile intent.

Jordan:You know, I’m getting really sick and tired of being overshadowed by someone who never lifts a finger. I miss a day and there’s hell to pay. You miss weeks before and yet your grades stay the same. What, got that fine brother of yours bending over backwards?

Summer:What? No I-

Jordan:I was really hoping you’d get what was coming to you yesterday but of course not. I will say it is hilarious letting people see how frail and useless you are. Maybe if you spent more time eating a sandwich instead of trying to do something with that useless voice of yours…

That insult hit a special spot.

Jordan:Then maybe you wouldn’t be such a lightweight. At least you finally know how to dress yourself. A blow to the head must’ve knocked some sense into you. Doesn’t change the fact you still have all those hideous scars. I bet your fans would love to see-

It was sudden, almost instantaneous. The girl had gone from trash talking one minute, then to holding her wrist right after a loud smack from another hand had invaded Summer and Jordan’s delightful conversation. Summer hadn’t even realized Veronica was watching, let alone standing next to her currently.

Murmurs started to grow louder as the students stared at this unfamiliar faunus that stood confidently, hands on her hips and a look that could kill. Veronica paid no attention to them or Summer for that matter. Instead she had her attention on the bully. A thin red whelp on the girl’s wrist made Veronica silently say “shit” to herself. Her nails must’ve grazed the skin; a genuine mistake.

She was already questioning why she showed up here in the first place. A fight was the last thing she needed or attention. So why intervene? Why prevent Summer from turning on the water works? Easy answer, basic people pissed her off

Veronica:Ever heard of personal space? I thought all Atlesians knew basic etiquette but apparently not.

Jordan:Umm who the hell are you supposed to be?

Veronica:It’s not polite to ask others their name without introducing yourself either, but I guess anyone would want to know the name of a person that threatens them. Then again, a school like this would be diligent in political topics.

Summer:You think the majority of kids here pay attention to the news or the bad part of history?

Veronica:I guess this is what passes for elite around here. How disappointing.

Jordan:Listen, apparently you don’t know things work around here new girl but I’m-

Veronica:Completely irrelevant to me, an afterthought when this is all over. I don’t know how popular you might be or who you might know. Keeping shooting your mouth off and this headache of mine isn’t going to go away. Find something more productive to do than play bully.

Jordan:Ha, so that’s what this is about!? Didn’t realize that good for nothing princess had any friends besides that idiot sports jockey.

Veronica:Please, I wouldn’t be this child’s friend even if she paid me. Her crying hurts my ears almost as much as your prissy voice.

‘Oooos’ came from the crowd of people. It didn’t matter what school you went to, kids craved this kind of back talk. Summer wasn’t sure how things suddenly got so hostile, but that jab at her irritated her.

Summer:Yeah well why would I ever want a friend like you?

Veronica:Crippling loneliness.

Summer:Oh, so I would have to be desperate? That sounds about right.

Veronica:Go jump in front of another robot arm or something, the big kids are talking. Or I’m talking, this chick is pouting.

Jordan:I will not be talked to like this! Not by some...some…

Veronica:Say it, call me anything that has to do with being a faunus and see how far it gets you.

Jordan:A flea bag like you doesn’t scare me you bitch.

Summer:Hey! D-

Jordan:Excuse you, why are you even talking still, or even here!? Do us all a favor and fucking disappear like the nothing you are. I mean honestly, why the hell are you even alive?

The crowd went absolutely silent, all eyes went on Summer. Her heartbeat felt like it nearly stopped entirely. Feeling small was something she was used to. Jordan hadn’t said anything Summer didn’t think of before and yet right now, in this moment, Summer felt like she had been shot right in the heart.

Why? Why couldn’t she say anything back? What made all these eyes so terrifying? The eyes that no doubt saw her on stage before where they didn’t mean a thing. The eyes that most likely laughed when they saw that stupid video. Summer could feel herself choking up and bit her lip.

‘Something, do something damnit! Anything is better than nothing!’ Her chest felt like fire and Jordan smiled as she knew what would happen next, only making Summer angrier. ‘Do anything but cry! Just-’

Her screaming thoughts were suddenly halted by the sting of Veronica flicking her arm. Her face showed severe annoyance at Summer.

Veronica:So what, you can fight with me all day but do nothing here? Could it be...you think I’m somehow beneath her!? The hell is up with that?

Jordan:The fact that you don’t realize that proves just how delusional-

Summer:Please, you’re way more insufferable Veronica. Jordan might as well be an ant with how basic she is- *covers mouth*

More “oooos” came from people chattering. That might’ve been the first time her classmates heard her say anything so...so rude. Jordan grit her teeth and clenched her first, definitely uncharted territory for Summer.

It might’ve been a good idea to leave, hell, maybe even apologize just to prevent further trouble, but the look Veronica gave her made it clear that wasn’t a choice. Not only wasn’t it smug, it pissed Summer off a little. Like hell she’d back down now!

Summer:I mean just look at her, all looks with no substance.

Veronica:I bet this bitch thinks she’s so smart. At least compared to you.

Summer:Hell no! I can sleep through half a test and still be ahead of her with her with how bad her grades are.

Veronica:Oh so she’s trying to get by on her looks? How pathetic.

Summer:Looks she bought too, or I should say her parents bought.

Jordan:Says who!?

Summer:You think no one would notice last year when you came back from spring break with a new nose? Or were you thinking everyone would focus on the boob job? Puberty doesn’t do all that in two weeks so you either found the gods, a ton of surgeons, or a godlike surgeon.

Jordan:*red* Like you’re one to talk about looks. Upset no amount of money could remove those hideous-

Veronica:So you admit to the surgery?

Jordan:Shut up bimbo!

Veronica:That sounds like hater talk.

Summer:Yeah at least Veronica is a natural beauty. I might wear a smidge of concealer but that’s nothing compared to you. Boring...

Veronica:You hate to see it, basic. Do you even fight? I don’t think I’ve ever read the name Jordan on any scoreboards. If pretty is your only trick then get a new one.

Jordan:Like someone like you is any better! Fighting or otherwise I bet I could-

“Lose.” A voice came from around the corner. Everyone turned their head to see Valerie still in her P.E. uniform and a little sweaty.

Her eyes focused on Veronica and immediately she was happy that running made her too tired to fight. That didn’t curve her attitude however, but it looked like that there was more than one annoying problem in this hallway.

Valerie:You’d lose Jordan. To me, to Summer, and most definitely Veronica Belladonna.

Veronica:Way to ruin my fun. I barely meet people stupid enough to be so racist to my face. It’s usually when they think I can’t hear them.

Multiple faces in the crowd looked a little uncomfortable after that statement.

Summer:Finish your laps finally?

Valerie:Hardy har. So, care to explain why not one but two insufferable bitches are causing a scene.

Veronica: “That bitch” you could at least calm me that instead of comparing me to that loser. Also shouldn’t you be showering, or home? You smell like the entire football team.

Valerie:Shouldn’t you be oceans away!? Why-

Veronica:*points to pin* Apparently the great kingdom of Atlas can’t organize events without spreading themselves too thin. I’m catching your slack. Nick is very grateful about it.

That sure ticked Valerie off. Maybe she wasn’t as tired as she thought. Veronica’s face was looking pretty punchable right now.

Valerie:Well good on you, being his little errand girl must make you feel like a winner huh?

Veronica:Keep talking shit and people won’t have to wait for a tournament to see you knocked on your ass.

Jordan:Umm-

“Shut up!” All three said sternly. Clearly Jordan had become nothing more than an afterthought. The crowd didn’t care who fought. Action was all that mattered.

Valerie wasn’t afraid to step up until her and Veronica were centimeters apart. Veronica showed no fear despite being the shorter girl. Giving into the impulse would be so easy right now. So...gratifying. Like an apex humbling what they saw as a beta. Veronica clenched her fist.

“HEY!” Another voice shouted, cutting through all the hostility of the hallway. The crowd split in half to show Eliza. Everyone could see embers and sparks twinkle around the girl, a clear sign she was ready to break up this altercation.

Eliza:Get.To.Class….or do you want to learn the difference between lightning dust and the real deal?

The crowd didn’t need to be told twice and scattered, even Jordan left. Valerie was given a dirty look that made her step away from Veronica while Summer found the nerve to the wall between Eliza and the other two.

Summer:Sorry! Things got out of hand because of me. I-

Eliza:I highly doubt that. Even if it’s true, our Vice President should learn how to keep the peace. And I expect a guest at our school to not cause any agitation in this already aggressive hornets nest.

Valerie:Pfft, she might as well be a baseball bat.

Veronica:I’ll swing a baseball bat upside your-

Eliza:Do you really want to keep arguing in front of me!? I swear if you three weren’t-ugh! Val, hit the showers. Summer if you aren’t going to lunch then I suggest you go over the numbers we need for the tournament.

Summer:I did that already.

Eliza:Yeah well I just went to our room and our guest has been reworking things so I would like our treasure to double check her work. It’s your money after all.

Summer:Alr-

Veronica:Ahem! aren’t you forgetting something?

Summer:...Right, I’ll get on that Eliza. Right after I get lunch, with milk.

Eliza:Ummm okay? As for you Ms. Belladonna… I’ll overlook this but remember Nick will be held somewhat accountable for everything you do. Good and bad, understand?

Veronica:..Crystal. And can you not call me that?

Eliza:As you wish. Now if you excuse me, I have practice to attend to.

As quickly as she showed up, Eliza left and took Valerie with her. Veronica let out a deep breath before turning to see Summer still standing around and looking right at her. All she could manage to do was give an awkward nod before heading to lunch. Obviously she wanted to say something but for some reason decided against it. A wise decision.

Veronica looked at the cuts in her own hands from clenching her fists to tight, her heart still pounding. Man, she really wanted a burger right now. Anything to sink her teeth in.

Part 15

#rwby #rwby twin snowflakes #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #val valkyrie #veronica belladonna #eliza marigold #flynt coal #harriet bree

[disneyplusfan]

Revisiting our first viewing of The Mandalorian S01E01

A look back at our reactions to Season 1 episodes as the new season of The Mandalorian begins.

November 24, 2019

The Mandalorian: Chapter 1 recap by K (includes detailed spoilers)

A Mandalorian bounty hunter tracks a target for a well-paying client.

Directed by Dave Filoni

Written by Jon Favreau

Music by Ludwig Gӧransson

Airdate: Nov 12, 2019

As I write this, I have watched the first three episodes of The Mandalorian three times now. I’m hooked. I did not expect to be. I expected to like it well enough — but not to love it. 

I’m a Star Wars fan for *cough* many years, since childhood. Adore the original trilogy, intrigued yet annoyed by the prequels, less than wow’ed by the final trilogy. I like Rogue One. I also liked Solo, although I get that I’m one of maybe three people in that camp. I have not watched Clone Wars. So this is my frame of reference.

Boba Fett is perhaps my favorite character. He is one of the best characters in the franchise, and I will die on that hill. You know next to nothing about him, and that adds to his mystique. I read Tales of the Bounty Hunters and Tales of Jabba’s Palace back in the day, and “Last Man Standing: The Tale of Boba Fett” and his showdown with Han Solo will always be the quintessential Boba Fett/Mandalorian story for me, canon or not. I was enraged when they changed his voice in the original trilogy to Jango’s (like he couldn’t just be disguising his voice??). 

For me, Boba Fett is the original Mandalorian against whom all others will be measured. I have spoken. 

All this to say, my standards were high. My expectations for The Mandalorian in particular would have been even higher, if I wasn’t somewhat disappointed by the final trilogy of films. And this was the first live action Star Wars television series, so it’s uncharted territory. 

I also managed not to be spoiled at all for this show going in, which was how I like it. Everything came to me fresh as I watched.

From the establishing shot, the cinematography is like the original series movies. Check. You feel immediately immersed in the Star Wars universe. Check. It’s a snowy ice world, like Hoth but greyer and flatter in terrain.

The titular Mandalorian, who is all but certainly not Boba Fett, as he looks a bit different in his armor (and the show is set 5 years or so after Return of the Jedi, which you don’t know yet in the show itself but meaning Boba Fett should be dead by now, or at least dying in the Sarlacc’s belly), looks good. Same imposing figure, same mysterious-yet-badass immediate impression in his imposing armor and weaponry. Can he pull it off? I mean that for the actor as much as the character. I know nothing about which actor is playing him (Pedro Pascal, from Game of Thrones, I learn later). I’ve remained completely unspoiled. 

He’s holding a tracking device. So, also a bounty hunter. Check.

He’s heading for an establishment, a darkened bar, or saloon, or cantina. Inwardly I eyeroll a little. Another cantina?

From inside the bar we see the round spiral blast door opens from the middle outward and the Mandalorian is darkly silhouetted against the icy white exterior landscape. 

Nice, iconic character-establishing shot. I am interested.

Simultaneously, the music starts. A soft, repetitive, lulling theme of eight wind notes vaguely Native American in tone that we will come to know quite well. For now, it adds a touch of mystery and suspense. The lulling, almost hypnotic aspect of the music gives the sense this is all just routine, and the Mandalorian’s short, almost imperceptible shake of the head as an insult is hurled at him seems to add to this effect.

Two patrons of the bar, a couple of aliens, have been roughing up a meek, chubby merman guy, some kind of aquatic creature. He’s a new species so that’s interesting. They are bullies, who threatened to cut off his glands, so the violent type, and it feels like Mos Eisley or worse. Inwardly I eyeroll again because we’ve seen this before in the original Star Wars film, A New Hope. Don’t they have any new ideas? 

The Star Wars universe has at least one entire galaxy to play with. Yes, establish place as the Star Wars universe with familiar things. But within that we don’t need to keep seeing so many of the same things we have seen before. Give us some easter eggs because we’re fans, but give us new things to love, too. It’s a balance, and I personally want more new than repeat. One of my main gripes with the final trilogy is that it’s too much of the same, just with new characters who aren’t fleshed out and developed enough for me to care about them. But that’s another review.

So it’s a cantina, and they want Star Wars fans who are perhaps not as well versed as me (like say, my sister) to be oriented. Fine, I’ll be patient. I don’t doubt a bounty hunter will frequently find himself in such places.

All the patrons’ eyes are on the Mandalorian as he enters and stands at the bar counter. If you haven’t started to feel vaguely Western elements yet, they start to come now. He’s got his back to the rest of the bar, waiting. Almost baiting. The bullies immediately shift focus leaving the merman alone to go pick on him instead. It’s a mistake and everyone knows it. But they must test our hero. And I too, as if just another patron at this cantina, want to see them test him. I’m curious. 

The loud one calls him “Mando!” and we have something of a name to call him for now. But it might be an insult and I’m not quite sure yet. 

They seem interested in his armor — Beskar Steel — and this is something I personally have not heard of before. I’m interested.

A bit of Mandalorian taunting and a quick fight later, one of the bullies who tried to escape the bar is pulled into the blast door entryway as the Mandalorian’s grappling hook yanks him halfway back inside, and closes it, severing him in half. I let out a bitter laugh. It wouldn’t be Star Wars without some bully losing a body part in a bar fight, right? Check. And the Mandalorian proved himself badass, so far. 

He goes over to the merman, who first just tries to thank him, then bribe him with credits and a drink. The stoic, imposing Mandalorian simply places a disc on the table in front of him, and immediately a holographic image pops up showing his face and name in Basic. 

“Is that a bounty puck?” the merman asks. A device that’s new to me, perhaps not to others. Further interested. The weak man tries bargaining some more.

The Mandalorian brings a hand to his blaster and speaks for the first time. 

“I can bring you in hot, or I can bring you in cold.” 

Cut to opening title credits. 

Perfect first line. 

The voice itself doesn’t immediately wow me. It’s not as grizzled as Fett’s, it’s younger and somehow... unseasoned? I’m not sure. But it’s not Jango’s voice, so I’m willing to accept it. And again I think, why couldn’t Boba Fett have kept his original Jeremy Bulloch voice? 

Title credits. Nice font. The drum beat theme music that also sounds vaguely Western. I like it. 

Then we are back outside on the ice world, walking back up the path where we first saw the Mandalorian. He’s got the merman in handcuffs. 

“I need passage, to the yards.”

An Ortollan, a species from the original series, plays a little flute and a land speeder comes up piloted by a droid. 

“No droids.” 

I find it interesting that our Mandalorian would prefer a living creature to a machine as a programmed droid should be more reliable but perhaps machines can be remote controlled, or else there’s a story there that I really want to hear.

The Ortolan plays his flute again and the next speeder comes up, a red one. It's considerably more broken down than the previous one, driven by an older guy in a hooded coat. “Where to?” 

They pull up to a silver-colored ship of some kind, bigger than the Slave IV I think. Kind of clunky, really, more like a C-130 cargo transport than an F-16 fighter jet — not what you’d expect to be necessary for a bounty hunter to make quick getaways. Merman agrees with me. 

“You’re kidding me, right? I’ll hire us a Livery Cruiser. I’ll pay for it. Just trying to make it pleasant.”

The speeder pilot meanwhile is scanning the horizon anxiously and demands payment. The Mando pays him. “I’d stay off the ice if I were you.” Something’s gonna attack, and probably from beneath the ice. Can’t wait.

Merman is worried and watches the speeder depart into the distance as the Mando readies the ship. 

Something launches up from under the ice and consumes the speeder, and a snakelike body with dragon-like spinal plates disappears beneath it again. Merman freaks out and demands they hurry as the ice cracks in their direction. 

The Mando yanks him out of the way just in time for a giant walrus-tusked creature with a long body launches out next to the ship. It catches part of the ship’s landing gear in its mouth as they try to take off and there’s a familiar sound effect like the Falcon losing power. 

The Mandalorian grabs his tuning-fork weapon from outside the cabin doors (where it stays when it’s not on his back) and heads out to fight. The creature has one of the landing gear legs in its mouth as the music swells very tribal. One zap from the tuning fork weapon and the creature is electrified, immediately lets go, and they escape.

The ship is more impressive in air than on the ground as two enormous jets fire. It seems heavy though. I don’t see any weapons except two forward cannons of some kind, but of course there is probably ample hidden weaponry. Can’t wait. 

Once in space the merman starts bargaining and conversing but the Mandalorian is silent, having none of it. 

“I like your ship,” the merman says, now trying to butter him up. “She’s classic. Razor Crest, am I right? Pre-Empire?”

So it’s an older ship. The cockpit, entryway and ramp, halls and hull are quite wide and roomy. It makes sense that a bounty hunter needs room to carry cargo. I suppose some quarry may be quite large depending on species. I’d like to see him have to capture something large. I wonder if he has a larger ship because he’s young, and can’t yet afford something speedier. Or perhaps he loves it, despite being old and possibly rickety, like Han loved the Falcon. It doesn’t look like it’s been through the wars, though, so that’s a mystery. Can’t wait to learn more about the ship. 

Merman goes below on the pretense of having to use the evacuation tube. There’s some funny toilet humor here. There’s no restroom, the evac tube is in the middle of the floor against a wall--kind of like a New York City basement apartment I viewed once. To the right of the evac tube is a wall with what looks like a palette inside -- I guess that’s where the Mandalorian sleeps? It’s hard to tell.

Merman keeps exploring as he talks. Finds a cache of weapons but surprisingly just closes it again. And then he finds the other bounties.

This actually pissed me off on first viewing. The Mandalorian has several other quarry below deck--all encased in carbonite. I did a massive eyeroll here. Boba Fett (really, Vader) encased Han in carbonite as a matter of convenience at the location they were at in Cloud City. It was a test to see if he could transport Luke that way to the Emperor--IF he survived. But it’s NOT like it was the preferred mode of choice for bounty hunters to transport their quarry. So why would this Mandalorian just happen to have not just bounties in carbon freeze on his ship but has a carbon freezing /chamber/ on the ship, as he shoves the merman into it. 

This really annoyed me until a friend suggested maybe the other hunters heard about Fett and Han at Jabba’s Palace and it became a thing once they knew it wouldn’t kill the bounty. After some thought I have accepted this idea, even though it seems quick if this is only set 5 years after Jedi. Still, the other Mandalorians would have been among the first to know, and it’s a more practical mode of transport allowing low risk of escape and not having to address your quarry’s various biological needs. Also easily stackable while protecting them. So okay, I’ve come to accept it. 

Mando arrives at a spaceport in a semi-large desert city, that actually looks a lot like Tatooine--both what we’ve seen from the original trilogy and the prequels. They never actually state where we are at any of these locations, but this is my theory. There’s a droid like Red, there are people walking around dressed like Tatooine inhabitants. More evidence comes later in the series.

He enters another drinking establishment that seems to be the meeting place for his contact. The feel is very much like the bar where Han shot Greedo, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was even the same one years later. Aliens of all types, again, watching him closely.

He meets his contact and returns the fobs. Payment is arranged. The Mandalorian says the Empire is gone, and he accepts Calamari flan at half than Imperial credits at full payment. 

The question of the next job comes up. Guild rates are high. The Mando wants the highest. 5,000 doesn’t cover fuel these days. 

The contact says “Well, there is one job.” No puck. Face to face, direct commission. Pays well. “Underworld?” No codes. The Mandalorian accepts the chip.

More of the city. Goes to a back-alley establishment. Arrives at a door with a  TT-8L/Y7 gatekeeper droid, like at Jabba’s Palace. Inside is a walking garbage-can droid like in the Jawa’s ship. I take this as more evidence we are on Tatooine, though of course these items could be sold throughout the galaxy.

Inside there are four Stormtroopers. An older man with an Imperial pendant who is clearly the leader and client. “Greef Carga said you were coming.” So that’s the Mando’s contact back at the bar. “He said you were the best in the parsec.” Haha, at least we are using parsec correctly now.

A side door opens, which startles the Mandalorian and he draws his tuning fork weapon (a modified amban phase-pulse blaster rifle). The four Stormtroopers draw also. A younger man with glasses comes in, shielding his face, apologizing profusely. The client introduces him as Doctor Pershing. A scientist. The Mandalorian still has weapons drawn in both hands, facing off with the Stormtroopers. “We have you four to one.” “I like those odds,” he responds. “He also said you were expensive. Very expensive.” 

All calms down and the client invites him to sit. He unfolds a block of beskar steel as down payment. He has more upon delivery of the asset -- alive. Proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee. The Doctor protests. 

No puck. Tracking fob, age, and last known positional data only. The quarry is 50 years old. 

“It is good to return the beskar back to the Mandalorians. It is good to restore the natural order of things after so much disarray, don’t you agree?”

The Mandalorian pauses here and almost imperceptibly again cocks his head. He touched a nerve. Amazing how an actor can still convey so much behind a helmet. I still don’t know this actor but he’s pulling it off. 

More of the city. Whatever that laughing thing was at Jabba’s feet, two of his species are roasting on a spit. One more is in a cage. (It’s a Kowakian monkey-lizard like Salacious Crumb. I had to look that up.)

The Mandalorian ducks in behind a curtain. Down some steps. Strings here that sound very Star Wars. A long hall with other Mandalorians about. Some have the helmet antenna like Fett. Some are small, running. Children.

At the end of the hall over the archway is a Mandalorian skull emblem. Within is a person working at a forge, hammering metal and heating it over a ring of open gas flames like Bunsen burners. The blacksmith, which IMDB tells me is Armorer, comes forward and sits down with our Mandalorian. There is fur around the collar, the helmet is different, golden with two small horns, and looks more like a gladiator helmet. From the way she moves, and especially once she speaks, this is a woman. I am intrigued, since I have not seen a female Mandalorian before. They nod respectfully to one another. The Mando produces his payment: the Calamari flan--and then, the bar of Beskar steel, marked with an Imperial insignia at one corner. She is visibly surprised and impressed.

“This was gathered in the Great Purge. It is good it is back with the tribe. A pauldron is in order. Has your signet been revealed?”

“Not yet.” 

“Soon.” 

A pause here to discuss armor. Any show about Mandalorians was going to have certain elements. Ships, weapons, lore, armor. 

Mandalorian armor is famous in the Star Wars universe. Beskar steel, the material it is made of, is strong, and can withstand almost anything, yet very light, rather like mithril in the Lord of the Rings universe. It would seem the Great Purge by the Empire included not just Jedi but Mandalorians, and their armor was melted into bars, as currency or for transport. (This is speculation on my part.) And that a goal of the Mandalorians is to reclaim as much beskar as possible, and reforge it back into Mandalorian armor. 

The blacksmith does just this and makes him a pauldron, or shoulder cover, from the bar of beskar. She tells him this is extremely generous and the excess will sponsor many foundlings.

“That’s good,” he responds. “I was once a foundling.”

“I know.”

A bit more of our hero’s background. 

Her forge is a combination of computerized part designs and heavy iron machinery, like a 3-D printer on steroids. And as it bangs out the new pauldron each loud clang of metal on metal shows us a brief flashback of our Mandalorian’s memories. A battle with fire and sparks all around. A woman in dark red robe carrying a boy also in dark red robe. He is terrified. Presumably this is our hero. She is carrying him, he’s maybe 8-10 years old. A man is with her, her husband? People getting shot--massacred--all around them as they run. Explosions. She opens an underground container of some sort, deposits the boy. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. He reaches for her as the doors close. And then the pauldron is completed; the flashbacks stop.

Having viewed 3 episodes already, this becomes a pattern and I love this device. You get a little more of his backstory with each piece of armor, with each clang of the forge. It’s perfect. It makes sense that in these moments as he waits in this safe place, he might slip into memories. Or perhaps they come unbidden at this time for some reason. There’s also a nice theme of memories being buried beneath his armor, along with his emotions. And only when there’s a chink in the armor, does it show through.

The pauldron goes on, shiny and new, and for the first time I notice the wipes. A center point wipe expanding outward, with fuzzy borders, and so very Star Wars that it makes you smile. 

He heads to another planet that looks from space like Tatooine. If we weren’t on Tatooine before, we might be now. We are at least in the vicinity. It’s a desert planet with jagged sandstone cliffs all around. He lands his shiny ship, and gets out with the fob. He looks through his turning-fork weapon’s scope, and spots two distant creatures I can only describe as land grouper with legs and long tails. Suddenly he is attacked by one, sinking its teeth into his arm before he can get a shot off, and then a second, and though he fights with flamethrower and even fists, it looks like we will lose our hero until someone shoots them with taser darts. 

It appears our hero is not wounded, but his arm pieces are damaged. 

A small man with a piglike face and a kind, wise voice and goggles on his head. An ugnaught. Remember them from the original trilogy? IMDB tells me his name is Kuill, although this is never actually said in the episode, so I will refer to him as the ugnaught. 

I suspect anonymity is a running theme in this show, as part of the Western genre. So far we’ve heard almost no character names (which makes writing reviews a little difficult). I’m wondering if there’s any significance to the ones we do know, vs. the ones we don’t.

“You are a bounty hunter. I will help you. I have spoken.” This last part is his trademark line, as we’ll see. I love it. 

We go to what looks like a wind or moisture farm. There is, from what I can see, only one sun. 

The ugnaught tells the Mandalorian that others have come looking and died. He will show him the way for half of the blurg they caught. Mando will have to learn how to ride them to pass to the compound. 

On the first few attempts the blurg throws him. Apparently it’s a female; the males are all eaten during mating. (Thanks for that tidbit, Kuiil.) He gets thrown again and loses patience, asking for a speeder. 

The ugnaught challenges him. 

“You are a Mandalorian. Your ancestors rode the great mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young blurg.” 

Our hero is challenged; the words touched him. He approaches the blurg like a wild horse that needs breaking in, and the Western theme is back, even in the music. Eventually he succeeds, a triumphant moment that impresses the ugnaught, and they’re off across the landscape full of ravines that only the blurg can jump, apparently. The theme music swells until they arrive at a cliff where they can spy on the encampment. This is where the bounty hunter’s quarry is. 

Mando tries to pay him off. Ugnaught reveals his motive: it’s been an endless stream of warriors trying to get this quarry, breaking the peace. He’s read the stories about Mandalorians and believes ours can make quick work of it and bring peace back to his land. 

Our boy does some recon with a hand telescope and the place is swarming. Then he spots a bounty droid, and groans. The droid is just walking right in, and demands the asset be produced.

The bounty droid looks like IG-88 from The Empire Strikes Back and again, for a moment, I almost eye rolled because really, can’t we see something new? All bounty droids look the same? But whereas IG-88 just stood there, this one moves, and the way he moves is COOL. Although humanoid in appearance like 3PO (head, two arms, two legs), unlike 3PO he appears to operate around a central pole or spine, allowing his parts to rotate 360 degrees. This includes his head, his eyes, his arms and therefore weapons, and his waist/hips. It gives him an amazing advantage as he can just keep spinning and shooting. The way he steps over a body is awesome. He’s also really skinny and thus hard to hit. Whole new respect for the IG series. 

This IG unit is also funny, and his repartee with our Mandalorian is instant comedic chemistry. There’s a fantastic shootout, where they team up, and as they are outnumbered, the bounty droid seeing no way out, keeps trying to self-destruct. “Do not self destruct!” our Mando keeps shouting at him, and after a very badass moment with an [ion machine gun], by the end they win, and everyone in the yard lies dead. Mando helps him up, saying “You’re not so bad for a droid,” and the droid replies likewise. I saw a sidekick in the making. They shoot their way inside, kill a few more people until there’s no one left, and determine the quarry is just before them in the corner. 

Except there is no one there, just a white ball looking thing with a net over it that the fobs indicate is the target. 

They remove the net, and open the ball, which is really more egg-shaped. 

And then it opens, it looks more like a bassinet with a blanket inside. 

“Wait--” says Mando. “They said 50 years old.”

“Species age differently,” replies the IG unit. And we get our first glimpse over the top of the blanket as he says “Perhaps it could live many centuries. Sadly, we’ll never know.” And as he’s speaking, a little head peeks over the blanket.

Oh. My. God. And in this one moment, I am glued to this show forever. 

It’s a baby Yoda. 

Except it isn’t Yoda, because Yoda’s dead. But we don’t know Yoda’s species name, and we don’t know the baby’s given name, so we will call it what the internet has dubbed it in the meantime: Baby Yoda. 

And this moment, above all, is the biggest reason I am so glad I wasn’t spoiled. 

Baby Yoda is the most adorable, most precious, most endearing thing you have ever seen. And in a franchise that has at times been criticized for its more saccharine “cute” creatures that appeal to young children (Ewoks, anyone?), this is one we can all get behind.

Baby Yoda is CUTE. <3

Baby Yoda is everything.

Remember my aversion to anything we’ve seen already? I NO LONGER CARE. Looking at those huge brown eyes and long floppy ears, this doesn’t even cross my mind. 

I would give my life for Baby Yoda. I know this all in one second.

And the IG unit is about to kill it. 

Apparently our Mando feels something similar. 

“Wait,” he says, and reaching out he lowers the IG unit’s weapon. “We’ll bring it in alive.”

“The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.” The IG unit raises his blaster again, aimed squarely at the crib.

The camera closes in on the Mandalorian’s helmet, fixed on the bassinet, and there is a red blaster flash from his right, reflected in the helmet. The Mando’s head never moves. 

But the IG unit falls to the floor, shot in the head. Sizzling. He’s toast. 

Our guy shot him without even looking. He’s fixated on Baby Yoda, as we all are. He puts his own blaster away, and tilts his head.

The camera cuts to a gorgeous profile, backlit from a doorway. The Mandalorian stands before the crib, which is now floating in the air at waist height. He raises a finger towards the crib, as a tiny finger comes up from inside it. They don’t quite meet. 

End credits. 

End credits for this show are a series of beautiful concept drawings and if you know Star Wars at all, these are some stunning art. The whole theme also plays over the end credits and it is hauntingly beautiful. Ludwig Gӧransson’s score is perfect. 

Thoughts.

Themes: Space western. Anonymity. (Even the ship still has no name, just a model.) Foundlings. Characters that seem to have no family, but instead bond in other social ways (covert/religion, bounty hunter guild/profession). Remnants. Loss.  

I LOVE the concept art at the end. Fans love this concept art, and I have a couple of books of it myself. Nice way to incorporate it into the series. You can see how the original concept and final product differ (very little, in most cases) and a few intriguing pieces that were either filmed but cut from the final edit or never filmed. I love how they add the 3-D effect to some of the drawings, and I still don’t know how Hollywood achieves that. 

Concept art round-up: 

Mando and Baby Yoda’s ET moment 

Some intriguing glow-dice game between two Mandalorians? I need to know more about this.

Mando firing a blaster

Mando entering a cantina

Mando and Kuiil on Blurrback

Mando and IG-11 taking cover during battle

Mando and Kuiil entering Kuiil’s home

Mando walking on the icescape with his back facing the camera

Mando battling the ice creature while hanging out of the Razor Crest

Mando and IG-11 standing shoulder to shoulder

Mando on Blurrgback

Taika Waititi is amazing as the IG unit bounty droid. Never would have guessed it was him.

Werner Herzog is perfect as The Client, I love his voice, and the article/video about him crying over Baby Yoda. 

This show is going to get me writing fanfic again, dammit. 

*****

The Mandalorian: Chapter 1 recap by K (includes detailed spoilers)

A Mandalorian bounty hunter tracks a target for a well-paying client.

Directed by Dave Filoni

Written by Jon Favreau

Music by Ludwig Gӧransson Airdate: Nov 12, 2019

Run Time: 40m

Greef Karga (Carl Weathers)

The Client (Werner Herzog)

Dr. Pershing (Omid Abtahi)

Kuiil (Nick Nolte, voice)

IG-11 (Taika Waititi, voice; Rio Hackford, performance artist)

Mythrol (Horatio Sanz)

Alpha Trawler (Tait Fletcher)

Beta Trawler (Ryan Watson)

Quarren Trawler (Dmitrious Bistrevsky)

Armorer (Emily Swallow)

#the mandalorian #the mandalorion season 1 recap #disneyplusfan #tha mandalorion s01e01 #star wars

[imnotrevealingmyname]

For fanfic writer questions: All. Of. Them. Alternatively: 15. 21 and 25

Lmao 😂😂😂😂❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm doing all of them.

1. Phone, on Google docs. My phone is an absolute mess.

2. Fanfiction? About two years ago. Don't ask about original stuff. Oof

3. Loki fics, poems.

4. Both? Both. Both is good.

5. Terrible. Ok I'm kidding, I'd describe it as poetic, in a way? Overly poetic is good, ig. But it's also overly dramatic- something I hate seeing in people. Which makes me a hypocrite, ig. Lmao.

But in all honesty, I'm pretty flexible in my writing. Even while writing poems, I can easily shift from writing about EXTREMELY dark stuff (trust me, you don't wanna know) to something light and fluffy, which is a good thing, I guess? But it also feels a bit suffocating sometimes because I have a habit of reading my stuff from the POV of a reader, once I'm done with writing it. So I try to make it as bearable as possible. People nowadays don't always like intense stuff, and since I'm a freaky gal who started reading Shakespeare in third grade, it becomes difficult for me to give up my very intense style of writing. I probably don't make sense, but, uh. Whatever. Point is, I'm not perfect.

6. Random stuff. Seriously. My cupboard can set me off in a writing frenzy- most of the time,however, I don't even know what inspiration is. I meet her very infrequently- so infrequently that she's very forgettable :')

7. No? Sometimes? A couple of my fics were inspired by songs, I suppose. I also unpublished one, if I remember correctly.

8. The title. Oh god, that always makes me lose sleep. And also, the descriptions. Either I'm overly descriptive, or I end up writing a whole one shot in less than 300 words. Why Am I An Idiom is going to be the name of my autobiography, if I ever write one. (And yes, it's is Idiom. Long story.)

9. I don't really have any fixed place for writing. I've been known to write poems in the bathroom, so

10. Do I have a current WIP? I honestly have no idea what I'm doing with them. All I've been writing lately are one shots.

11. I don't count, but I have over 45 drafts

12. If you're talking about fics, then there's this fic I wrote, called Alien Ardour, a few months ago. I unpublished it due to several reasons, but I honestly love it. Also, I really like my one shots Scandalous and Silenced.

13. Like in total? What's 63+48+9? And it's ongoing.

14. Loki. Duh. And death. I love writing about death :')

15. OCs if it's multichapter, reader insert (NO Y/N, PLEASE, TAKE THAT AS FAR AWAY FROM ME AS POSSIBLE) if it's a one shot.

16. Repetitive question.

17. The Soul Trade. A few chapters were for aesthetics, but ok.

18. Loki. Only Loki. And uh.... Drarry. That's my fricking OTP.

19. @caffiend-queen. I love several other authors but she's always the first to come to my mind when I'm asked this question.

20. No

21. Coffee shop AU 😂 I don't even regret this

22. Idiots to lovers

23. 2 years. Fun fact: my first fic was a Drarry fic. I love it so much that it's still on Wattpad, even though I've not updated it in like a year.

24. Haven't we all?

25. Motivation? Who? What? Okay I'm kidding, I read fanfics. Seriously. Either I reread my own and edit them to sorta get back the feel of writing, or I end up reading a new fic. Smut who?

26. I was eight when I started writing, for heaven's sake. I don't remember.

27. If you're talking about fanfiction, then it's definitely @ohhhmyloki and @latent-thoughts (Tumblr won't let me tag y'all, for some reason). I used to write before I read their works but I quite literally began my journey with smut after reading their fics. And I don't think any of my fics written before that even exist anymore. But if we're talking about writing in general, then it's O Henry and Bernard Shaw. Maybe Gerald Durrell. Did I mention that I love Gerald Durrell?

28. Loki.

29. Idiotic. Messy. Freaky.

30. Um, I don't really wanna say this, but it's Just A Kiss Goodnight. It may be my most 'famous' fic, but it's definitely not the best. For one thing, I wrote it in less than a week, and I haven't edited it. And there's no fucking smut. I'm not saying that smut is necessary to make a fic good, but it doesn't have any intimacy in it. It's definitely not boring, I'll give it that, but it's childish.

31. Wtf is the difference

32. What kinda question is this

33. One shot? Depends. I can be freaky fast and write one in less than fifteen minutes, or I can take literal weeks to finish one.

34. Dude, what's the normal font in android? I have no idea. But one of my favourites is monotype corsiva, when I'm on my laptop.

35. Both.

36. I don't

37. All of my works, oof 😂 well, no. But there's this fic I've written, called Let's Get Drunk Together. And another. It's called Three Isn't A Crowd, After All. Cringy af

38. Smut. Dark poetry.

39. WHY ARE SO MANY QUESTIONS REPEATED? It's idiots to lovers, ffs

40. On Tumblr? Average is 60, I think.

41. Yes

42. Writing.

43. All the time

44. Yes

45. I can be as thirsty and smutty as I want without being judged, bless fanfiction.

46. The "WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO MY HEART WHAT ARE YOU DOING AHHHHHHHHHHHH AND WHY AM I SO AROUSED AT THIS TIME OF ALL TIMES AND WHY IS THIS ANGSTY GIVE ME FLUFF" feeling. Not to brag, but I'm very good at that.

47. I can do anything and everything I want. I can make a unicorn fuck a werewolf and nobody will judge me. Or maybe they will.

48. Yes- Wattpad and Ao3.

49. Google docs, word.

50. Fucking Y/N. Like, not literally fucking Y/N, but uh- I mean, I'd totally fuck my clone? But Y/N isn't me, I hate Y/N. And I hate people who just comment on your fic to promote their own fics. We write for your happiness, please at least do the courtesy of appreciating that and not disrespecting our efforts. Most of us spend nights lying awake to give you stuff to read. And also, people who just comment to say,"Update," two minutes after you've just updated. That's RUDE.

51. High school AU

52. Cock, pussy, salacious, sepulchral, pulchritudinous....... I don't have a one track mind I swear

53. Giggled. FUCKING GIGGLED. I don't understand WHY people have this tendency of writing,"she giggled," and,"he chuckled." I don't know why but GIGGLED sounds like something not EVEN a simpering schoolgirl would do. I don't giggle. Not once have I seen peeps who write GIGGLE associate GIGGLE with men, which is something that I find very disturbing and sexist. Call me biased, go on. But I might not even have been here now because I'm from THAT orthodox and sexist a family, and if they'd been any more sexist, I'd have been killed after birth, so don't even dare to come near me with a ten foot pole if you're sexist.

54. Well, yes, I think. I certainly don't hate it, or I wouldn't write.

Dang, I spent over half an hour writing that. Hope that made even an iota of sense.

[hatari-translations]

Female dancers in Hatari and their role - translation

Sólbjört’s research project for her degree from the Academy of the Arts is a 21-page essay (plus sources) on the role of the female dancers in Hatari, containing reflections on the band, feminism, the concept of the backup dancer, and a very interesting description of the process of planning and staging the May 23rd Gamla bíó concert that I attended! Below, I’ve translated and/or summarized the entire essay. It’s a really cool look into her mind and the thought behind the choreography.

I ended up quoting and translating probably the majority of the essay, but I did summarize some parts that were repeating points already made elsewhere or less interesting or relevant to fans of Hatari specifically. To avoid any confusion, I’ve presented the actual quotes in Tumblr’s quote format:

Quote

Anything not in an indented quote is my summary of the bits that I’m not quoting directly, with possible added commentary, etc.

Female dancers in Hatari and their role

The feminine and empowering woman

Introduction

Sólbjört begins by talking about the role of movements accompanying music - how it's commonly seen to be merely a decoration or a cherry on top, but she believes it often serves a much more important role.

There's nothing more satisfying to me than to experience movement controlled by music, or where the movement is slave to the music and follows it, beat for beat. Therefore, I find it extremely appropriate to use dance and movement on the concert stage, where the music is emphasized. The dance and movement becomes a visual medium that both enhances the experience and elevates the music and lyrics.

I have used my interest in the relationship between music and movement to create choreography for Hatari's songs and stage it on the concert stage. This is a study of the role of the female dancers in Hatari, and how lipstick feminism, a subcategory of the third wave of feminism, is used to support underlining the importance of the strong, feminine woman who moves on the concert stage. The primary emphasis is on showing the audience this strong woman who is both empowering and full of feminine qualities, without being accused of being submissive.

Hatari

Sólbjört talks about Hatari, "an anticapitalistic performance art band that nonetheless defines itself as a multimedia project". She explains the band as consisting of Matthías, Klemens and Einar but that this core of people works with many others who serve many different roles in creating the project. She explicitly delineates Klemens as the composer, Matthías as the lyricist and Einar as mixing and arranging the music as well as playing the drums.

Hatari decided to make a change in 2017, when they got the idea of adding dancers to their live shows. They offered me the role before their gig at [music festival] Sónar at the beginning of 2017. Erna Gunnarsdóttir and I got together and started to consider the choreographic possibilities for the music. Some of the possibilities that we saw at the beginning of this process were obvious. Hatari's music belongs to the industrial electronic music (IEM) genre. IEM developed from a mixture of electronic body music (EBM) and industrial music around 1985. EBM has a simplistic structure and production but IEM is more complex and layered. Hatari's music is rhythmic and asks the listener to dance on the very first listen. [...]

Now, in 2019, there are three dancers, two female dancers and one male dancer. The band has had two female dancers ever since adding dancers in early 2017, but the male dancer was added for Söngvakeppnin in 2019. At first, the band wore considerably different costumes from what they do today. The dancers were clad in black overalls or worksuits decorated with reflective tape. The boys were dressed in jackets and accessories, in many ways evoking fascistic World War II military outfits. Now, as is well known, Hatari's costumes in some ways resemble costumes used by the BDSM subculture: leather/vinyl/spandex suits, leather straps, spikes, chokers, etc.

Hatari's lyrics are in Icelandic. The lyrics are characterized by blunt, sharp social satire, anticapitalistic messaging and elucidation of the scam that is everyday life. The Hatari boys' subject matter is less than lighthearted and includes death, the overthrow of human capitalist society, cosumerism and the pretentiousness of existence, doomsday, fake news reports, political undertones, statements that contradict each other and more along those lines. These subjects have followed the band from the start. Everyday life is a relentless scam, say the boys, and they seek to unravel it in their work.

She quotes the first two verses of Spillingardans as an example.

These lyrics are highly relevant to the spirit of the times. Western life has turned into a dance of corruption that everyone takes part in, consciously or not. Corruption is visible everywhere we go, and wherever we look, people take part in overconsumption and in that way feed into capitalism and keep it aloft. People are possessed by avarice and hedonism, which drives modern society.

Hatari is a performance art band known for satire and societal criticism of all kinds. Much of what Hatari does is either performance art, lies, satire, an unconventional presentation of a message, or an aesthetic toeing the line between appealing and unsettling. The band critiques everyday life for what it is, a relentless scam, where image is bought and sold, and the boys create a deluge of news media, misinformation and forgeries.

Backup dancers

Sólbjört draws up an image of how backup dancers are everywhere, performing in sold-out musicals, on the biggest TV shows and on tour with the most popular musicians in the world, but go largely unnoticed and are paid pennies.

But there is nuance to the term 'backup dancer'. Backup dancers come in all shapes and sizes: male, female, nonbinary; short, tall; and so on. There are backup dancers whose sole role is to dance and are 'just' dancers, dancers who only follow the instructions of the choreographer or artist. Other backup dancers serve other roles, such as the role of choreographer. There are backup dancers who are so-called dance captains and have the role of maintaining the coherence of the choreography, which was originally the role of the choreographer, both creating and practicing it.

She points out the role of Beyoncé's dance captain and co-dance captain, Ashley Everett and Kimmie Gee, who have to perfect the choreography for every show and dance and sing and rapidly change costumes throughout the show just like Beyoncé herself.

To be a backup dancer is to be a dancer, actor, singer, model, athlete and more. It takes incredible tenacity to stay in this business and perform your role as well as possible. You have to know everything, and know it well. These dancers are usually subordinate to some other person, and are often not named at all, as with Beyoncé's dancers who are on contract during tours but have to find work elsewhere when the tour is over. These dancers are artists, even though their name isn't at the top of the poster in the biggest font.

She argues that the term backup dancer is dismissive and prefers the term supporting dancer, because their role isn't just to be a backup but to provide vital support for the performance as a whole, and finally posits that supporting dancers play a huge role in the art world, and dance is increasingly used as a visual artistic medium, with Hatari being no exception.

Lipstick feminism and the third wave of feminism

She begins this section by talking about feminism's long history and how it means different things to different people, but most women experience discrimination based on their gender and being criticized for the way they dress, for being too attractive, for not being attractive enough, etc.

The third wave of feminism began in 1990 and is still underway. Lipstick feminism seeks to celebrate the traditional concepts and qualities of femininity, including the sexual empowerment of women, alongside feminist ideas. Unlike previous campaigns and movements within feminism aimed at fighting for the fundamental rights of women, lipstick feminism aims to affirm that women can be feminists without denying or rejecting femininity, that women can for example speak openly about sexuality and sex without being called sluts. This particular feminist believes, very literally, that one can wear lipstick and still call oneself a feminist, because feminism is about so much more than what individual people look like and whether they wear makeup or not. Some feminists have criticized this brand of feminism as they believe that it's contradictory to talk openly about woman as a sexual being while advocating for women's equality. These people sometimes even seek to make women like men and eschew everything feminine, believing that it's impossible to be feminine and have power at the same time. Some women (hopefully most) find it empowering to to celebrate their existence as sexual beings and want to retain their femininity. They believe that honest discussion about these issues is very important, and that the cause is necessary to all kinds of feminism. It's not enough to free a woman from the oppression of the patriarchy; she also has to be able to be proud of being a woman, with her feminine qualities. One of the primary goals of this type of feminism, I feel, is to reclaim words that have been used to denigrate women, such as 'slut'. Some believe that these feminists are simply reenacting old-fashioned ideas about women and their sexuality, and that by talking bluntly about women as sexual beings, they are objectifying the female body in a negative way. Other women believe that by owning their own sexuality and celebrating femininity, whether it's wearing makeup or pole-dancing, women become stronger and more powerful.

The biggest criticism of this type of feminism is that it's difficult to criticize the objectification of the female body, such as advertisements obviously selling sex in the form of women's bodies in print, while some women sexualize their own bodies.

Owning your own sexuality

Sexy isn't the same thing as sexy. What I think the word sexy conveys is to be comfortable with oneself in one's own skin. For many it's about something sexual, but it depends heavily on how the person thinks, their experiences, religion, and other factors. I believe the word sexy means very different things in different cultures and religions.

The choreography of the female dancers in Hatari is not written to serve sexual ends. We are not trying to be as sexy as possible by performing our choreography. Different viewers have to make up their own minds on whether or not they consider us sexy. There is a lot to read into in the choreography: we are women, white and blonde, of child-rearing age, in tight vinyl suits, on heels, in straps, with contacts that cover our eyes completely. For some people women are automatically sexy, and some have particular opinions on the woman and what is and isn't sexy. For still more people, all of these elements make the woman on stage even sexier. The woman checks boxes and is marked with a certain stamp based on people's societally influenced opinions. But this is simply the opinion of individual people, and not a fact about the choreography or about us as the dancers.

Why is it so sensitive, taboo and sometimes negative to be sexy? Why is it sometimes forbidden? Are we offending people by by being the way we are? Can't we be sexy when we dance because we're women? Does that automatically make us sluts? Can't we just do it, because women have fought for the general rights of women, including the right to own themselves? Don't we own our own sexuality? Can't we be sexy because we could provoke sexual longings and thoughts in the more privileged sex, men? Are we automatically selling ourselves and opening our bodies up to scrutiny simply by being feminine? Simply by being women?

She quotes the Urban Dictionary definition of sexy, which focuses on the effect sexiness has on others, to drive the point home: someone or something which is sexually attractive, causes a stirring of sexual feelings and/or thoughts in others, is arousing. people can be described as sexy due to their physical appearance, behaviour, personality and other stuff.

The role of female dancers in Hatari

Sólbjört talks about how the rhythmic music of Hatari makes it appropriate to employ dance and movement in its live shows. She notes that the female dancers have been referred to as backup dancers in the foreign media, which, again, she feels is a negative portrayal. She quotes another Urban Dictionary definition: Backup Dancer: A person who isn't important. A person who hides in the shadow of someone else. A copycat.

I would not call the female dancers of Hatari backup dancers, even though they do usually dance behind (but also in front of) the main members of the band. That opinion comes from myself, one of the female dancers, and reflects how I feel when I stand on stage with Hatari, and my experience and self-image both as a dancer and as a Hatari dancer. In the development of the female dancers of Hatari, it was important to us that the woman on stage was strong and empowering, secure in herself, her sexuality and her femininity. The female dancer on the stage is not there simply for decoration.

Sólbjört goes on to quote a widely-shared newspaper article from Stundin from February 23rd 2019, shortly before Hatari's victory in the Söngvakeppnin final. This article, by dance critic and playwright Nína Hjálmarsdóttir, accused Hatari of being problematic in various ways: that their intention to protest the treatment of Palestine in Eurovision was a kind of white saviour complex, that the costumes evoked fascism and white supremacy, that they're appropriating BDSM culture (a prominent figure in the Icelandic BDSM society responded to this article pointing out that for the record the entire BDSM society adored Hatari and that they use their symbols respectfully and beautifully), and positing that "I had a hard time ignoring when they later added two female dancers to the stage, whose only role was as decoration to intensify the experience. The boys had taken on the appearance of power, while the women were shown as submissive, robotic and voiceless." It's clear that this last contention especially raised Sólbjört's hackles. She quotes an interview from news site Vísir where she responded to this accusation:

On the other hand, Sólbjört strongly disagrees that she is submissive, voiceless or decorative in her art. The presence of the female dancers in the act is strong and blunt, as it always has been in the staging of Hatari's concerts. She says that there is a great contrast between the costumes that makes the combination of music and visuals an interesting experience for the audience. The staging raises questions and can mean a lot of different things.

She then adds:

[...] I am of the opinion that the female dancers are not submissive or voiceless, though sometimes we are robotic, as seen by our movements. Nína calls us submissive in a negative sense in her article, and to publicly call a woman submissive and voiceless is in my opinion always an insult towards her. I am clearly biased, being one of the female dancers and a choreographer for the band, but the intention of the choreography and staging is not and never has been either submissive or voiceless. [...]

She talks about how movements can say a lot more than can ever be put into words, how Hatari places a rich emphasis on the visuals and uses the dance as part of the narrative, and how movements can either be in harmony with the music or clashing with it. She is fascinated by the relationship between music and movement. She's very conscious of her role as a female dancer and choreographer, but she is neither submissive nor voiceless and she is not decoration, and this is reflected in the choreography that she has created with other dancers. Although the dancers are playing characters or alter egos, those alter egos do reflect their real selves, and she feels that the characters as staged "radiate an incredibly strong yet feminine energy" that's empowering.

The word ['submissive'] in no way describes what the female dancers of Hatari do on stage. The dancer is not submissive to either Matthías or Klemens, even if the dancer doesn't play the primary role on the stage. And yet - each person should judge for themselves. The female dancers are incredibly empowering in their choreography and have a high status on the stage.

She points to the bit of the choreography for "Hatrið mun sigra" where Ástrós and Sólbjört hold Klemens' arms as he bows his head forward and raise him up.

The movements and the stage presence

Along with Erna Gunnarsdóttir, I began to develop the movement vocabulary for Hatari in early 2017. We worked with robotic and sharp movements, inspired by Beyoncé's choreography as well as the typical hand movements that backup dancers and singers have employed in Eurovision and at concerts in general. The choreography is in constant development, and over time we've included more and more feminine and empowering movements. It has always been clear to me what fits into the choreography and what doesn't, but the greatest inspiration for movements is the music itself and the feelings that it evokes in me. The movements were and are usually on beat with the music and have the ability to spice up and enhance the experience of the music. It's a kind of cycle; I don't think that it needs to be clear whether the music or the dance has the upper hand. After all, it's up to the audience to resolve the ambiguity and judge which is dominant.

The movement vocabulary includes a lot of standstill moves, as there is often limited room for large movements on the stages of many concert venues. The dance numbers are characterized by static, blunt, sharp movements, choreographed steps around the available space and large, prominent but minimalistic hand movements. We frequently work with poses, which we like to repeat and juxtapose with choreographed steps on the stage.

The presence on stage and intent of the dancer influences how the movement affects the audience. The presence and intent have to change in order for the movement to look different. If the dancer's character and intent on the stage for example go for submissiveness, that's what the movement will look like. The intent of the female dancers cooperating with Hatari has never been to paint the woman as submissive or voiceless, but to grant her the freedom to retain her feminine qualities and her sexiness while being empowering.

Contradictions in staging

There are contradictions underlying many aspects of the staging of Hatari's concerts. For one thing, there is a certain disparity between the costumes and movements. As one example, the costumes to some extent reference BDSM attire, as previously stated. The movements don't have a literal sexual motivation, but some of them are feminine, likely because they're performed by female bodies. The costumes are feminine and sexy, while some of the movements are simple steps, backwards or forwards, which are not exactly feminine or sexy movements. On the stage, therefore, there is a confluence of many factors, music, costumes, movements and so on, which evokes an emotional reaction in the audience that might be (for example) feminine, sexy, empowering, submissive, etc.

She points out that in the "Hatrið mun sigra" staging at Söngvakeppnin, the movements are not very sexy but are juxtaposed with costumes that she and many others would consider feminine and sexy.

The staging should provoke a lot of questions, and can mean a lot of different things. Hatari's staging contains nuances and opposites, and it in itself can always have infinite different meanings to the audience, whether we consider the lyrics or not. Klemens sings in a beautiful, high voice and is submissive to Matthías, who screams his lyrics. Einar is a drum gimp who never gets to speak, as he's dressed in a spiky mask. The female dancers are empowered women. The third dancer, Andrean, who is male, is the submissive one, which was a conscious decision for everyone in Hatari. If we consider the opposites and nuances of the staging of Hatrið mun sigra, there are several. Andrean represents the repressed soul of Matthías, and is like his dog on a leash. The drum gimp is stuck up on a platform, drumming to the rhythm of the song. Klemens is submissive to Matthías, but the female dancers are there to support him, singing and dancing with him, simultaneously empowering and feminine.

Hatrið mun sigra - Hatari's homecoming concert, May 23rd 2019

I, along with Ástrós and Andrean, continued to develop a choreography for Hatari's songs for the Gamla bíó concert. Some of the songs' choreography remained intact, other songs were altered completely, and new songs and thus new choreography were added. The first half of the rehearsal process went into teaching Ástrós the choreography and getting her into the movement vocabulary that I have used. The choreography is very sharp and rhythmic and the two female dancers should be completely in sync. We practiced old choreography, altered and improved and created new choreography. In April, we showed our instructor a near-complete choreography for the homecoming concert. It was interesting to receive critiques and comments on what I'd been doing from professional dancers, rather than devoted fans of Hatari. For example, we discussed whether it would be interesting to try to make the two female dancers' movements subtly different, even if it's only the position of one hip that's not quite the same. We also discussed the possibility of spicing up the choreography and adding in small details, such as changes to the rhythm and deviation from movements that follow the music beat for beat. In this process, I was firm in my opinion that in this context, it looks best if the female dancers are completely in sync and completely identical, that the choreography is either the same or mirrored down the middle of the stage. My dream would be to work on a performance art piece in collaboration with Hatari, where I would be willing to consider the discussed changes and spicing up, as there the audience is better able to focus on the visuals.

The concert began with an intro where the dancers and the drum gimp were in the foreground. I think it's an appropriate opener for a concert like this to not start with a traditional song, as it straddles the line between concert and performance art. After that came a few songs without the female dancers, until the start of the song Spillingardans, around the middle of the concert, at which point the female dancers came back in and remained on stage until the end of the concert. I think it's important to have a buildup over the course of the concert, so that you don't have dancers for every single song. I believe this because I feel this way the movements carry more weight and get more attention when they are present. The choreography for the song Klefi/Samed (Hatari x Bashar Murad) was created a few hours before the concert, as the song came out just after the concert. That was a real challenge, and we did not manage to be totally in sync on stage and had to improvise a bit.

It's always a challenge to get on the concert stage only a few days before the concert, more often than not on the day of, and place the movements in that space. In this case, we came in the day before the concert to check out the stage. Once we were up on the stage, we had a certain choreography ready and it was time to plan out exactly where on stage it would be best to place the dancers, for each song. For us, the female dancers, our positioning was at the edge of the stage on the left and right. Ástrós and I were on either side of center stage, which was where Andrean was when all of us were on stage. When Andrean was the only dancer on stage, he could use the entire stage. He used both planned improvisation and scripted movements. His character on the stage was developed and discussed by every member of the band, but his choreography is mostly carved out by himself very late in the rehearsal process, so I will not discuss it further. Andrean is the total opposite of the female dancers. He has created a character on the stage that is the most submissive of everyone there, while the female dancers have a very high status. The audience experiences Andrean's soft and submissive movements as a contrast to the blunt and often robotic movements of the female dancers.

We managed to do pretty much one quick rehearsal/sound check for the concert. In my work with Hatari, we've never managed to do more than that before a concert. It has been extremely educational to develop choreography for concerts, but I've also found that music people are a lot less organized than dancers and have different priorities, which is to some extent understandable since their expertise is in music. To me it's very important to be able to at least step onto the stage before the concert and feel the size and volume of the stage, but sometimes all we get is a half-hour sound check that's only good for going over a maximum of two or three songs. This summer, we'll go on stage for a few music festivals and will probably not even get a sound check. This time we had more time than we've had before on the stage, but that was because this was a concert dedicated to Hatari, rather than Hatari playing at a music festival where many bands need to do a sound check on the same day. This Hatari concert was the most complex one yet; for example we had a 20-person choir, a solo singer and a pianist, where choreographed stage entrances and exits are necessary. On the stage, which is not big, there was an extensive set, with a great effort put into setting up the lighting and screens for the visuals, and there wasn't a lot of room for the movements of three dancers. Personally, I would have liked to have one more rehearsal to perfect the staging, but I think it went very well, considering.

As for the technical aspects, we decided that we the dancers would not be wearing earpieces, but rather would use the onstage speakers to hear the music. In retrospect, earpieces would have worked better, as the cheering of the audience sometimes drowned out the music to the point it was hard to hear the rhythm in a few spots during the concert. There was a lot of cheering, and it's always incredibly rewarding to dance at a concert where the audience really gives the energy back.

Conclusion

Throughout this research and rehearsal process, I've found it's very important to me that the female dancers of Hatari are not interpreted as submissive and voiceless women. The process has given me confirmation of the awareness I've always had of the staging of the female dancers in Hatari, which I've occasionally doubted, especially when I receive negative commentary on the choreography. The research and the work with Hatari has made me a more confident choreographer than before, and it has taught me to stand by my own creative decisions.

I have tried and will continue to try to the best of my ability to communicate this empowering and feminine woman with movements alongside music on stage. Femininity is strong and beautiful, and it's very important not to sideline it just to avoid being accused of submissiveness. You can be a feminine feminist who celebrates sexuality. I could try to describe and analyze further the reaction that I'm trying to evoke on stage through movement, but in the end every viewer has to judge for themselves. When it comes to us, the female dancers, I try, as I've stated repeatedly, to give us an empowering role and evoke strong emotions in the audience about the woman who is dancing. The role of the female dancers in Hatari is important, and it's about being a visual medium intensifying and enhancing the concert experience.

#hatari #hatrið mun sigra #sólbjört sigurðardóttir #translation

[eternaleve]

Watching A Broken Frame music videos for the first time!

Carrying on with my Depeche Mode video rewatch project with the vids for A Broken Frame (first post is found here https://eternaleve.tumblr.com/post/624649762286780416/ive-spent-the-course-of-covid-lockdown-cycling)

I looked through my vinyl and found I did not steal my mother’s Depeche Mode singles from this album (I only stole all her Elvis Costello and Joy Division and a bunch of Japan singles which I suspect she snuck to me in hopes of making me like them) but they are all mysteriously gone. My abusive stepdad recently moved out and I have thoughts about what property he took, but this just seems petty. 

Anyway, let’s talk about A Broken Frame! Vince Clarke left the band to go and be the Paul McCartney of 80s electronic music, forming Yazoo and Erasure. Apparently he did not like success and touring and stuff, which is far because it’s a lot of pressure, so he’s out and Alan Wilder is in after responding to an ad in Melody Maker. Remember music journalism? He joined as a tour keyboardist and appears in the videos for the album, but didn’t contribute to the album.

 A Broken Frame was released eleven months after Speak & Spell, which doesn’t seem to be enough time to me for a band to create another whole album's worth of material. It just seems that a band spends a few years perfecting their sound and a selection of songs, and then a record label says, ‘Great! Now do the same thing, but in a much shorter timeframe, under much more stress, and in snatched moments between being shuttled from gig venue to gig venue!’. I understand there’s a ~hype train~ that music acts have to follow, because bands can slip out of notice so fricking quickly, but the pressure does not seem set up to maintain the mental and emotional well-being of people. I’m sure nothing like that will happen in the history of this bad though!

This album cover is considered one of the world’s greatest photographs for a reason. It’s stark and beautiful and has echoes of socialist realism and is just a really striking image. I don’t know who has final say over art direction in the band but whoever does has a great eye for images. The picture is taken over by Duxford and as I’m from the Midlands I have been to Duxford on a hundred school trips (it has a big air centre with WW2 planes and things and bits of the Berlin Wall), so I’ve probably been past this field an uncountable number of times without even realising it.

See You (Jan 1982, No 6 UK charts)

I like how it looks like fuzzy felt. It feels very, very different from the singles art from the last album, I guess to indicate a clear difference in direction? Maybe? This is the first single for the band written by Martin Gore and starting his reign as songwriter.

All the music videos for this album were directed by Julien Temple and are Not Liked by the band. I generally quite like Julien Temple’s work and watched a lot of it as a teen (stepdad being hugely into the Pistols), so I am intrigued to say the least how these will turn out to be.

This does give me a bit of a nostalgia kick for an old-fashioned style train station. It’s pretty much what my home station used to look like before everything was privatised, bought out by Virgin, turned bright red and full of commuters. I like how the station sparks to the beat of the music and that someone okayed an actual spending budget for this time around.

YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THE STATION THE PHOTOBOOTH IS HAUNTED

Not going to lie, this looks 100% like my Dad’s first ever passport photo. I like the addition of the bowtie. It adds a real ‘First Communion’ vibe to the whole look. The nose stud… well, I had a nose stud at the exact same period of my life. Same age too, I think, only mine stayed around a lot longer when it definitely should not have done.

It was at that moment he knew he had made a grave mistake in confronting the ‘Telephone Box Killer’ on his own.

Insert a standard ‘Original Selfie’ joke here. The use of the photobooth gives a cute little through line in the video, as well as giving other band members a chance to be present. I remember using photobooths to take fun photos, before they started costing so much goddamned money and put them only in the most inconvenient places. I still have a bunch that I keep in my purse.

… And now everyone’s working an office job? To show the passage of time? Or because it’s now a bit with music, so we’re showing the use of keyboards through office equipment that sort of requires you to make similar hand movements?

Something, something, statement about technology? The photobooth theme was fine! It was cute! It said something about the regret and passage of time from teen to young adult romance! Why are there now a lot of calculators?

Just in case you forgot - the single’s out now. Wink, wink.

But let’s go back and check in with our corporate overlords. Bob, how are you doing on the spyware floor?

… is this Julien Temple? Is it a music video within a music video? Did he put himself in the video? Could this part not have been done by a member of the band? Like, y’know, that new one who was clearly added in partly through this video?

I like the main core storyline of the video - thinking about a past relationship and then happening to run into them again unexpectedly - but I can see why this is perhaps not well thought of. Next one!

The Meaning of Love (April 82, No 12 UK charts)

This reminds me a lot of the cover for the first Adrian Mole book which was published the same year. It does not match the first single at all or the album, but I guess the album art was yet to be done? Or maybe two different departments handled them, because I would have gone with a different single cover if I knew that one of the greatest photographs of all time was in the wings for the album.

Reader, my heart dropped. I knew we were in for some deeply 80s bullshit. And, like, not good 80s bullshit.

This is the lounge act in the cruiseship of my nightmares

Martin Gore there looking like 99% of the lesbians on the DIY punk scene.

What the fuck is going on?

What, and I must reiterate, the fuck is going on? Are those pies? Pie eyes? Pie eye glasses? What does it mean?

Now’s not the time for your science homework, it’s time to film a music video.

Great, I know what image will be repeating in my night terrors tonight. Martin Gore’s face earnestly singing at me from the depths of a paramecium.

THIS JUST GETS WORSE AND WORSE. THERE IS NO SITUATION ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET MADE BETTER WITH PUPPETS.

No, my night paralysis nightmare will be Dave Gahan’s face turning into a fucking pie over and over and over again.

Oh, I see, the Meaning of Love is that your wife will turn into a bitter harpy that won’t let you live your dream and also your life is ruined because she keeps letting the puppets sleep in the bed.

I guess the video has a sort of XTC vibe? It does remind me of the video of ‘Making Plans for Nigel’, which I do like, but also this video is fucking awful should be seen to be believed. I liked the band’s awkward choreography which was four men showing how much they did not want to be doing any of this.

Leave In Silence (August 82, No 18)

The font is nice. That’s about all there is to say for this. It doesn’t match the other two singles. I’m not saying everything has to be matchy-matchy, but it is nice to have visual similarity and consistency. This looks like the record label gave up on trying.

Okay, so we’ve got the album art sorted and starting out with a - I guess you could call it ‘low rural farming vocalisation’, and neither of these two things match the other singles or music videos, which have had a very poppy, teen girl, Smash Hits vibe. 

This week on The Generation Game, you could win a stainless steel bowl, a cuddly toy, and the lead singer of Depeche Mode!

This video started with a group of people vocalising while pouring out grain and looking very plaguecore, now we’re all playing around on a conveyor belt because I think Julien Temple has run out of ideas and is being artsy and surreal and weird to cover that up.

Ladies and gentleman, I’m sad to say that ‘The Fanciest Little Cowboy’ competition will not be running this year due to a lack of other contestants. This is a very fancy Little Cowboy though.

…. I…. what? 

I have seen many bad, bad, bad cursed images in my time, but this is going straight up to the top. What the fuck does this say about the song? The band? The image the record label is trying to project? This pointless weird imagery for the sake of being pointless and weird.

It’s okay, Jess. Bright Red Martin Gore can’t really hurt you. Only haunt you.

And now spacehoppers. Because of course spacehoppers!

The players from Pathologic show up to make a cameo appearance, matching nothing in the video, and seeming wildly out of place with everything else. Pick a theme or story, Julien! It is EITHER the Generation Game OR a terrifying children’s show OR guttural Soviet inspired plaguecore. You can pick one! Not all of them!

The Blue Man Group really had a rough start. The wheat is… just there. Because I guess Julien Temple couldn’t think of how to organically weave it an advertisement for the album. So there’s just a bundle of wheat for no good reason.

By this point, same, mate. That is the only reaction I am having.

These videos were… not great. I think ‘See You’ is the best and most cohesive - it tells a cute little story that ties in with the themes of the song and provides an emotional resonance. And then things just go off the bloody chain a bit. They get weird and experimental in a way that does not work in selling the band or the song. They seem pretty disconnected from what a music video should be and Julien Temple seemed to just run out of ideas by ‘Leave In Silence’. C- Mr Temple, must try harder.

And then onto Construction Time Again! ... well, when I get round to it. In a few days maybe.

#depeche mode #a broken frame #i'm making myself laugh at least #see you #leave in silence #the meaning of love

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Episode 2: Rebecca...She’s back, I guess?

So I got hella sick this week so it’s...just one update this weekend. The rest of the next update has the caps done but then the copy I was putting together got very distracted about which Founding Father was the hottest and I think that was the Dayquil? I barely know what day of the week it is rn. I think it’s Saturday, is it Saturday?

Anyway, we’re battling that Monocle guy. Gurimo? Yeah his name is Gurimo. I honestly can’t remember him saying his name even once, so thanks Google for the help.

It’s a new season so not only did we suck all the power out of God Cards but now you can’t use them anymore with the new glowing green mechanic. The writers really did just...a lot to make it so God Cards are no longer relevant. Like they buried them so far.

This guy repeats himself quite a lot about being soul hungry? Yeah I watched all of Sailor Moon so like, I’m super up to date on my soul energy anime. I’ve walked this path before I know it well.

(read more under the cut)

Such a shame we can’t read those stats which may just be Hebrew letters in lorem ipsum (note that when Pegasus makes you a card, you don’t get to have stats) but it’s nice to know that, if you wanted to, you could play Rex and Weevil in universe of the show and something would happen.

Anyway, Gurimo lost, his eyes went all glowy red at some point, and decided to go out throwing stuff because it’s Yugioh and you have to throw cards at least 3 times a season, its in the contract.

Don’t think about physics guys, just trust that cards can do this on a roof where there’s no wind for some reason.

And then he went up in a green ball of glory. It was nice of the green beam of soul energy to wait until the impossible card toss was over.

Lol this show and how it just kills people on screen just...all the time. All the freakin time. Can’t show a gun, but murder as many people as you like. It’s OK, his soul is in a paper card so he’s not *really* dead. That won’t terrify children under the age of 10.

So Pharaoh decides to do the tactic of telling a bunch of motorcycle gang edgy kids (adults? not sure about those three) that stealing is Wrong.

They also, youknow, are implicit in murdering Rex and Weevil but youknow, stealing is wrong and the God Cards don’t belong to them and Pharaoh is shook that these kids won’t keep their end of their bargain that whoever wins the card fight keeps the cards.

So basically Gurimo died for freakin nothing.

Welcome back to the fold, Rex and Weevil, apparently this show isn’t done with you yet. I was pretty much done with both of you 3 seasons ago but alas, you will be back, with your raspy as hell voice acting, at the beginning of S5. I am sure of it.

(PS I just noticed I spelled resurrect wrong and I know I should go back into photoshop but like...I’m too sick to care at this moment so maybe I’ll change it in the next week or so I dunno, I’m just gonna post this thing so I can feel like I did something productive today.)

And so these kids decide the police are never going to freakin show up to the rooftop brawl where a guy super died and several children were endangered and a huge beam of light you can see from space went out like a bat signal to the rest of the city of “ps, something bad is happening over here, if any of you adults feel like helping out these four high school drop outs? Nobody?”

First, they decide to keep this horrible thing:

(which second thought is not SO surprising, because Yugi clearly loves hoarding dead people)

And then this other horrible thing:

Why would you keep these? Why would you do this?

I mean Yugi’s got such specific dark tastes that I wouldn’t be half surprised if his closet is filled with dozens and dozens of rat skulls he collected from the subway station.

And then the next day, Yugi decided to just like watch Joey and Tristan dangle Rex and Weevil like puppets. It just seemed super unnecessary.

Like Yugi isn’t even Pharaoh right now but he’s absolutely fine with these guys getting shook around. Yugi is all sorts of gray area in this show and I’m glad that’s never changed although sometimes it’s like “Is Yugi slowly turning into a mob boss? Because I’m down, but also somewhat concerned?”

Anyway, the God Cards aren’t even here anymore so we say farewell to Rex and Weevil who seem just as confused at how the hell you can steal a God Card as we are.

*not entirely sure where Rex and Weevil are from. I’ve been assuming the UK or the US but like...maybe they live here? I don’t even know.

And then Chibiusa--I mean Rebecca showed up.

Ah, remember this plot point from S1? What if she shows up and (according to Bro) Just never leaves?

I’m coming to terms with this. Anyway, Rebecca’s only purpose seems to be as a part of a (love????) triangle (square????) between Yugi and Tea but like...

And maybe this is the Dayquil speaking but...

Is this even weird?

Seriously, they’re family friends, why is this weird? Maybe it’s because one of Rebecca’s core traits is that she’s American and I’m also an American so I don’t even see a problem with Rebecca and how she acts (since she’s a freakin child with a crush on a card-famous person) but like what small child see her friend she hasn’t seen in 2 years and is not going to hug him?

Anyway, Yugi was the worst to not remember this chick. Maybe his brain looks like a box of loose packing peanuts (I say as a metaphor remembering that his brain literally looks like an Escher painting screensaver), but he can’t remember this chick from just 2 years ago that he gave his rarest card to? The chick who’s grandfather had that blue-eyes he gave to Yugi’s Grandfather? The chick who’s grandfather helped his grandfather get that necklace around Yugi’s neck? The necklace he wears every single day and is super cursed by?

How do you forget the Hawkins when they are part of the reason everyone thinks you’re losing your mind?

But I guess she looks older now and got a pair of glasses (bifocals????). She No longer has her hair in pigtails but, I dunno, she looks basically the same to me since she’s still about the same size as Yugi but wtv.

And then Yugioh was like “Listen everyone, we’re very tired of all of your angry reviews, and I see y’all are saying we never do romance, well get ready, we know how to do romance really well, get ready for it, we can make things move faster than a snail in wet cement, just watch.”

Because somehow, after Yugi was the biggest asshole ever to Rebeca, I guess she figured like “well, at least you’re still card famous”

You know what? I have several girlfriends who I am not dating, but, if it’s been a couple weeks since they’ve seen me last, will give me a huge as drunk hug on my arm and go “MY LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND MARRY ME” and like...Again I’m American so maybe this is just my culture here in California?

I’d like to believe that Rebecca is just messing with these people because she can.

Ps I’m pretty sure this girl was 6 last time we saw her but they decided...we better age her up if it’s gonna be a romance but they only made her 12. OK show. Yugi’s pushing 17 at this point so like...barely even logical. I’d say legal but I’m thinking more of just logic at this point because the last time we saw this girl she was holding a teddy bear (which we can guarantee is probably still shoved into her luggage)

...OK, show...

Now listen listen listen. All ships are fine here. I’m not gonna go after shipping because like, c’mon, it’s 2019. If you stan Rebecca and Yugi, go for it, why not? I’ve said it before, and my feelings haven’t really changed, I’m immune to shipping, so I feel absolutely no different with Rebecca and Yugi than I do with Tea and Yugi. I think Tea makes more sense, but that’s not saying very much because literally anyone else on this cast who isn’t related to him could probably work. Go ahead and bring back Mako Tsunami. There’d be a fun pair.

Bro got very excited when I mentioned a MakoxYugi pairing just now ps.

But it really does feel like this ship has the dynamic of the Usagi/Chibiusa/Mamaru ship from Sailor Moon where Usagi was always jealous of small little Chibiusa spending time with Mamaru who was her OWN DAD. Why would you EVER be jealous of a 12 year old girl hanging with your boy...friend? Tea is a 17ish year old ballerina who never, ever wears full pants. She’d have this in the bag if she ever decided to like...do anything with...this. And I don’t blame Tea for never doing anything with “this” because like...look at “this.”

I just don’t think the writing team knows how to write a competent love triangle (square) but...this exists now. They even had Rebecca decide to dress nearly identically to Tea as a demonstration of her devotion but like...it honestly comes off more that this small child just admires Tea. Because she’s 12.

Yugi is just babysitting this girl for his Grandfather and it feels like the writing team just had to have the girls be all catty at eachother. Because it’s a kids show. Gotta have those girls all catty. Can’t let them be friends.

Anyway, back at this museum that these kids visit so freakin often, you’d think they’d change their home address, we meet up with the granddads in question.

Ah, now Ishizu is no longer with us, Exposition Grandpa is here to take the torch. Can’t wait for that.

And I made his font gray because I freakin give up. Grandpa Hawkins might change his font color every episode. I...I’m figuring it out.

And then, every helicopter in Domino shed a single tear.

Wow. I’ve been so mad for so many seasons that they never use a freakin seaplane to cross the ocean that when they actually do I’m like...kind of disappointed?

I mean it’s not shaped like a dragon, but I will take this perfectly acceptable seaplane.

I can’t believe they drew a normal ass plane. on this show.

*Waits patiently for it to turn into a blimp next episode*

Anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to read all the caps in chrono order. There’s over 3 seasons of this. Y’all I’ve done over 100 episodes.

#Yugioh #Ygo #episode recap #photo recap #Yugi Muto #Rebecca Hawkins #Tea Gardner #Joey Wheeler #Gurimo #The biker guys I think one is called valon or something #tristan taylor #grandpa muto #grandpa hawkins #so I found out only the first 5 tags are searchable so I don't know why Im bothering writing so many tags other than it's fun #S4 #Ep2

[pugoata]

Day 7 - Growing Old Together/Future

Nora was huge.

Blake could see Yang’s look of mild alarm, and squeezed her hand. But even her size couldn’t stop Nora. She took one look at them, squealed excitedly, and bustled over, and Blake had the vague impression that she and Yang were only pins to this red-headed bowling ball.

“It’s been so long!” Nora exclaimed, throwing her arms around both of them at once, her belly sliding between them as if the gap had been made for it. “I never see you anymore!”

“It is harder now that you haven’t been able to go on missions,” Blake replied, shooting Yang a smile. “We’ve been keeping up with your pictures, though.”

Nora laughed. “Well, I haven’t had much else to do other than take pictures. I’m thinking I should just quit huntressing altogether and just become a food photographer or something.”

As she talked, her hand moved to her stomach, settling there with idle protectiveness. New habits popped up with pregnancy, and that slight movement was familiar enough to Nora to be one of them. Yang’s eyes lingered on her hand just a bit too long, the gaze soft, and her hand twitched, though only Blake noticed that subtle shift. Before anyone else could, she snapped her attention back to Nora’s face with a relaxed smile.

“I somehow doubt that. You’re not good at sitting still.”

“And the pregnancy definitely hasn’t changed that,” Ren said with a sigh, coming up to them. “Good to see you.”

“Congratulations, dad,” Yang said, lightly punching his arm. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“Well, technically, it was Weiss who did that,” he corrected, gesturing with his head to where Weiss stood amid a gaggle of their friends. “She organized this whole thing.”

“She would,” Yang replied, amused. The formality of the invitations alone had led them to thinking that Weiss had played some role in the baby shower; the foil font, the embossing, all screamed Weiss. If it had been Nora’s doing, Blake figured there probably would have been more colors and more confetti. “She’s always loved anything that had to do with babies.”

“Ugh, well, once he’s born, she’s welcome to him. I’ve had enough of the heartburn.” Nora made a face, then leaned in. “And my tits feel like they’re gonna explode.”

Unexpectedly, Blake laughed, and though Yang smiled drolly, she didn’t join in. Again, Blake squeezed her hand.

“Well, I gotta make the rounds. We’ll catch up in a bit, okay?” Nora grinned at them, gave them one more belly-bumping hug, and marched off, a pronounced waddle in her step.

“Rounds,” Yang snorted, watching Nora go straight to the snacks. “Well, some things don’t change.”

“She woke me up in the middle of the night last week to make her a fruit salad,” Ren replied with a sigh. “And then she cried because there were blueberries in it.”

At this, Yang did laugh. “Other than that, everything’s going well?” Blake asked.

“The doctor says it’s a textbook pregnancy,” he replied, and a small smile curled on his lips. “But we’re both ready for him to come out. Nora’s just about had enough with being pregnant.”

“I could see that,” Blake murmured.

“So, you’re ready?” Yang repeated, almost skeptical. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“Probably not.” Ren laughed. “I don’t think we could ever be as ready as we’d want to be. But the love’s ready, and that’s the most important part. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

“You make it sound easy.” Blake’s words were light, but a touch dry. Yang, sensitive to her tones, looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, it can’t be any harder than taking down an evil, immortal queen.” Ren chuckled at his own joke. “It hasn’t been easy, and it’s only going to get harder once the baby’s here, but it’s not really different than fighting on a team. We’ll work together and we’ll flourish, just like we’ve always done.”

Ren’s words were so calm, so confident, that Blake couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease. He’d always been the sensible one, and he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean. It was steadying, in a way, even though he didn’t know it.

“Oh, we brought this.” Blake held up the gift bag, decorated with pastel animals. “Where should we put it?”

“Oh, thank you. Weiss has a table set up for gifts, but I can take it there. I need to greet a few more people, anyway.” He smiled again as he took the bag. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Yang gave him one more light punch on the arm. “Dad.”

After he set off down the hall, Blake and Yang moved across the living room, hand in hand. Most of the people here were ones they recognized; Ruby, Weiss, Jaune and his date, Oscar, and, outside by the pool, the entirety of Team CFVY. Other huntsmen, too, more acquaintances than friends to Blake and Yang, milled around, making smalltalk. For not having any blood family, Nora and Ren had filled their house with family of their own making.

“I hope Weiss isn’t going to make us do any of those stupid baby shower games,” Blake commented as she dug around in a tub of drinks and ice. She grabbed a cider for herself. “Want anything to drink?”

“Just a water. Thanks, babe.” She took it, though she didn’t uncap it yet. She scanned the crowd, looking for other people she recognized. “Oh, hey, Saph! Gods, Adrian, how old are you now?”

Blake sat back, letting Yang take the reins on the conversations. Even now, Yang could carry on like nothing was different. She still spoke just as naturally with others, still laughed in the same way. Really, it had only when she’d spoken to Nora that Blake had seen some of her anxiety poke through. While they had talked, Yang had lifted a hand inward, making as if to touch her own stomach in the comfortable way Nora had done. Just as quickly, Yang’s hand had settled back by her side, nothing different.

As Yang talked, Blake put together a small plate of crackers, deli meats, and the blander cheeses. Anything smellier than cheddar was bound to make Yang’s stomach roil, and they wouldn’t risk that at the party. Blake gave a regretful look to the wedge of Roquefort cheese before making her way back to Yang.

“Hungry?” she asked Yang, holding up the plate.

“You know it!” With a final nod to the Cotta-Arcs, they wove their way through the other guests, making their way outside. “God, I’m hungry.”

“And we just ate lunch.”

“So?” Yang plopped herself onto a chair by the patio table, giving a brief wave to Coco and the others before zeroing in on her food. “Well, at least I’ve got a reason for it. Ruby has no excuse. Did you see her shoving that whole cupcake in her mouth? She’s gonna choke.”

Blake took the chair beside her, content to watch as Yang piled cheese and pepperoni on one of the crackers. She was one to talk about choking, she thought, amused, as Yang popped the whole thing in her mouth.

“So? Is it weird for you?” Yang asked when she’d finished chewing. Already, she was making up another cracker.

“For?”

Yang looked over her shoulder at Team CFVY and lowered her voice. “You sounded a little nervous when we were talking to Ren.”

“Oh.” Blake shrugged. “Well… I don’t know. You know how I am.”

Smiling, Yang nodded and bit into her cracker. She chewed it thoughtfully, then swallowed. “It’s all right to be nervous. Hell, seeing Nora like that makes me nervous. Am I gonna be that big?”

“You could be twice that size and still be beautiful,” Blake teased, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Seriously.”

“You have to say that ‘cause we’re married.” Yang laughed. “But, still. It looks uncomfortable, and she’s still got another month. I can’t even imagine--”

“You were the one who wanted to carry,” Blake pointed out.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing. I’m not changing my mind or anything.”

“Good, since you can’t.”

With a wicked grin, Yang placed a daring palm against her abdomen, finally giving in to that tempting touch. Her back was to Team CFVY, so nobody else was there to question her. Still, Blake looked around worriedly. Someone else’s baby shower would be a bad time to announce their own pregnancy, and it was still early enough that they didn’t want to publicize the news yet.

“So?” Yang asked softly. “In a few months, we’ll be having a baby shower of our own.”

“And Weiss will be begging to emboss the invitations.”

At this, Yang laughed, loud enough to draw the attention of Team CFVY. Fortunately, she’d taken her hand off her stomach, and when Coco looked at them over her shades, there was only amusement, not suspicion.

“Something funny, Xiao Long?” Coco called.

“Oh, we’re just laughing at Weiss’s expense again.” Yang waved her hand dismissively. Coco rolled her eyes and pushed her sunglasses back up.

“Just like every other day.”

Yang snorted at this, then turned back to her food. Blake nabbed a cracker and nibbled on it. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the music and the chatter of the party inside comfortably dull. She knew they’d have to go in at some point, to face Ruby and Weiss and deal with whatever party games they were forced to play, but for now, they could enjoy the peace and sunshine. For just these few minutes, it was only them.

“Yang?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we’re ready?”

Yang’s brows quirked at the question as she swallowed her last bite of crackers. “Well,” she said slowly, “I don’t think we would’ve gone through it if we weren’t.”

Despite her anxiety, Blake smiled. “Oh, I know. It’s just… Seeing them, in there… it’s different. Like... it wasn’t real before. But seeing them… I’m starting to see it now.”

“I know what you mean.” Yang’s smile was gentle. “It’s easy to envision it one way, but seeing it in person really makes you nervous about it. I mean, when Nora said that thing about her boobs--”

Blake laughed, which Yang had seemed to be going for. Her smile brightened. “But like Ren was saying… we’re a team. And as a team, we can handle whatever life throws at us. Even if our baby acts like a little Ursa sometimes, it’s something I know we can manage. Even on our hardest days, there’ll always be love. That’ll get us through.”

“Yeah.” Blake’s mouth had gone dry, but she leaned in anyway, brushing a kiss against Yang’s lips. “There’ll always be love.”

With a quick glance at CFVY, Blake slipped a hand onto Yang’s stomach. For now, her abs were still tight and sculpted. There was no sign of life underneath them, though she knew that would change. They’d listened to the heartbeat at their first appointment, that strange new sound that would soon bring a different kind of purpose to their lives.

For the brief time they’d been able to hear it, Blake could almost see the future. With the sound of that heartbeat in her ears, she could envision Yang months from now, sweaty and exhausted, bringing their child into the world. She could imagine holding this child-- their child-- in their arms, rocking them to sleep, reading them books, watching them grow...

But for now, Yang’s stomach kept the truth hidden. For now, their baby was little more than a new thought. For now, it was a secret for them alone.

“We should probably go in,” Blake finally said, dragging her hand away from that growing life. “Be good guests, or whatever.”

“So overrated,” Yang said, with a sigh, pushing her chair back. “At least we can take notes of what we don’t want Weiss to do, right?”

“Right.” Blake laughed. Yang gave her another kiss, then led her back into the house, and they readied themselves against the excitement and bubbly happiness that the baby shower would bring. Soon, that same happiness would be theirs. Still holding her hand, Yang looked back at her, her smile open and bright.

Scratch that.

It already was.

#rwby #rwby fic #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumbleby week #bmblbweek

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: New Life, short 2--Date

Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow. A series of oneshots set after Beyond this Existence.

Current short:  Now that things have settled down, Demyx asks Ienzo on their first date. However, the past crops up unbidden.

Read it on FF.net/on Ao3

----

The iron was not electric; when Demyx took it off of the stove, it was red-hot, and the handle bit his fingers. He shook out the pain, and let it cool. He hadn’t ever had anything that was nice enough to warrant ironing. He laid the linen onto the ironing board and did his best to get rid of the stubborn wrinkles. Despite himself, and the time that had passed since then, he thought of the days and years of black coats. He shivered a little.

He pulled on the ironed shirt and did up the buttons. Nervousness fizzed in his stomach. This shouldn’t be stressful, and yet it was. Demyx knew he was being silly and probably psyching himself out. In front of the slightly warped mirror in his bedroom, he fussed with his hair. Without the gel, it didn’t quite lay right, even as it got longer. The brown strands still looked odd to him. Like he was slightly someone else. And for the most part, he was.

Don’t think about that too hard.

Demyx bit his lip. He looked about as good as he possibly could, all things considering. He knew from their texts that morning where Ienzo was; as always, in the library. Ienzo lived his life in such a regimented way; if the routine was not shaken, he would do the same thing each day tirelessly. He was working hard, and the memorial project meant so much to him.

Still. He needed a break sometimes.

Demyx had walked these hallways dozens, if not hundreds, of times. Aeleus had started to paint, and the blueness was piercing after the green. It was sign of change, if anything. Change was necessary. Change was unsettling.

Ienzo was sitting in a patch of sunlight, curled slightly like a cat on his chair, taking rapid-fire notes.

“Hey,” Demyx said softly.

He glanced up slowly. The light made his hair glow. Demyx wasn’t quite used to the new reading glasses, but he did think they were very attractive. “Don’t you look nice,” Ienzo said. He gave him a sly once-over. “Have you had that shirt long?”

The compliment threw him. “It’s new,” he said lamely.

Ienzo got up and approached him. He straightened the collar a little. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well I was hoping…” He bit his lip. Nerves made him blush. “I was wondering if you might like do go on a date with me.”

Ienzo’s hands dropped down to his waist. He didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“I mean, we’ve already been together a few months. I figure it’s about time, you know? Isn’t this what people normally do?”

He paused. After a moment, he smiled. “I would love that,” Ienzo said finally. “Though admittedly--I don’t know what that means.”

“I was thinking… that we could get some dinner out. Maybe go for a walk. Spend some time together, outside of here.” He touched his face. “Simple. Right?”

He nodded. “Simple,” he mouthed.

“So what do you say? Are you feeling hungry?”

He chuckled. “I could eat. Though I wonder… if perhaps my outfit is not up to snuff.”

Demyx stroked the soft material of his black turtleneck. “You always look good.”

“You might be a touch biased. I need to at least take care of this mess.” He tugged at his bangs.

He smiled. “Then I’ll meet you downstairs in like twenty minutes?”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t like anybody pull you away.”

He kissed him. “I’ll try my best.”

Demyx waited down by the service entrance, drumming his fingers idly on the rusty metal sheeting. It was a lovely early summer day, neither too warm nor too cool. After the long winter the world was finally feeling alive again.

“Getting some fresh air?” Ansem’s voice startled him. Demyx didn’t think he could ever recall seeing Ansem actually outside the castle. He was carrying a couple of bundles, his red stole slightly askew.

“Sort of,” Demyx said. “I’m waiting for Ienzo. We’re going out.”

Ansem appraised him a little. “That should be enjoyable,” he said at last, a touch awkwardly.

“I hope so.”

Ansem hesitated, shifting the bag at his shoulder a little. “Well, I won’t hold you,” he said. “Enjoy your time together.”

Demyx watched him walk away. Clearly Ansem had more to say, though what, and why, he wasn’t sure. Anyway, this really was none of his business.

Ienzo caught up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Everything alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah.” He smiled quickly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The whole long walk into town, Ienzo chatted happily about the research he was doing. “I’m studying forms of bereavement and memorialization--specifically concerning the religions and spirituality of this world, but also of others. It’s not as depressing as you might think. I’m hoping to take the most resonant of these ceremonies and symbols and applying them to this project. This is only the early stage, but it feels worthwhile.” There was a spark in his eye that Demyx had not seen in some time, a life. He was reminded of why he fell in love with him in the first place.

“I almost feel bad taking you away,” Demyx said.

Ienzo tucked a loose piece of hair behind his left ear. “All this focus on death makes me a tad too aware of my own mortality,” he said, with a grimace. “It is nice to get out and live for once.”

“So what would you like to do?”

He cocked his head slightly. “I thought you had planned something.”

“I mean, I did, but if there’s something else you’d rather do more--”

Ienzo squeezed his hand. “There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I know that,” he said. A blush rose in his cheeks. “But this is kind of just another thing that feels weird that shouldn’t.”

“It does,” Ienzo admitted. “But not in a bad way, right? Like learning anything, it merely takes some practice.”

“I guess so,” he said lamely.

He took Ienzo to one of the only sit-down restaurants in town. It was a small, hole-in-the-wall type place, lined with odd, eclectic tables and chairs. The walls were paneled wood, well-oiled and dark, and the lighting was bright and warm. Someone brought them menus and water. The sight of it made him smile a little. “I’d heard of this place,” Ienzo said. “It was popular when I was a boy. I didn’t realize it had opened back up.”

“I know. I saw a photo of it on Kingstagram.”

““Kingstagram?”” Ienzo asked. “You mean the photo program?”

“That’s what the others are calling it,” Demyx said. “I don’t know. It’s kind of easier to say than the name you gave it.”

“I didn’t intend for it to be for mass use,” he said. “Ah, well. Another thing to work on, right? I’m wondering if these gummiphones might be even more useful than we thought. They could potentially have so many different applications. Imagine how much easier things could’ve been in the past.”

“It probably would have enabled me to be even lazier,” Demyx said lightly. “So you might not want to go too crazy.”

“I suppose you’re right. But there really are so few models in circulation--a dozen or so in Twilight Town, ours, the committee’s, and the guardians’. Too many more and it could threaten world order. And I’m not sure we’re equipped to deal with something like that right now--literally or figuratively.” He sighed. He thought about this for a few moments, then opened his menu. “I wonder what I should try.”

“Whatever you want. Hell, get extra and we can bring some back for everyone else.”

“...Perhaps,” he said dazedly, skimming the menu with a sort of fervor.

Demyx looked down at the print too. The font made him a little dizzy, and for a second the text seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He blinked hard. Was reminded of the runes. When had he learned how to read this language, anyway? He couldn’t recall, and he found himself unable to decide what to eat.

The waiter came back. Demyx just repeated the same order as Ienzo.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually eaten at a restaurant before,” Ienzo said. “How’s that for odd?”

“Really? Ansem never took you and the guys out?”

Ienzo shook his head. “He might have, but I think he figured it might have been a little overwhelming for me. Especially if it were crowded. They sometimes brought me food from such places, but I never got to go myself. Now that I’m actually trying all these new things, more than ever I feel like that same scared child.”

“Like you’re only playing grown up.”

“Yes--that’s exactly it.”

“I feel that way too,” Demyx said. “I never got to make my own choices. And the few times I did, they weren’t exactly good ones.” He laughed a little.

“You seem more than able to handle such moral quandaries now.”

“I guess so.”

An appetizer was brought out. Steamed dumplings, fresh and perfectly round. It tasted delicious. “I shall have to tell the others about this,” Ienzo said. “It tastes just like I remember. Sensory memory is quite intense.”

“Maybe all of us should go out some time.”

“Maybe. That would be nice.”

The actual meal was a brisket pho with bone broth and rice noodles. Everything was very good, almost too good, and he wondered if was weird to cry over soup. He blinked the tears back, cursing his newfound tenderheartedness. “I should like to learn to make noodles by hand,” Ienzo said. “I’ve heard it’s simple.”

“Do that, and you’d basically be godly.”

He chuckled. “Not quite.” He sipped at the broth for a moment. Then, rather more soberly, “Have you thought about your future?”

Demyx furrowed his brows. “...Like?”

“Like…” He stumbled over his words for a moment. “Demyx, are you happy?”

“Weird question for you to ask,” Demyx said evasively.

“Well, humor me, then.”

He looked down at the smooth wooden chopsticks, the tiny fish carved into the top. “I’m still… shit’s still hard,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if it’s depression, or trauma, or the general weirdness of being alive, but I… I’m unsettled.” He forced himself to look into Ienzo’s eyes. “But I… I love you, if that’s what you were asking. I don’t see that changing any time soon.”

It was Ienzo’s turn to drop his gaze. “I… I also feel very much committed to you. And very much unsettled. I’m so used to there being a plan. An end goal, a forward momentum to life. There’s a reason my moniker was “Cloaked Schemer.” And yes, I have projects, and people to love and bond with, but the overall directive of my life? I don’t know. ” His lips twitched, a small, nervous smile.

“Maybe your “directive” is to find that out. To pick how you want to live. For yourself.”

“I do not like that.” He wrinkled his nose.

“For the record, I’m scared too. I’m not used to things mattering ,” Demyx said. “When I was a kid there was a sense of futility with the war. And then when I was a Nobody I was so uncaring about everything except for myself, and sometimes even then. Now--”

“You’ve learned empathy.”

That threw him. “Have I?”

Ienzo smirked. “You’re training to be a healer, because you want to stop other people from hurting. If that’s not empathy, I don’t know what is.”

“I just want to do something worthwhile.”

“As do I.” He sighed. “Perhaps we must wait and think about our opportunities. Demyx, I’m discovering I’m not a very patient person.”

He smiled. “Well, we’ve done our fair share of waiting, I’d say.” He caught sight of the bar in the corner. “Hey, do you want a drink?”

“I don’t see why not. Nothing too strong, though. It is still early.”

Demyx stood. “I bet you haven’t even been drunk before. That I’d like to see.”

He shrugged. “That’s a story for another time.”

He kissed him once and crossed back to the bar. A few other patrons were there, having their meals and talking and just generally being normal. Demyx had the sudden, icky sensation of watching people like this was a recon mission, even though he was one of them. He shuddered a little.

The backsplash of the bar was odd--clear tile with light shining through, producing an eerie pinkish glow. Was that--he squinted through the rows of bottles. It wasn’t tile at all.

The bartender noticed his gaze. “Cool, right?” she said. “They found it among the ruins. It’s amazing that it didn’t shatter after all it had been through.” She pushed some things around so he could get a better look at it. “It’s super old. The glass is all melty at the bottom, if you look at it closely.”

The shapes, the colors--he tensed.

“We’re not sure what it means, or who made it, but that’s where the place gets its name. The Fox.”

The memory wound its fingers around his throat. Not just the emblem, but the person behind it. Never her face--she always kept it covered--but the color, the bright pale pink, brought back the sound of her voice--

-- fly away to the world outside--

“You alright, buddy?” the bartender asked.

Demyx mumbled something indistinct. Somewhat on autopilot, he turned and left the space. There wasn’t enough air. Even when he got outside he couldn’t breathe. The flashes of memory grew brighter, more painful. Why had she chosen him? Why had she let all this happen? Wasn’t she supposed to protect them, and their memory? Why had she betrayed --?

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jerked. Through glassy, watery vision he saw Ienzo. “Demyx,” he said softly. “You’re alright. We’re safe. Take a deep breath.”

His lungs felt like they had petrified. Ienzo gently guided him over to a nearby bench and started rubbing his back.

“It’s just a memory,” he continued in that soothing voice. “It can’t hurt you anymore.”

His pulse was still racing. The back of his throat felt raw. Demyx set his head in his hands. Eventually, he could breathe again, though he was still a trembling wreck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This was supposed to be fun, and I--”

“It’s alright,” Ienzo said sternly. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy--cold--”

“Maybe we should go home.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to go inside.”

“Alright,” he said. He took Demyx’s hand. “We can stay here as long as you like.”

“I thought I was okay. I really--”

“This isn’t a linear process.”

“I don’t know how it got there.”

“What?”

“That mosaic.”

Ienzo glanced briefly back into the restaurant. “At the bar?”

“It was her mask, Ienzo. I’m sure of it.”

“...Whose?”

“Master Ava’s.” Saying it felt like he was casting a curse. He shuddered.

“...The Dandelion leader?” Ienzo frowned. “That is rather odd… but you do realize that if that was before the World fractured into pieces, it’s not entirely unusual for bits of the past to wash up all over, so to speak.” He sighed. “But I’m sure that doesn’t make you feel better.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was jagged and broken.

“You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He wrapped his arms around him. Demyx couldn’t help but give into the comfort. “I am… uncomfortably aware of these aberrations of memory.”

“PTSD bros for life,” Demyx muttered.

Ienzo chuckled. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to him. The cloth was soft against his eyes. “Would you like to go for a walk?  Get your mind off it?”

He nodded. The sunlight was warm and insistent, shaking the chill of the panic. As always, he was unsettled. His new and old selves brushed up against one another painfully. A complicated dance. Ienzo stood to his left. Though Demyx couldn’t see it through the hair, he was sure Ienzo was watching him warily.

“A lovely day,” he said casually. “It’s nice to get some fresh air.”

“Ienzo?”

He turned his head slightly.

“Do you also feel a disconnect with your past?”

Ienzo hesitated. “I suppose the word should be “dissonance”. But for me… and this may sound strange… things are a touch fuzzier than they once were.” He smiled, but it was an odd expression. “My memories used to have an intense, painful clarity to them, with a few exceptions. I think this has something to do with my power. But now that I no longer have it, it is no longer so clear-cut. My memory now is… merely above-average. So, I suppose in a sense, that dullness makes it hard to believe that person is me.” They walked another hundred or so meters. “But our cases are completely different. For a good deal of your life, and at a crucial point in your development, you had nothing. You had to form a whole new concept of self just to be functional. Basically, it’s like comparing apples to oranges.”

“It’s like my skin doesn’t fit.”

“Yes. How do you feel about this new self of yours?” There was something of a playful seriousness to his tone.

“He’s alright, I guess. You?”

Ienzo blinked, his expression smoothing, becoming neutral. “The jury’s out on that one.”  

“Ienzo--”

“I am working hard to see the good in myself. But you must understand that this is a complex rationalization of years of unrepentant mistakes and lies.” He nodded slightly, as though to himself.

“Well, like you said. Morality isn’t simple.”

“...No.”

His hand, in Demyx’s, was cool and dry. Demyx liked how their hands always fit together just right.

“If you could choose,” Ienzo said suddenly, “To go back to the way things were, would you?”

He actually stopped in his tracks for a moment. “What kind of question is that?”

“Mere curiosity,” he stuttered, turning a bit pink. “I wonder… how things would have turned out, otherwise. It’s a sort of masochistic thought experiment. Forget I asked. It was tactless.”

Demyx shook his head slightly. “How far back do you mean? Before the first Organization? Or before the second?”

“...The fact that we have to distinguish,” he said with a sigh.

“But neither of us got to choose. That’s kind of how this all started.” His mind was spinning. To go back to being Demyx Number Nine, with all the absolute garbage and bullshittery that entailed, made him feel physically sick. “No. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” The implications of it were jarring. “That means… we probably wouldn’t…” He bit his lip.

“I could not either,” he admitted. “For longer than I’d like to admit, I entertained that fantasy, in the first horrible days after I was recompleted. Everything was just so very overwhelming otherwise. To pretend I could not feel, that I was who I used to be, was all too tempting. Especially as I lay there recovering, unable to speak because I was still healing…” His free hand unconsciously brushed against his throat. “To go back to hurting people, and allowing myself to be manipulated… that thought is still more jarring.”

“We can choose now. Like you said. Agency, right?”

“Yes.”

They stopped for a moment to rest. This close to the castle, Demyx could see the spread of the town below. He hadn’t ever been in one place so long--at least, not in his adult life. Strange to think that this would likely be his home for the foreseeable future. He couldn’t wrap his head around permanence.

Ienzo slid an arm around his waist and leaned into him. “What are you thinking of now?”

“Stability. How weird of an idea it is.”

“I suppose it is if you had no prior concept of it. Accepting that has been difficult for me as well.” He touched his chest. “Learning to trust. To be vulnerable. To speak about and think about emotion.” He wrinkled his nose. “Strange. But necessary.” Ienzo looked up at Demyx and lightly drew his fingers against his cheek. “I do love you. I feel as though you sometimes need a reminder.”

Demyx kissed him softly. It was nearly opposite of their first kiss; long and slow and without fear. They stayed there for a moment, forehead against forehead.

“Shall we… shall we head back?” Ienzo asked.

“I’d like that.”

#beyond this existence: new life #demyx #ienzo #zemyx #demyx/ienzo #beyond this existence

[carmenlire]

Hi! I don't know when/how you take prompts but i would love if you wrote about malec having a misunderstanding (not necessarily fighting) and how they communicate and understand each other's point of view, only if you want and like the idea of course. Thank you 💛

Hi dear!! I’m always taking prompts– it might take a little while for me to write them but my inbox is always open if you ever wanna stop by and leave one just like you did! I loved this idea and I hope you enjoy this! Thank YOU for the wonderful request!!!

read on ao3

“Darling, what do you think– Royal or Navy?”

Alec looks up from his book and sees two near identical shades of blue. Magnus is holding the swatches of fabric with an expectant look on his face and Alec inwardly winces. He bites his lip, eyes moving between the two but he doesn’t want to say anything– he doesn’t want to say anything wrong.

“They both look good, babe. It’s up to you,” he defers.

He looks back down at his book, missing the way that Magnus’s face falls. His eyes don’t track the lines of text, though. Instead, he’s busy thinking about why Magnus had asked him such a question.

They were getting married in three months. Magnus had said yes to his stumbling proposal last month and now the two of them were going to exchange vows as the leaves turned and the air grew chilly.

Alec was more excited than words could say. There were times, when he stopped and thought this is my life now, and it felt like this feeling rising in him was too much for a physical body to contain. Sometimes he looked over at Magnus and his heart swelled fit to burst.

His life was so different now than it’d been five years ago. More difficult than he could’ve ever imagined but infinitely more rewarding. He woke up beside Magnus every morning and went to bed knowing he was safe and loved and cared for by his best friend.

Magnus had started asking him leading questions about his preferences over the past few weeks. Magnus wanted his opinion on colors and menus and flavors of cake. There were decisions to be made about flowers and locations and guest lists. It was enough to make Alec dizzy and he didn’t know how Magnus was handling it all and his high warlock responsibilities without a hitch in his step.

While Alec appreciated that Magnus took the time to check in with him about the wedding, he didn’t understand it. In shadowhunter culture, the man asked and if the woman accepted then she and her other women friends and family members planned the thing. The man was expected to show up and draw the wedded union rune as neatly as possible.

While Alec scoffed at the heteronormative roles his society dreamt up on a regular basis, he couldn’t quite shake this one, no matter that he was marrying a man. While he’d been in perpetual and suffocating turmoil during his brief engagement to Lydia, she’d handled all the details like a veteran general. Alec’s opinions had been neither needed nor asked for and he hadn’t seen any issue with that.

Especially since when he’d thought of that wedding, it was like a vise was choking the soul out of him.

This time around, Alec was happy. He was happier than he ever thought possible. But, he still hesitated and ultimately declined to tell Magnus anything. He wasn’t as sophisticated as Magnus. It wasn’t sad; it was just the way things were. This was Magnus’s first– and if Alec had anything to say about it, only– wedding and he wanted him to have the day of his dreams. He didn’t need to feel pressured to accommodate Alec’s preferences or requests when he was just full of joy to show up and claim the love of his life for the rest of his days.

Hell, they could marry in a field of chickens during a thunderstorm and Alec would be content, so long as by the end of things they both had their wedding bands glinting in the golden autumn light.

Alec startles out of his reverie, imagining a dozen different wedding scenarios, as the book is snatched out of his hand and tossed carelessly to the floor. Alec is just about to exclaim that it was one of Magnus’s books from the eighteenth century when the man in question slides into his lap, wrapping his arms around Alec’s shoulders and playing with the hair at his nape.

His glamour is down like it always is when it’s just the two of them in their space and Alec gets lost for a minute as he watches the last rays of the evening play over Magnus’s face.

It only takes a minute, though, for him to realize that something is wrong. While Magnus seems as comfortable as ever straddling Alec, there’s a line of tension running through him that Alec can’t help but notice.

He lays his hands on Magnus’s hips, pulling him just a touch closer and Magnus smiles, faintly.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Arching a brow, Magnus sniffs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you wanted to marry me at all, Alexander. You’re the most opinionated man I’ve ever met and you don’t care about anything to do with this wedding–”

“I proposed,” Alec splutters, brain going a million miles an hour as he takes in Magnus’s words. What the fuck is he talking about? Alec is confused as he sees the flash of hurt and disappointment in Magnus’s eyes.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Yes, you proposed. You asked me to marry you in the most adorable you way possible and then it’s like you stopped caring! I ask what colors you prefer for the scheme and you shrug. I prompt you to decide on a wedding cake flavor and you just eat every sample and talk about how they’re all delicious. I show you a dozen different fonts for the invitations and your eyes look a million miles away. I know that this isn’t really your thing but I thought you’d at least have one or two requests for our wedding.”

“You.”

Blinking, Magnus echoes, “You?”

Alec shrugs, can’t help the soft smile that comes over his face as he watches Magnus work himself up into a state. He wishes he’d known that this was bothering Magnus but now that he does, they can work it out.

“I want you. That’s all I need. I need you to show up and look beautiful as always and say, ‘I do.’ That’s it. Everything else can make it look pretty and romantic but at the end of the day, all I need for my wedding to be perfect is for you to be standing next to me. Honestly, I probably won’t even notice anything else, not when I’ll have you to look at all evening.”

Magnus melts against Alec, leaning forward and gently connecting their lips. It’s a chaste kiss, if lingering, and Alec hums a little at the taste of Magnus’s chapstick. Magnus pulls back after a minute and the loft is quiet, hushed.

Smiling, Magnus reaches out and sweeps his thumb over Alec’s cheek. Such a simple gesture still makes Alec’s heart skip a beat and his eyes close as he nuzzles into Magnus’s palm.

“You say the sweetest things, my love.” He looks confused as he asks, “You really don’t have anything you want at your wedding? Just one or two thing that you think would make the day just a little bit better?”

Uncomfortable, Alec jerks his shoulder. “It’s your wedding.”

Magnus shakes his head, the hand not cupping Alec’s cheek reaching down and intertwining their hands. “It’s our wedding, Alexander, and I want this to be the best day of your life like I know it will be mine.” He cuts Alec off before he can say anything. “Yes, I know me just showing up in a garbage bag would be fine but I want this day to be more than fine. I want it to be a representation of us. Our favorite colors and foods and friends and interests.”

Alec is quiet for a moment and Magnus lets him think. Often, Alec wonders how Magnus seems to know him so well, knows just what he needs and when he needs it and just how much.

“I’m a shadowhunter,” he starts, biting his lip. “I never meant for a single second to make you doubt that I wasn’t the happiest man alive to be able to marry you. It’s just that– I’m a shadowhunter.“ Alec repeats helplessly. "I proposed. That’s all I’m supposed to do until the wedding day. I didn’t mean to put all the planning pressure on you; I just assume you wanted it.”

Shaking his head gently, Magnus settles against Alec more firmly. “You know what they say about making assumptions, darling,” he teases. “I’ll admit that I’m surprised at that attitude, though now that I think about it, I don’t know why. Really, I should’ve figured that you wouldn’t be interested in the details.”

There are words at the tip of his tongue and Alec bites them back, unsure. Magnus looks at him, puzzled, before tentatively offering, “Why don’t we agree right now that whenever I ask your opinion on something about the wedding, you tell me the truth?”

Alec can’t help but blurt out, “But what if you don’t like it?”

Surprised, Magnus raises his brows. “What do you mean?”

Alec clears his throat. “What if I say something you don’t like or we have opposite opinions?”

Smiling, Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck and leans forward until their foreheads press softly together. In the space between them, Magnus murmurs, “Then we can talk things out like the mature adults we are or–” his voice drops, making Alec shiver, “I can think of how to convince you to my way of thinking.”

Alec’s helpless to do anything but close that remaining inch. He kisses Magnus with startling intensity, all the more devastating for its gentleness.

They kiss for long, lazy minutes. Alec will never, ever get used to kissing Magnus. No matter the context, the simple pleasure of feeling Magnus’s lips against his grounds him, pleases him, in the most visceral way.

They break apart, breathing hard and it takes Alec several seconds to remember what they were talking about.

“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he says, voice husky. “This is your wedding and I want it to be everything you want.”

Magnus’s eyes are liquid pools of adoration as he strokes his thumb across Alec’s bottom lip. “What I want is for us to plan our wedding together. It doesn’t need to be stressful or time consuming. We have a few months and luckily, I’m a warlock.” He waves his hands, letting blue sparks fall from it and Alec laughs, a sound of pure joy tinged with amusement.

The two of them are leaning towards each other and Magnus’s eyes are heavy, dazed with desire. Without thinking, Alec breathes, “Royal.”

Magnus blinks in surprise, before pulling back. Alec’s hands travel under the hem of his shirt, resting on the warm skin of his back as he grins.

“Royal blue,” Alec repeats, firmly. “It’ll bring out your eyes more.”

Magnus smiles, positively grins as he processes Alec’s suggestion. He chuckles, shaking his head. “I knew you had opinions.”

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, babe.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Magnus says absently, eyes glued to Alec’s mouth. “And I can’t wait.”

#you're such a peach omg!! #I want you to know that this message was very sweet and I smiled like an idiot for at least 10 minutes after I read it!!!!! #please don't hesitate to send prompts my way if you ever want to #unless you read this and you think it's garbage lol #dlsfglfgjlj #I hope you like this and that it was what you were thinking of!!!! #thank you again!! #anon #asked #answered #my writing #the bed we made #malec fic #malec fic rec #malec wedding planning #i like a couple that communicates #malec one shot

[ernmark]

Because I’ve been posting a whole lot of really sad stuff lately, here’s something a little bit more fun.

The prompt comes courtesy of Kya, who requested Juno undertake a very particular kind of case, with some details based on a conversation with @crownsnbirds​. 

Rita’s laid down the law: there will be no more dry spells in the Juno Steel Detective Agency. Juno has two weeks to recover, just long enough for the sunburn to finish peeling and the vertigo to fade into mild dizzy spells when he stands up too fast, and then he’s back on the job. 

He should probably thank her for that, at least when he’s done being annoyed at her about it. 

After everything that’s happened, the current case is a relief. There’s no conspiracy, no murder, no hostage situations, no rigged elections. Just a run-of-the-mill Uptown blue blood whining because their favorite tiara went missing.

“No, not a tiara,” insists Theophania Frost. “It’s a diadem. An antique from my dearest grandmama.” 

“Your... diadem.” Goddamn rich people. “Right. Now are you sure it’s actually stolen? Have you checked with your staff? Made sure it’s not out for cleaning or repairs or whatever?” Hell, maybe somebody left it in the refrigerator by mistake. God knows he’s done that with his eye patch once or twice after a long night.

“Detective Steel, I wouldn’t have called you here if I wasn’t absolutely certain it’s been stolen-- and I know who did it, too!”

Juno sighs. The tone of their voice tells him he’s going to be in for a long day. “Do you?”

Frost leans in conspiratorially and drops their voice to a whisper, as if they might be overheard. “Have you ever heard of the Bouquet Bandit?”

Oh god, not this again.

“Is this one of those crooks with a theme song trying to get into the Fortezza? Because this is a hell of a bad time to cash in on that deal.” 

“I don’t know, Detective, but I’m not the only one who’s been stolen from. Sam Spare, you know, the botanist? Xir diamond shears went missing a month ago. And Telemnachus Wake’s collection of antique horsehair necklaces was taken two months ago, and on the same day, they were sent flowers.”

“Flowers.” 

Frost takes Juno’s exasperation for enthusiasm. “That’s right! Every time he takes something, he always leaves behind a dozen roses.”

“Thus the name, I got it.” 

Why did Rita have to pick now to start doing her job?

Whoever this Bouquet Bandit is, he’s good. The crime scene is spotless, and there’s no signs of forced entry whatsoever. While Rita goes over Frost’s security system for footage and signs of tampering, Juno looks into the other alleged crimes of the serial burglar, looking for something they had in common. 

The best bet is in the delivery personnel-- people this rich get a lot of deliveries, and nobody thinks twice about a person in uniform with a box in hand walking right up to the front door. There are a few people on the security feeds that Juno pegs as suspicious, and not just because of the one thing they all seem to have in common: no matter where they are or what they’re doing, Juno can never get a good look at their faces. 

He scours the timestamps on the videos, looking for others that might give a better angle or reveal some kind of other identifying mark, but there’s no luck so far.

And honestly? He’s kind of loving it. After all the shit that went down, he’s been in need of a good, clean, straightforward case. It’s been too long since he’s done legitimate investigating that he could feel good about.

The thought barely has the chance to cross his mind before he hears Rita start talking to someone at her desk. A moment later, she’s poking her head inside his office.

“Hey, Boss? You got a delivery.” 

She looks about as concerned as he feels. Because in her hand is a bouquet of twelve red roses.

“What the hell?” He starts to his feet. “Rita, did you see who delivered these?” 

“Don’t worry, boss, I already asked. It was just a kid. She said some man stopped her on the sidewalk and gave her a whole bunch of money to deliver these to you.” 

“Did she see his face?” 

“I asked, but she wouldn’t say nothin’. She just gave me the flowers and ran.”

Juno grabs the card from among the roses and turns it over. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Juno’s still got the card in his pocket when he arrives at the meeting point. Rita insisted she come with him when she saw, but this time he was the one who put his foot down-- the last time she joined him on a job, she fell in love with a murderer, and this time he’s going to cut off the inevitable tragedy before he has to buy two pints of ice cream and sit through her forty favorite sad movies.

The card itself is infuriatingly unhelpful. The paper is high-class cardstock, but nothing so fancy that you couldn’t get it at any stationary store in town. The text is digitally printed in a fancy but publicly available font. The message is short:

Detective Juno Steel

Meet me at the Jacobi Convention Center at 3 PM on July 5.

Don’t be late.

It screams ambush-- which is another reason why Rita isn’t coming.

Even if the ambush is apparently going to happen at the local Y2K Faire.

It makes sense in its own ridiculous way: there are hundreds of people coming and going, half of them in costume, and everyone’s going to be carrying a shopping bag or a replica glock or sword or whatever, and there’ll be enough reenactors demonstrating fake duels that nobody’s going to notice if things get heated until it’s too late.

Old Americana-style signposts mark the different sections of the faire, their directions spelled out in big white letters against reflective green rectangles. One catches Juno’s eye: its metal pole is decorated with a dozen roses. It looks like a regular decoration, but he takes it as a sign and follows its lead. It’s not hard to find a second sign post covered in roses a little further, and another, until he’s on the far end of the convention center. By now the trail is easy to follow, laid out in a path of rose petals on the floor. They’re fresh, not quite dried out yet, not nearly as trampled as they should be, given how many people are here. The bandit can’t have been here more than half an hour ago, tops.

The trail leads to an exotic animal exhibit based on old-fashioned Earth petting zoos. Which... can’t be right. Juno checks all the way around the enclosure, just to make sure he got it right, but no. That’s where it ends. 

What the hell is he supposed to do with this?

He stares, perplexed, at children reaching through the bars to offer handfuls of pellets and sliced vegetables to cows and ponies and old Earth species of rabbits-- the kind that are fluffy and bright-eyed and small enough to hold in your arms.

The kind I’m used to eat carrots and wrinkle their little nosies.

The thought makes Juno’s heart ache a little bit. Reminders of Nureyev always do. 

He’s staring into the enclosure when he notices something that doesn’t belong: a bit of paper, fancy card stock the same stiffness and shade as the card in his hand, carefully pinned to the wool of a star-horned goat on the other end of the enclosure. He hurries over to the spot of fence closest to it, but as soon as he gets there, it’s on the move, meandering around to the other side.

“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath, and sets his foot on the metal gate. He wasn’t planning to get cow dung on his shoes today, but whatever.

“Hey!” barks a man who smells like he’s been working with these things for a long, long time. “You can’t go in there.”

Juno would ignore him and make the leap anyway, but the guy grabs him, and hot damn does he have a strong grip. Apparently wrangling a bunch of four-legged antiques for a living builds muscles or something. 

“I said you can’t go in there,” the caretaker repeats slowly. It’s a warning. It won’t be repeated again.

There’s even odds that Juno would win any fight between them, but no matter how it goes, he’ll end the fight by being dragged out by security, which means he’ll lose his only lead on this case. The Bandit’s got a game to play, and Juno intends to win it.

And that means playing by the rules.

“Sorry about that,” he says as sweetly as he can get away with. “I’m just so excited. I’ve never seen a goat up close before.”

The caretaker gives him a weird look, but backs off. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have to do your watching from out here. It stresses the animals out too much to let people into the pen.”

“Do you think you could bring one over for me to get a closer look?” He points at the star-horned goat with the note on its wool. “How about that one over there?”

“Listen, buddy,” the caretaker says. “We can’t do that. If you want them to come closer, we sell food pellets for a cred a bag.”

Sometimes, being a Private Eye means asking the hard questions-- like whether he’s going to include “petting zoo food pellets” in his expense report at the end of a case.

He decides to swallow the cost along with his pride and he buys a bag.

And then he buys two more; the one goat he’s after looks hungry, but apparently not as much as the rest of the animals in the enclosure. In seconds he’s swarmed by livestock, and Juno runs his hands over all of them, just in case the goat wasn’t the only one with a note in its fur.

And... okay, so they are really soft. It’s not like this is his first time at a Y2K Faire, but he’s never bothered to pay money for a chance to pet the animals. It’s actually kind of nice. Especially the cow-- she keeps bumping his hand with her soft, velvety nose, and scrubs her long tongue over the palm of his hand in a way that should be a lot more gross than it is. It’s a shame there aren’t more of these on Mars.

Sure, a few people are complaining about the smell, but Juno spent half his childhood wading through the sewers with giant rabbits. If anything, the smell of hay and manure and animal fur feels a little bit nostalgic. 

It’s not until he trades a handful of pellets to a six-year-old in exchange for a bunch of carrot slices that the goat finally starts heading his way, nosing at one hand while he fumbles to unpin the note from its wool. 

Just like he guessed, it’s the a perfect match for the card that came with the flowers, with the same paper, the same font, and the same obnoxious lack of helpful information.

Hungry, Detective?

Meet me in the Foode Courte.

Even without the little heart at the bottom of the card, there’s something ridiculously flirtatious about the whole thing. But that’s this thief’s schtick, isn’t it? Some kind of hopeless romantic who goes around tossing roses all over the place. Just watch, when Juno finds him he’ll be wearing a top hat and cape. Maybe that’s why he picked this place to sneak around in, so his getup won’t cause any suspicion.

After he washes himself off, Juno follows the signs to the circle of kiosks selling “authentic” twentieth-century cuisine-- things with bizarre names like “deep fried twinkies” and “mashed potatoes” and “blooming onions”. Thankfully, the trail of rose petals on the floor leads him past the more exotic options to a plain-old popcorn stand that’s offering nothing more historic than cheddar-and-caramel among its flavors. The smell of the popcorn is subtle compared to the other foods lingering in the air, but when he’s this close, it’s enough to make his stomach grumble.

Just like before, there’s another note, tucked into one of the pre-portioned bags of popcorn, and he swipes the beg the second the cashier’s back is turned. All expenses paid or not, there’s something criminal about charging seven creds for a quarter’s worth of popcorn. 

Okay, so the popcorn isn’t half bad. Not good enough to justify that price tag, but still, not bad. And he was just thinking he could use a snack.

The note is spotted and translucent with cooking oil, but it’s still readable enough. 

Join me for a game.

“That’s funny, I thought we were already playing one,” Juno says aloud, just in case the Bandit is watching him... which he probably is, dammit.

There’s a section of kiosks dedicated to old Earth carnival games, and sure enough, there’s another trail of rose petals leading him to the right booth: a target shooting game backed up against a funnel cake stand.

He’s not even surprised when he finds the corner of another note sticking out of a cut in an oversized teddy bear.

“Joke’s on you,” he mutters. “I’m great at these things.” 

He used to do these all the time when he was in high school, winning the biggest prize he could carry just to show off for his dates. 

He pays a couple creds to the lady behind the counter and takes aim. All three shots go wide, barely hitting the target.

Anywhere else, that might disappoint him, but not here. Sure, his aim isn’t ever going to be as great as it was when he had the THEIA on and active, but these games are always rigged. The trick is that now he knows which way the laser is skewed, and he corrects his aim accordingly. 

Seven bulls-eyes later, and he’s walking away from the stand with a stuffed bear almost as big as he is. Rita’s going to love this thing-- maybe it’ll make up for not letting her come.

He slips the last note out of the little hole in the bear and unfolds it.

If you want to look into my face, you’ll have to look into your own.

I’ll be waiting in the hall of mirrors.

Finally something direct.

There’s no trail of rose petals this time-- just an “out for lunch” sign and an unlocked door on the old twentieth-century attraction. He never got the appeal of places like this, where everything is dim and warped and confusing. But then, he never really got the appeal of mirrors, either. 

He leaves the bag of popcorn and stuffed bear just inside the door, and he sets out. 

“Alright, I’m here,” he calls into the twisting halls. “Enough of this scavenger hunt. Come out and we’ll settle this.”

His only answer is in footsteps. He whirls to follow the source of the sound, but he only manages to catch reflections of a retreating figure. In the warped glass, he can’t make out a face or a body type, but there’s something about the pattern of the footsteps that feels familiar. 

The Bandit is running, so he gives chase. He keeps seeing flashes of the man, bits and pieces that should all fit together but don’t. All of it feels too familiar. 

And then he’s out of the hall of mirrors and into another corner of the funhouse, this one full of holograms and wax figurines, all of them of celebrities and historical figures and beautiful people through the ages. Some of them are moving, repeating cliched one-liners and overused quotations, and it’s all coming from everywhere, sending false signals from every corner. His senses are so confused that he’s even smelling things he shouldn’t, animals and food and cologne.

Cologne.

“No,” he whispers. “No, it can’t be.” But the more he looks at it, the more obvious it is.

Pet the fuzzy animals. Have a snack. Play a game. Hell, even the flowers--

It’s so obvious. It’s terrible. 

Jesus, why do people keep doing this to him? Sending him on cases that aren’t cases-- it wasn’t even a year ago that he got dragged all over Oldtown for Sasha’s performance review, and then Ramses staged a goddamn assassination for a job interview, and then apparently the stakeout that was a bad excuse to get him to rest up from a stab wound, and now this? 

“Goddammit, Nureyev,” he snaps. “Is this supposed to be a date?”

Nureyev is still out of sight, lost in the dim lights and mannequins, but his voice wafts over Juno. “Are you having fun? I certainly am.”

“You couldn’t just ask--” No, he couldn’t. Because that isn’t Nureyev’s style, and Juno’s never exactly been the type to openly accept that kind of invitation. So he changes tracks. “I gotta say, the location threw me. A Y2K Faire seems kind of low-brow for you.”

“That’s hardly my fault. It did take you some time to respond to my calling card, after all.”

His... oh, goddammit, the serial robberies. “You’ve been trying to get my attention.”

“For months now, thank you for noticing. And you’ve been playing hard to get.” 

Juno sighs. “I wasn’t playing. I was just...” How is he supposed to even put it into words? “My head’s been a real mess.” 

“I can imagine,” Nureyev hums, and his voice is soft and so close that Juno can feel his breath in his ear. “Would you like to talk about it over dinner?”

#the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction #100

[rebel-band]

Track 3. Wednesday Night Blues

The faded blue shade of his middle school uniform, or what was now left of it, had always given Yoo-mi a sharp pressing feeling in his stomach, cold as a weather front moving swiftly to bring thunderstorms.

The trousers he outgrew already in August so they stayed behind at the beach house.

The polo, slashed and stained, rested probably in a dumpster some 600 km away across Japan. He was left with a once oversize cardigan, now quite literally, a painfully uncomfortable burden on his shoulders. A last reminder of when things went to shit.

"Are you alright?" Mika greeted him outside the school gate with eyebrows raised at Yoo-mi's hunched pose and pained face expression.

"It's this damn thing," he tugged at the buttons and the scruffy fabric at his chest, "I can barely breathe in it."

He suddenly got an urge to just get it off. Middle of the street, right in front of the school, he wiggled out of the sweater, tied it around his waist, and put the parka back onto the white shirt. A pair of girls leaving the school yard this moment gasped at the sight.

"Well looks like you've grown quite a bit since last wearing it," Mika gave him a fond smile.

"Should have just gone without it in the first place," he grumbled, brows furrowed. He took a side glance at another wave of students impeccably dressed in winter school uniforms curiously peeking at him while leaving from the exam.

"You know how it is, keeping up appearances. Makes for brownie points if you show the principal and teachers you've been sooo into your old school."

"That's the thing, I wasn't."

If anything, he was glad he wouldn't need to wear it ever again.

"Why are you even here?" he asked.

Yamaguchi's boxy black Honda was parked just opposite the street.

"Oh, I just had a doctor's appointment nearby," Mika patted her belly with a smile.

You couldn't really tell Mika was pregnant yet, and the oversize clothes she liked wearing weren't helping. Yoo-mi was pretty sure that apart from the grey hoodie she tended to borrow from her husband, it was also Kotarō's flannel she was sporting underneath it today, only the slim quilted waistcoat and the long skirt unmistakably hers in this outfit of the day.

"Should you really be drinking that?" he shot a look at a black paper cup with the Blackbird logo she was holding.

"Hush, one real one a day is fine. Kotarō found the best decaf he could for me, but it still tastes a bit ugh," she made a small whine.

She then rummaged in her shopper bag with one hand. "Here you go," she said and tossed him a little red package. It said, With love and appreciation in a faintly tacky font.

"What's this?"

"Obligatory chocolate. It's Valentine's today, silly."

Was it? For all he cared, it was a Wednesday like any other but he was grateful for the carbs, suddenly aware of the mental effort after the exams.

"How'd it go?"

"So, so. Math was easy, probably bombed Japanese," he shrugged, half of the chocolate already in his mouth.

"Not one for lofty words, I hear ya," she laughed.

"Can you drop me back to work? I'm late already."

"Nope."

"Fine, I'll walk."

"No, I mean, you're not going to work, Sado is covering your shift," she grabbed him by the sleeve.

Yoo-mi made a face at her mentioning the engineering student who worked part time at Blackbird, as did Kate.

"I'm taking you out for a treat," she said, seeing his frown, then added, "Their idea."

She quickly dialed a number on her phone and then forced it to his hand. Yoo-mi heard the line connect almost instantly as if someone had waited.

"Yumi, I'm so proud of you," a woman's voice called maybe a bit too loud and too close to the receiver on the other end.

He smiled.

"Haven't done anything yet. We'll see in a month."

"What does he mean he hasn't done anything!" he heard another voice grumble in the background.

"He there?" Yoo-mi asked and waited as the woman handed over the receiver. "There. I tried," he said.

"Well you had better," Kobayashi's voice was another grumpy grumble. "Good work, Ko," he added, nevertheless.

"Like I said, give it a month," Yoo-mi corrected.

"Good work," the man repeated with feeling before hanging up.

"Where are we going?" Yoo-mi eyed Mika, as she got them into heavier traffic, muttering swear words when a Prius suddenly changed lanes too close to their Honda.

"First, curry, then -- a surprise. Don't give me that look! I swear you're gonna love it," she grinned at Yoo-mi.

With a sigh he looked out the window.

He couldn't exactly remember the last time he was being driven around in the passenger seat but he could recall the Benz having more legroom than Mika's kei car. Then again, he was much taller now.

They passed Shibuya and Roppongi over on the motorway, then circled behind the Imperial Palace on the C1. After around 20 minutes of driving, Mika found a parking place, and from there they walked towards a street lit with neons inviting patrons to wine and dine.

GoGo Curry was Mika's choice for today, and a black Gorilla sculpture beaconing them inside with a thumbs up seemed to approve.

The meal was more than good, it was perfect for the icy weather and the mood today, real comfort food for a done in soul. Yoo-mi made a mental note to stop by a konbini and get some cubes to cook himself a curry next week too.

"Not bad today, hm?" Somehow he knew Mika wasn't really meaning to talk about the food.

He tapped the already empty plate with a spoon, and after a while mumbled, "They were all staring, I know it."

"At their exam sheets," Mika tried to dismiss the worried thought from his mind but he wasn't really listening.

"And they all knew each other, came with...someone."

"That's not true. There are students from different schools attending the same exam, you know that,"  she said, "They don't all know each other. Every one of them as freaked out as you were about it. And besides, I thought you didn't really like company," she teased.

"And I thought it was none of your business what I liked," he snapped.

Seeing her cringe, Yoo-mi bit his lip. He bumped a rolled fist into the tabletop lightly. "Sorry."

Mika wasn't really angry but appreciated the apology.

"I thought the same thing at my exams. It's hard being the outsider," she replied. "Then it turned out, when I asked my mates, none of them really remembered me from the day.

"You may have met your future classmates, who knows, but the impression is not a given. You're gonna have to what--?"

Yoo-mi rolled his eyes. There it was, the damn resemblance.

"Work on it," he replied.

"That's right, work on it when you get in," Mika nodded her head.

"If I get in," he corrected.

"Tell you what," she leaned in to him over the table, "You don't get in, I let you name my kid." A wide grin spread on her face.

Yoo-mi swallowed. He didn't know what terrified him more this very second -- the fact she was not joking, the fact she was so sure he would succeed, or maybe the fact that Kotarō would probably kill him, were he to take that dare.

"Not helping," he groaned and laid his head on the table. He noticed her phone laying about and finally remembered his own in the inner pocket of the parka. There was no point having it in the exam room, what with the school's policy. He turned it on again now.

"By the way, this came in for you today," she handed him an envelope with an official looking seal while he was looking at several missed calls from the lawyer.

"Sorry, a lot of your post will most likely end up in the café, the postman hardly ever gets it straight to the flat."

It was fine. He never got any post before.

Phone still in hand, he took the envelope but first opened the photo attachment he noticed the lawyer sent in an email. He drew in a breath at the sight.

It was the residency card. His photo, his name stated on the laminated plastic.

The vibrating phone snapped him back from the surprise. It was Hikaru calling again.

"Great news, Ko-kun," she greeted. "Managed to snatch you a resident card. There was a ton of digging and back and forths, turns out you never had one other than the one registered in the orphanage, long expired now. Long story short, it was a mess. But it's done." She sounded accomplished, smug almost. Yoo-mi could see her grin with the phone to her ear.

"Sorry I had to take it but they still need to register your new address on it in the ward office. I'll drop by to hand it over when that battle's won."

"Massive thanks," he could only say in return, full of relief. You had to hand it to her, she did not waste her time around the paperwork.

"Don't mention it," she giggled at the Osakan phrase he slipped in. "In the meantime, I've sent you your family registry. You've never seen it, right?"

"No," he swallowed, looking at the envelope addressed to him, heart suddenly beating faster.

"Well, there's no reason for you not to have it. Just..." she paused for a second, Yoo-mi fearing what she might say. "Talk to me, or Mika, about it when you feel like it, yeah?"

What's to talk about, he thought dryly to himself.

"I'll be sure to think about it," he answered, voice flat with no conviction.

She only sighed in response at the gentle Osakan refusal.

"Fingers crossed for the exams. I'll see you soon," she added and dropped the call.

He stared at the envelope tapping his foot and then noticed Mika give him a concerned look.

"Well, gotta go, preggo bladder calling," she suddenly raised from the booth towards the toilet placing a hand on his shoulder as she dismissed herself. With her gone, he tore the envelope open.

The koseki was a black and white sheet of soulless columns and rows.

He never cared for the "Father N.N." but his heart skipped a beat seeing her name on paper.

Ko Hae-ju. Deceased.

Very much so, he thought, something tight in his throat and chest like a fist ready to strike all of a sudden.

God, they didn't even tell him where she was buried.

Running from the memory, he moved the gaze down onto another row.

Offspring, it said formally.

And there he was.

Or rather, there they were. Two rows, one date.

He folded the paper in half. It was too much for one day already.

Mika found him sitting already dressed in the parka, hands in pockets, looking blankly at the exit.

"We can go, right" it wasn't really a question, he just stood up and moved to the door. "Thanks for the meal, I'll pay you back next month."

"No one's paying no one back," she fussed. "Wait, what about the surprise?"

Yoo-mi didn't answer. He was entirely through with surprises, through with this day.

Without taking a look back at Mika he stomped out of the restaurant and dashed through the street.

He knew he could easily lose her even if it wasn't too crowded like today, even if it wasn't the neighbourhood he had known; he had done that before. He wasn't quite running yet but the anger boiling under his heart was the perfect propeller helping him keep a pace as swift as the blood pumping in his ears. His chucks made a crushing sound as they gritted on the gravel on what must have been a slippery sidewalk beneath.

The crouching evening was sapping the last light of the winter day, and with every minute Yoo-mi felt like it drank all the warmth out of his body as well. The world turned frigid gray with the looming night.

Then, in a mere second, it also turned upside down.

He was thrown off balance on a patch of ice, and desperately tried to remember what it's like to keep calm skidding a surfboard over a riptide to avoid grubbing face first into a wave. But then his legs caught into something and gave in, and there was no way to keep steady. He landed head down on his back on the icy pavement with a thud and a racing heart.

That fucking thing.

That piece of shit rag. That goddamn fucking blue!

He growled and with a hard pull got the tangled blue sweater out from between his legs. His head hit the ice again.

Dark grey clouds were hanging overhead the grey Tokyo skyscrapers as he looked up into the sky right there on the grey pavement. He winced and silently cursed his drab life. Life distinctively void of colour but for the damn blue.

He closed his eyes for a brief second. He needed to get up, there was enough of staring done at him today.

But the street was really empty and no one had noticed. And truth be told, him laying on the floor wasn't even the strangest sight around. Because that was explicitly reserved for what he saw upside down in the nearest fancy storefront.

There was a grand piano and a young man.

He was playing and was, too put it mildly, seriously out of place.

Yoo-mi scooped himself up to a sit hardly taking his eyes off.

He had hair dyed faded blue, and a handsome profile. His movements on the black and white keys were pleasant to watch -- like a calm before the storm.

He wore a purple hooded sweatshirt embroidered with a bright flashy tiger under a blue denim jacket, black rugged jeans on his legs paired with some showy brand sneakers.

A Starbucks takeaway cup stood on the floor at the side of the piano bench. He must have placed it before sitting down.

He looked so offbeat, such a contrast with the classic grandeur of the black instrument, and yet somehow the man and the piano fit like a glove.

Yoo-mi couldn't really hear what he was playing through the traffic and the thick window pane but he was pretty sure it was no cover. The determination on the man's face was more than what you'd see when simply re-playing someone else's composition.

Finally, realising he was being watched, the young man tilted his head to the side, and sent Yoo-mi a flirty smile.

"Not nice, running out on a pregnant chick like that," Mika smacked Yoo-mi on the head with her scarf. It pulled him out of thoughts just in time for the stranger at the piano to not notice what Yoo-mi was sure to be his bewildered if not a slightly blushed face.

"Great landing by the way, saw from the end of the street. Very majestic," she teased as he scrambled to his feet. She stood there, arms crossed over the chest.

"You done?" he snapped.

Mika narrowed her eyes and made a low rumbly noise, like she just swallowed the thing she was meaning to say. Instead, she started walking.

"At least you chose the right direction, come on," she hurried him trying not to sound flustered.

Yoo-mi exhaled and before moving took a sneaky side glance at the storefront again. But the man was gone, and the only blue left in sight was the cardigan in Yoo-mi's hand. He threw it away to the closest bin.

"How'd you even catch up?" Yoo-mi asked.

"Please, a runaway won't ever outrun a runaway," Mika said like she really meant it, and oh boy, instant chills over his right arm and neck, did he fucking hope she was wrong.

Trailing by her side, he looked around, and only then noticed that the street was filled with storefronts similar to the one he had just seen. It was full of showrooms for musical instruments, new and used alike.

"Never been to Ochanomizu, I see," Mika grinned at his wide open eyes.

He looked around, head spinning from store banner to store banner, so she just dragged him by the sleeve into the second shop on the left. Bad Boss Guitars it was called, and Mika greeted the owner and chatted away casually like with a good friend.

"Surprise," she gestured around at the rows upon rows of stands and wall hangers filled with guitars of every size, shape, and brand Yoo-mi could think of.

He stood by the door, hand at his mouth, clearly failing at keeping himself from shifting from foot to the other in place.

"Can I look?" he asked so fast the words almost fused together, then shot Mika and then the owner a hungry glance.

"Look, touch, play. All you want, kiddo," Mika grinned again.

His hand went from covering the mouth to covering the eyes for a brief second, then a smile curled on his lips, and straight off he handed her the parka to spring in between the stalls.

Mika took a stool her friend offered, and was meaning to simply continue reading the Secrets of Raising the Happiest Kids she had picked up from a bookstore some time ago, while Yoo-mi enjoyed his time around the shop.

But then, with a smile, she settled on watching him instead.

#original story #original writing #oc #fiction #dawntotheinkblacknight #love #music #bands #friendship #family #goals #dreams #identity #belonging #lgbt #coming of age #japan-based #tokyo #tw: anxiety #tw: language #tw: loss

[tillyvis-com]

Key4Life: Website

I want to look at their website to analyse the brand image of Key4Life, and to learn a bit more about what they do! - this will help me better understand who I’m creating my campaign for - not the target audience, but the brand behind the target audience.

above: using green to help symbolise its the good stat? accent colour - could I use the green as an indicator for the important information like they do in my own work? green = correct! could I play on associations of the green colour? 

On their website, they hold a lot of quotes - talking about how and who they've helped! this is very useful, as in the brief, it says to pick a story or stat in the campaign - which I could end up pulling directly from their website! - these quotes also give me a better understanding of Key4life in general!

”KEY4LIFE IS ABOUT THE FUTURE, NOT THE PAST.” 

This shows K4L doesn't care about stereotyping these young men - what they've done/where they've been in the past doesn't matter - this programme is about who you can become - who you are going to be. - could I try and reflect the future through type? moving image - speed of movements? type always going forward? this may be a good concept! - telling the target audience to look forward - to their future, with no knife life? 

”KEY4LIFE OFFERS THEM THE OPPORTUNITY TO THINK AGAIN AND MAKE A NEW AND BETTER START TO THEIR LIVES. EVERYONE DESERVES A SECOND CHANCE.”

I love the fact K4L give out second chances - to vulnerable young men that just need someone to help them through the rough patches. - could I play on idea of second chances? - by repeating important words? - this would defiantly work for moving type!

”KEY4LIFE IS AN ALTERNATIVE FAMILY FOR ME. THEY KEEP ME UPLIFTED AND SUPPORTED.”

this shows K4L is there to be leaned on by these men, that they are just there to give people a push in the right direction! - a helping hand - show ‘uplifted’ and ‘supported’ through type? - type leaning on each other? saying ‘ get back up, pick yourself back up and get out there’?

“Our goal is to build and expand our work, reaching more young people and unlocking their potential, so as to provide the opportunity for them”

K4L’s goal is to ‘unlock potential’- shows that they are there to build up these men and show them they are valuable and can become someone they thought not possible.

On their website, they have a lot of photography - particularly in black and white - probably hiding at their colour scheme! I love the rawness of the photo above - looks like it was taken at one of their workshops - the name tag makes me think I could use hand rendered type in my campaign? make it more down to earth, and like the target audience are writing it themselves - like they too, can be knife free, like the campaign? 

above: this shows an example of how they handle type and imagery on their website - they seem to like it separate , in this case. Here, they have reared away from there classic, aerial font that I have seen a lot, but still kept it in capitals - I’m not sure that I like this serif font - I think the san serif fits better - as its more modern and feels more informal, like I think this company is - with their family based work/vibe! They have a constant uppercase type look - probably to make it stand out and be heard - like they want the campaign to be. 

I also found this on their website, I quite like this - almost like an infographic of there work process - the 7 step process within K4L! this process looks at emotional resilience - first steps with horses - ganging connections and letting go. as well as, employability - mark taster sessions - with possibilities of continuing these further. and then, on-going support - constant workshops, graduations, chances to be mentors themselves. I really like this method they have - at first its about connecting with something other than themselves - learning to cope with their emotions - knife crime is violent, so you can only image what being on the streets must do to these young men’s mental healths!

The employability steps means that they attendees have connections - and possible job routes to go down - which will help with getting them out of the streets - aunt eh on-going support suggests that Key4Life is like a family - once you complete the course, your still part of it - and they make sure you're still okay!

here, they show image and the together, I have to say this piece is rather poorly designed - the white text over the light background makes readability an issue, while the green is not much better. Also, there is no typographic hierarchy - making your eyes struggle to determine where to go first. So, this makes me think that Key4Life definitely has areas it could improve upon in their designing - which, I suppose is a good thing for me - it means that I can, hopefully, create a more designed campaign that will, hopefully, be better suited for actually grabbing attention, and in doing so, helpfully prevent knife crime!

Here shows their programmes - a prison programme, lasting a year - first three months while they're inside, with the first few steps - after, next steps done once out of prison. This is great - it gets to men who need a second chance, a helping hand - and it gets to them before they get out, as well as, helping them through adjusting back to society outside - this may be why they have a low re-offending rate - getting to the men at the right/most vulnerable time! 

“KEY4LIFE Got me doing more productive things and kept me out of trouble. I’m more relaxed,  I feel better in myself, and I’m bettering myself.” - Hayden, Key4Life Participant

community/YOI - focus on children in Youth Offending Institutions or those in deprived areas/at risk of offending - emotional resilience steps - overnight trips, workshops, preparation for work etc. get to them just as they may be an offender - helping those closest to the edge - giving them options - for work, mental health and a place to go for help!

At Risk Programme - 6 months, 18-30 year olds, been to/at risk of prison, only difference to prison programme = half time of prison programme! 

“Take on everything Key4Life has to offer. They’ll always be there for you if you ever need help.” – Jack, Key4Life Participant

Schools - focusing on prevention, mainly done by mentors - people who have been through it all, first hand, and got out! workshops, assemblies etc. even teaching teachers about emotional resilience - in hopes that they can help future kids, when K4L aren't there!

overall, looking into their website was very useful to look at - it has allowed me to learn a lot more about Key4Life as a charity, as well as, possible routes I could go down with this brief, based on their concepts/goals! For instance, I’ve learnt a lot about there programmes, for my brief, the School and Community/YOI are the ones that fit with my target audience! - aimed at prevention, I’ve also noticed the use of uppercase letters - they stick with this 99% of the time, so I thin this should be something to consider with my campaign! - or at least for the heading text! I’ve also learnt about their 7-step programme - focusing on the 3 pillars - aiming to keep contact and help with their participants - making this company feel more like a family than anything else! - like they actually care!

In conclusion, I have learnt a lot about the company as a whole, and will use some of this knowledge to help inform my decisions in the future/idea development! I have also gained a lot of quotes/stories for their website - which I may be able to use within my campaign! 

[lubdubsworld]

Hold me tight ( don’t let me go )

abo fic. 

Chapter 3 (Hoseok/OC )

“You can say no.” Hoseok said quietly, watching me as I put on the seatbelt and buckled it down. I glanced at him in surprise. 

“You don’t want that…” I said, confused. 

“I know. I’d be eternally grateful if you did this for us, but i don’t want you to think you owe me something. I want you to know, none of us will think less of you if you were to refuse. It’s not an easy task and its dangerous too. If you have any doubts, you can simply refuse. I’ll take care of the rest.” He said firmly. 

I wondered what was running through his head at the moment. 

“I don’t understand, you were the one who wanted to do this.” I reminded him quietly. He sighed. 

“Just promise me you’ll tell me if it becomes too much. ” He said after a few minutes of silence. 

I nodded. “ You’re a good man, Hoseok ssi. Not a lot of Alphas care about omegas.” i said bowing my head lightly. He gave me a long steady glance. 

“You’re wrong. I’m not a good man at all. ” He shook his head. Before I could reply, he pulled over to the side of the road and I recognized the police station where I’d met Hoseok the previous day. Once we got out and settled in his office, Namjoon and another Alpha, presumably the Captain came in. 

“Are you Nabi?” The other Alpha said briskly and I nodded quickly. Hoseok reached out and lightly tossed his coat over my shoulders and I blinked, eyes rolling back momentarily when his scent flooded through my system without warning. Swallowing , I stood up and followed the rest of them through a series of dimly lit corridors before we reached a small secluded place. My eyes widened as I noticed Rose in a corner, eyes darting around nervously as she sat crouched on a cement ledge. 

“unnie!!” I rushed into her arms, engulfing myself in the familiar warmth of her hug as she hugged me tight. 

“Nabi… oh God, I thought Mino found you… He was like a raving dog for a few weeks… ” Rose shuddered and i shut my eyes closely. I knew exactly how mino would get. 

“Is he still looking for me ?” I whispered , heart pounding and she shook her head. 

“He has a new omega, now. Did you have the baby, how is he?” She said nervously. I launched into a quick description of Yunsu completely forgetting the rest of the Alphas around until Namjoon subtly cleared his throat, making me flush and move away from the beta. 

“There are some facts that we’ve managed to gather in the last twenty four hours. ” Namjoon said casually and I watched as he slowly turned on a projector. Something flickered on the screen before showing a man with side burns. I blinked in confusion . He looked very familiar. 

“I’ve seen him. He’s one of the guys Mino brings along to check the girls.” I said softly. 

Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged glances and Namjoon cleared his throat. 

“This man is Dr. Lee Changmin. They call him the abortion doctor because he specializes in illegal abortions for high school kids or prostitutes. However, our trafficking division has always kept an eye on him and recently his name came up with the Narcotics division as well. He was involved in a deal involving  a large amount of barbiturates recently. Incidently, the time he ordered the stuff coincided with the time frame when close to twenty five young omegas went missing from around Gwangsangdo , Daegu and ilsan areas. Note that these weren’t unclaimed omegas on the streets. These were actual omegas born into wealthy families. Little girls kidnapped on the way to school. ” Namjoon’s voice shook and I knew he was thinking of Jin. 

“Where does he operate?” Hoseok said , eyes narrowed and the red in the pupils beginning to ring . I felt myself cowering a bit as his aggressive Alpha side pulsed out of his skin. Even Rose was beginning to shift around nervously. 

“In the ilsan area but we think he gets called to work in different places. We’ve been tracking him from last night and the guy will bring him in in a few hours i think."Namjoon glanced at his watch. 

"What about Mino?" 

"For now, Mino is laying low. The moment you metion his name, everyone clams up. I think Nabi is the one who can actually find him.” Namjoon gave me a look and i nodded while Rose mad a sound of impatience. 

“You can’t be meaning to send her back in there!!” Rose said stunned. Hoseok gave me a look but i quickly shook my head. 

“it’s okay, unnie. I’ll get in and get out. ” I said quickly. My pulse began pounding a bit as i thought about all the horrors Mino wrecked on those girls. I could actually help. 

“Nabi, we’ve got this for you.” Namjoon said slipping me a few small sachets of what looked like powdered thermocol. 

“What are these?” I said, confused. 

“Alpha scents. From almost every single Alpha in the precinct. You can carry this with you, it will completely mask your scent and also hide your tracks. ” Namjoon said firmly and I nodded, slipping the little packets into my pant’s pockets. 

“We also have some GPS equipment. We’ll keep track of you so you don’t have to worry. Another thing, the moment you glimpse Mino , you give us a visual and we come get you. You’ll be wearing this on your collar. It can record both sound and image. ” Hoseok stepped close and gently pinned the small devise to the inside of my collar. I nodded and saw the way his nostrils flared in distaste when he caught the scent on me. “ Fuck, you smell awful.” He muttered , shaking his head and Namjoon laughed. 

“It’s just for a little while . I’m sure you can adjust till then, Hoseok hyung.” He laughed. Hoseok went a few shades red at the good natured teasing. 

“So, that’s it?” I said , surprised. 

“That’s it. Find Mino. Once you get a visual on him just tell us you found him and we’ll come get you." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The place reeked even worse than i remembered , probably because I knew what it was like to breathe fresh air now. I stayed close to the shadows as the crowd milled around me. It was a little past five in the evening and I casually touched the edge of my pockets where I had the small pocketknife. I hadn’t picked a lock in ages. I pressed myself against the alley wall, aware of the greasy dirt staining my shirt before lightly edging to the door. I tried the door once, al though I knew it would be locked. 

I stayed leaning against the wall, watching people casually, ignoring a few catcalls while I slowly pulled the knife out and lightly picked the lock to the rusty old door. Once I heard the snap of it opening, I swiftly turned, opened the door a little and slipped in. 

VEnom.

The graffiti on the walls was jarring, mostly the name of the club in different fonts. Once i reached the edge, I saw the bouncer. He glared at me and I thanked Mino’s paranoia which made him change bouncers every month. This one had never seen me around before. I lightly clutched the small card that I had , miraculously held on to. it was a membership card from Mino’s club, from years ago and while I was pretty sure the thing had expired a long time back, I knew that low level bouncers couldn’t really read all that well. They would see Mino’s Signet and let me in. 

Sure enouygh, the man glances at the golden logo on the card and held the inner door open for me. 

The moment the door opened, my head swam as i got assaulted by strobe lights and swaying bodies. Elbowing my way in , I flinched when one of the guys wrapped an arm around my waist , lightly nipping at my neck. 

"Play pen’s closed sugar.” I whispered softly, lightly stroking his cheek feeling my skin crawl, but keeping my gaze hot and heavy the way men preferred. 

“Ahh… come on babe. ” He whined and I hesitated not sure what to do. I didn’t want to pick a fight and draw attention so I went willingly into his arms and let him get frisky.

“You look like you could use a nice cock inside you, right now…” The man said , voice low and sultry and I bit my lips to keep myself from laughing. 

Horny men were woefully unoriginal. 

“You gonna give it to me, then , babe?” I said sweetly, fluttering my lashes and leaning closer to kiss the curve of his neck, tasting stale cigarette smoke and sweat. 

I flinched when i felt the microphone in my ear buzz and a minute later I heard an ominous growl through the speaker and I jumped lightly. 

“Don’t go overboard…” Hoseok’s gruff voice came through the headset and I struggled to gain my composure. 

“What’s wrong? ” The guy looked concerned and i shook my head.

 it took me five seconds to realize that Hoseok was actually watching and hearing everything. Oh, God… 

“Babe, i think I’m gonna have to use the restroom. Wait for me?” I pouted. 

“Don’t be long.” The guy kissed me sloppily and i nodded, before carefully picking my way out and edging deeper into the pub. It was oddly anticlimactic, going back in here.

“Did you have to kiss him?” Hoseok snapped over the line and i flushed. 

“i… it’s what they expect…”

“Don’t do that again.” He growled. 

I swallowed and hummed, moving past a few more men to the curtains leading into the passageways inside. 

 I’d walked these hallways so many times. It was easy enough to keep going through the labyrinthine passages and sure enough, after a few more turns, I heard Mino’s voice through the dull golden curtains at the end of the corridor. 

i stopped short , the familiar tone spreading a visceral fear inside me. I had really bad memories of this place. And Song Mino’s gutteral voice featured in every one of them. 

i swallowed. 

“Nabi? ARe you okay?” hoseok’s voice came through and i struggled to compose myself. 

“He’s here.” I said softly. “ But hold on while I try to get a glimpse of him…”

I stooped near the curtain, heart beginning to pound considerably. I caught snippets of conversation and finally a few words that seemed important. 

“R and Corp…. Jeon Inc.,…treat for the guys… christmas eve… Hotel Gravity…” I repeated the words carefully , hoping Hoseok was making note of that. 

“Got, it. Nabi, turn around and walk out… now…” Hoseok said nervously and i caught the worry in his voice. 

i nodded, moving back, only to stumble over my own foot, crashing into a brass vase next to me. 

the resulting clang was deafening and Mino went quiet , a loud, “ WHO THE FUCK IS THERE?” resounding though the corridor. My heart leapt to my throat and i crawled back on my hands and knees, so scared that i thought my heart was going to give out. 

“Nabi.. hold on.. i’m coming…” Hoseok was saying but i didn’t pay any mind, i was on my feet, running wildly through the corridors , muscle memory somehow helping me reach the main floor without getting lost. i went into the crowd, tears threatening and the urge to just lay on the ground and sob, so strong that i trembled, finally managing to catch sight of the exit. 

I grabbed the door at once, easily picking my way out of the crowd, careful to avoid the man from earlier. Once i stepped out into the curb and started walking away, the fool weight of what I was doing and where i was, hit me like a truck.

 i whimpered a little and ran the last few steps that led to the main road, flying around the corner in panic and falling headlong into someone’s arms. 

it took me a seocnd to realize it was hoseok. i stopped flailing, going limp in his arms and the warmth of his embrace calmed me down finbally. 

“I got you… I got you sweetheart, you did good.” Hoseok’s voice was muffled, his face covered in my hair as I clung to him.

He held me like that for a while, till i stopped panting and finally my senses returned and i pulled away, embarassed. 

“I’m sorry…i didn’t mean to run into you..” i whispered and he smiled.  

“It’s alright… Come on… Let’s get you back to the office." 

~~~~~~~~~~~`~~

When Hoseok went to talk to some of the other detectives, I decided to find a room to sit down in. i was tired and my feet hurt a bit. I took a wrong turn or something and ended up in a deserted corridor. Suddenly, i heard the sound of laughing and giggles in one of the room.

"What’s a big bad Alpha like you doing away from his omega? Bet you get lonely at night…" 

I froze, because that was Rose.

And then i heard a familiar chuckle that pretty much made my breath hitch.

Namjoon. 

I didn’t even think twice, throwing the door open forcefully.

Namjoon jumped like he’d been shocked. He looked guilty as sin as he stared at me and Rose looked annoyed. 

"Nabi.. what are you doing here?” She frowned. 

“I was looking for you, Alpha. ” I said glaring at Namjoon.“ Did you speak to Jin, you know… your husband?” I stressed the last word and Rose’s eyes went wide.

“I .. I should go …” She muttered, looking back and forth between us before slowly leaving. Namjoon gave me a look of impatience.

“Was that really necessary…?” He mumbled. 

“You tell me… Jin doesn’t deserve that… and I think you know that better than anyone.” I said distressed beyond belief. For some reason, i had looked up at Namjoon and Jin as a sign of hope. The hope that not all Alphas treated their omegas like crap or took advantage of them. But here, Namjoon was betraying Jin with a woman he hadn’t met for more than a day. 

Namjoon sighed.

“Nabi.. this isn’t… I don’t want to talk about this alright. Jin and I have some issues that you can’t possibly understand…”

“You’re his alpha, that’s all I need to understand and I know he trusts you-”

“WELL, HE SHOULDN’T FUCKING TRUST ME BECAUSE I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE HIS ALPHA!!!" 

I flinched and stepped back, stunned by how furious he looked.

"Alpha…Namjoon…”

“I can’t have kids…” Namjoon spat out bitterly. “ I can’t give him pups… How can I call myself his alpha, if i can’t give him the one thing he needs more than anything. ” He said anguish coating his words and I saw the distress in him, could smell it off him in waves and his pain was so raw and new. 

“Did you find out recently…?” I said nervously and namjoon hesitated before nodding.

“Last week…I… i had my evaluation and just did the test on a whim…” He said with a sigh. 

“Have you told Jin?" 

"And watch him fall out of love with me in front of my eyes? No thanks.” Namjoon said bitterly. 

I made a noise of distress. 

“Namjoon , you can’t honestly believe that Jin will blame you for something you can’t control…" 

"Then who exactly should we blame? I’m supposed to be an Alpha, I’m supposed to be able to give him pups, give him a family…" 

I sighed .

"Namjoon, I’ve been with Alphas who could father pups. Most of them beat up their omegas. Raped them, hurt them. They were fertile but they were inhumane.. Yunsu’s father tried to kill him in the womb. They’re the ones who don’t deserve to be called Alphas. You would protect Jin with your life. And that’s all that matters. I’m an omega and trust me, I would never want to give up on someone i love, just because I couldn’t have pups with them. A pup is just an extension of your love. it doesn’t have to be the only love you share.” I said softly. 

Namjoon stared at me. He looked confused and uncertain.

“Talk to him. Tell him, what’s bothering you. ” I said firmly. 

Namjoon sighed.

“Fine. But if he divorces me , it’s on your head.” He muttered, although i could see a hint of a smile. 

“You’ll thank me later.” I said with a smile.

“I’d like to thank you now.” He said fondly, reaching out and wrapping me in a hug. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hugged Yunsu close, trying to balance him on my hips as I packed some of my clothes into the small bag that Jin had leant me. He’d laundered all my clothes for me and actually added three new sets of clothes , some lingerie and plenty of little onesies for Yunsu to my belongings. No matter how much i refused, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I sighed a bit, wondering when i would see them again. But i knew that this was a temporary thing anyway. i didn’t belong in their world, no matter how much I wanted to be. 

Yunsu giggled and buried his head in my neck, chubby fingers curled around my hair as he chewed on his knuckles, sloppily. He yanked my hair a bit sharply and i flinched a little moving to zip the bag up. 

“Baby, you’re hurting your mama….” Hoseok’s voice came from the door and I jumped a bit. 

I watched as he stepped close, lightly reaching out and taking Yunsu from me. Yunsu immediately sighed in satisfaction, curling around Hoseok as he settled against the Alpha. I felt my throat go dry, the air charged with something i couldn’t identify. or maybe didnt want to identify. I could smell the arousal coming off Hoseok in waves and my body was already thrumming in response. I bit my lips. I had to get out of here before i did something stupid. i moved quickly to the corner of the bed, where a small pile of my clothes lay, i turned my back on Hoseok and folded them swiftly, arranging them in the bag. By the time i was done, Hoseok had started humming slowly, rocking Yunsu back and forth. 

When I finished and fully closed the bag, ready to leave, I froze.

“He’s asleep.” Hoseok’s raspy voice came from right behind me, his breath warm and fluttering over my neck as his chest brushed my back. I swallowed , closing my eyes tightly. For a second , he didn’t move . 

“Namjoon told me you spoke to him about …stuff. That was nice of you. To help them out like that. For saying the right thing. ” He said.

“I was  just telling him the truth…” I said nervously, my voice trembling. “ Jin loves Namjoon. " 

"He does. Namjoon is lucky. they say, an omega’s love is the best gift an alpha can get. Lifelong loyalty and devotion.” He whispered and I clenched my fists. He was so close, way too close. I could feel his breath on my neck. 

“You could have it too… There are a lot of omegas who would…” I choked a little.“ love to be with you. I’m sure…" 

He stared at me, without saying anything.

"I… Nabi..”

“I’m … i would offer to pay you back by…. ” i laughed softly, glancing at the bed and then quickly shook my head. “ but you deserve better. So much better." 

"Nabi.. stop.. I’m not asking you to sleep with me.,.. what the fuck…" 

And then he was reaching out for me, like he wanted to hug me-

The door opened and we both jumped apart guiltily.

It was Jin. 

"Sowon called. She’s coming over for dinner she said. ” Jin said cautiously, glancing between me and Hoseok while I held Yunsu as close as possible, the pup tumbling in my arms restlessly.

Sowon. the girl from the store who had been so upset that i’d smelled like hoseok. 

I could feel something very tight inside my chest, regret and embarrassment warring inside me.

What had I been thinking? The answer was simple. I hadn’t been thinking at all.

But now the magnitude of what I’d just suggested  made me tremble a little in guilt.

After everything Hoseok had done for me… I’d repaid him by proving just how much of an immoral omega I was. A whore . I could feel the wetness between my legs and my body ached like I’d been steam rolled. I could barely stop the trembling in my thighs as I clutched the bag to my shoulders. 

Hoseok grimaced at Jin. The older had a sympathetic expression on his face as he stared at me. 

“Fuck, I don’t know how I forgot. She’s going to be pissed. I didn’t make any reservations. ” Hoseok muttered. Then he turned to me, looking a little awkward. Jin slipped out of the room tactfully and I shifted from one foot to the other. 

“Will you mind staying here another night?? We can. …talk tomorrow.. ”

I shook my head quickly. 

“Oh no, it’s alright… Um… I’ve already been here too long. "I laughed nervously. Hoseok looked like he wanted to argue but I beat him to it. 

"This doesn’t have to mean anything. I mean, I wanted it and you did too. Let’s just think of it as a friendly transaction. ” I laughed nervously. “You don’t have to pay me for it though. You’ve already done enough. ”

Hoseok looked conflicted. 

“I shouldn’t have… ”

“It’s okay, really. I’m… ” Used to it, I wanted to say but I didn’t. “ Thankful for all that you did for me .” And I was. Maybe going back to the streets would be a little too painful but I would get over it. It was better then sticking around and dreaming of things that were unlikely to ever happen. 

“Where will you go? I want to see you again… ”

A bad idea if there ever was one. I shrugged. 

“I move around a lot. I have Jins number. If anything… I’ll call you. ” I said softly. Hoseok held his hand out and I blinked. 

“Can I hold him? ” he said, voice a little raspy and I hesitated before handing Yunsu over to him.. The pup quickly snuggled against him and my head hurt a little at the sight. 

“ i… i don’t think that’s a good idea, Alpha.” i said softly. 

Hoseok jolted.

“Don’t calle me that, Nabi…” he began but i quickly moved to grab my bag. 

“Good bye Alpha.” i said, walking out of the room very quickly. 

i had to get out of here. 

#hoseok smut #hoseok fics #bts abo #jhope fics #jhope smut #i wrote so much to day !!! #i'm proud of myself

[fanfic-scribbles]

13. Mirror

A/N: Almost late, whew. I had a hard time writing this one, at first. I started much later than I wanted, but once I got going…I didn’t ‘stop’ so much as I imagined I would. I thought this would be, like, 300 words by the skin of my teeth.

Words: 1995. Oops.

Warnings: Nothing, really. Language, mile gore (nothing detailed though).

“Seriously? Like ‘mirror mirror on the wall who’s the fairest of them all’?”

“Was that mirror even evil?” Dean asks and you shrug.

“Can you two focus?” Sam asks. Dean rolls his eyes back onto the road and you grumble and lean over Sam’s shoulder. You don’t actually read the screen because you know Sam’s just gonna rattle it off for you. It’s just as well; the sun is too bright and glaring and the font is tiny. You rest your head on the seat and shut your eyes.

“Deaths have been picking up in the last couple of years, all following this mirror,” Sam says. “One of the more recent victims, Mrs. Sandra Doyle, apparently told her sister she had seen some other woman when she looked into it. A day later, Sandra and her husband were found dead.”

“So like ‘Bloody Mary’?” Dean asks.

You snort. “Bloody Mary isn’t real.”

“Not the historic one. That we’ve found.” Sam smiles with his voice. “But we did get a ghost that once– hey; are you sleeping?”

“Yes, I often talk in full sentences when I sleep.” You crack open one eye to glare at Sam. “The sun’s bright. I’m listening.”

“Ah, it’s okay Sammy. Our little killer’s just daydreaming about pretty blue eyes and what an angel knows what to do with a tie,” Dean says and clicks his tongue.

You think of the myriad ways you can respond to that. Since Cas isn’t here and has been forbidden from popping into the car without prior warning, you go with: “My, my; is that competition I hear?”

“Nah; we decided we’re better off as friends.” Dean’s green eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror and he winks. “You go get ‘im, tiger.”

“Ugh!” You smack the back of his head lightly. “I hate you sometimes.”

“Hey, hey, no hitting the driver.” Dean smirks and your stomach sinks at the promise of embarrassment in his tone. “I don’t care how cranky you are that you’re not gettin’ any.”

“Oh my God, Dean!”

“Anyways!” Sam says loudly over your righteous fuming and Dean’s infuriating laughter. You’re silent and Dean uses that time to otherwise nonverbally gloat. Sam shakes his head. “But seriously, mutilated victims with no other way of entry or not, there’s one thing that doesn’t add up to this being a ghost: there’s always a robbery to go along with the murders.”

“What?” you ask.

“Then how is this even our thing? Psycho burglar?” Dean asks but Sam shakes his head.

“There’s too much about these murders that isn’t humanly possible. But what would a ghost need with money and jewelry?” Sam asks rhetorically. “I figure Dean and I will play FBI and go down to the station and see the bodies. You, take these.” He hands back a pile of print-outs and you start going through them. “In there is the address for the most recent crime scene; it should still be closed off. Take the EMF reader with you and look around for anything strange.”

“All right; we have a plan!” Dean says. “If things go well, by tomorrow we’ll be smashing Cinderella’s evil mirror.”

“Snow White,” you and Sam say in unison.

Dean huffs and grumbles, “Who even cares. Freakin’ nerds.”

“You okay?”

You pant and nod and struggle to sit up. Because you’re you, and the Winchesters still have the shittiest luck in any plane of existence, nothing has gone well. It was a ghost. And a witch. Thankfully, Cas is here, helping you up, and the witch is–

Sam and Dean and you all cry out when you’re thrown away from each other. You feel a little pressure but you slip out from under it, grab your gun, and get back on your feet to see Sam and Dean, suspended and pinned to the wall behind the witch who, while battered and bruised, is now holding a knife at Cas’s throat. It’s not an angel blade and Cas looks like he’s going to smite her where she stands, but you still don’t know where the mirror is.

Cas, let her think she’s won for a second, you pray quickly. Cas blinks, but slowly raises his hands as if surrendering. Dean and Sam look confused but they shut their mouths. You swallow hard, and with your gun still pointed right at her, you force your hands to shake just enough to be noticeable. You can still kill her if necessary, but you need to be convincing.

“Oh, a baby hunter.” She laughs. “How cute. Put the gun down sweetheart, or I’ll slit his throat before moving onto the other ones.”

“I– I can’t!” you say, adding a waver to your voice that makes you sound pathetic and desperate. Sam and Dean force themselves neutral and you’re grateful for it. The last thing you need is Dean making this harder.

“Well, okay then.” She shrugs. “But with the way you’re shaking you’re more likely to hit the giant idiots behind me, or the one in front of me. Keep that in mind.”

You shake your head. You swallow hard again, making sure it’s visible. “Why– why are you doing this? Killing entire families…it can’t really just be for money, can it?”

“What can I say? Spell casting is an expensive hobby,” she says. You’re tempted to roll your eyes. Because there are a few noticeable touch-ups on Samantha’s body that probably weren’t cheap either. And yes, Samantha, because she definitely isn’t young enough to be Sabrina.

“I bet spell ingredients for a hex bag to protect yourself from a murderous ghost are pretty damn pricey,” Sam says.

“Oh honey. I don’t need protection,” the witch says. She narrows her eyes at you and her smile is chillingly wicked. It’s kind of all you can do not to just shoot her in the face. “You came looking for the mirror, right? Well be careful what you wish for, because you’re about to find it. Go to the desk and look behind it.”

You hesitate and she presses the dagger to draw a line of blood. Cas stiffens appropriately and you gasp– legitimately, on instinct. You know Cas is fine, probably doesn’t even feel it, but the sight of him being ‘hurt’ gets you at a gut level. You back up, gun in hand, and do as she says. Bingo, you think as you lean the mirror against the desk and pull away the sheet covering it.

The ghost appears immediately within it and you jerk back a few steps. Dean calls your name, and Cas’s. Cas repeats your name in your head but you’re on high alert now and ‘pray’ a quick, Cas, I’ve got this!

You take aim.

“Are you seriously going to shoot a ghost?” the witch laughs mockingly.

The ghost is a sad, angry thing; she looks young but has long gray hair that waves like it’s being blown by a slow-motion wind. She approaches you with jerky motions, but your eyes travel to a button on her shoulder. At first it seems no different from the one on her other shoulder, but then it glints in the light and in that moment you can tell it doesn’t belong.

You fire and shatter it. The ghost stops. The witch chokes in a breath. The ghost now looks less angry– more confused. You breathe a sigh of relief and relax. “What- what have you done?!” Samantha screams.

“Okay Cas,” you say, dropping all pretense and looking at the hag with as much contempt as you can. The witch, enraged, slices right across Cas’s throat and shoves him forward.

Though you cringe at the sight of Cas with such a gruesome injury, you take no small amount of satisfaction when the witch gapes at him not falling, and the way her eyes widen when he turns back to her. “What are you?!” she gasps and stumbles back.

“Let me show you,” Cas says lowly and holds his hand towards her, going to smite. The ghost suddenly appears next to him and grabs his wrist. He stops and looks at her, and they both stare silently for a moment. Cas lowers his arm and nods his head at the witch.

“No!” she screams and starts chanting. You figure she’s trying to trap the ghost back in the mirror so you do the only thing you can– you grab it and throw it as hard as you can to the floor. The glass smashes to pieces.

“NO!” the witch howls and that’s the last thing she ever says before the spirit gets her hooks into her. You turn away and wince at the sounds that will stay with you forever, but you don’t really regret what you did. Fucked up as it is.

Cas stands next to you and you feel better for his presence, even if he’s only barely touching his hand to your arm. You wait until the noise has ceased and turn to see the ghost, her last victim, and Sam and Dean holding out weapons at her and inching away. The ghost slowly turns back to face you and Cas and she looks tired, with a sad smile.

“No reaper will come to collect you, I’m afraid,” Cas says to her. “You can go on your own, or we can help you along. I recommend letting go, though. You are free now.”

She waits a moment and then nods. She aims a smile at you, and then…glows, and fades into nothing.

You release a breath, as do Sam and Dean. “Good job,” Sam says and ruffles your hair.

“Yeah. We are still torching that mirror,” Dean says, looking at the mess on the floor. “Pick up the pieces and put it on the base; Sam and I are gonna check for hex bags so we can burn it all at once.”

“Gotcha,” you say and kneel down as they leave the room. It isn’t a big job, as everything is contained in mostly one area. As you pick up a large shard that had gotten turned over mirror side up, though, your breath catches in your throat.

In it you can see Cas behind you, looking elsewhere, but stretching out from behind him, curving around you is…you squint. It’s getting fuzzy but that is definitely his wing. And it is, without a doubt his wing, around you. Around you. You feel giddy and test it by moving forward and holy shit it moves with you. You quickly set the piece with the others and resist the urge to look again. It’s probably a coincidence. Hell, the mirror might not even necessarily show the truth. That thought depresses you –you remember a flash of something from the night you were poisoned and it’d be nice to see it when you’re not dying– but you stow the image away as simple wishful thinking.

Later that night you’re all sitting or leaning on Baby’s hood and watching the witch’s implements burn. Including the mirror. Sam comments absently, “I wonder how she trapped the ghost in there. We found the spell work for controlling spirits but nothing mentioned how to place a ghost like that.”

“She put an enchantment on the mirror itself,” Cas says. “I noticed one of the spells on it was to reveal things that cannot normally be seen by the human eye.”

You perk up, a shadow of black feathers crossing your mind. “Really?”

Cas nods solemnly. “It is good that it has been destroyed.”

You find you can’t fully agree with him, but you smile nonetheless. You think of the way that wing curved around you –protective– and the feeling that Cas gave you by his ‘mere presence’ when the ghost was finishing her business with the witch. Was that his wing too? His wings? Singular or plural, you can’t help but have a little hope. Maybe this thing with Cas is a little less one-sided than you thought.

#cas x reader #castiel x reader #cas x you #castiel x you #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #spn #fanfic #october challenge