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edendaphne · 4 years

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“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 17

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 17: LULLABY

(Mood Music: Quiet Beauty - James Todd)

One Chilly Sunday Evening

Chat Noir laughed so hard he was practically gasping for air, and his heart thumped like a drum in his chest.

How many times had they done this? Was it five? A dozen? A hundred? Racing Ladybug across city rooftops felt so normal, so natural, as if he’d done it a million times across countless different lifetimes. Whatever the case, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I win!” he announced, breathless, as he landed on the solid ground of the Dupain-Cheng bakery’s balcony, promptly followed by his partner.

The light of the moon illuminated her graceful frame as she caught her breath, and it took all of Chat’s willpower not to gawk as a bead of sweat made its way from her temple to her cheek, then trailed down her jaw and onto her neck.

“Only because you cheated!” Ladybug chided, trying (yet failing) to hide an amused smile.

Chat put a hand on his hip, cheekily cocking it to the side as he caught his own breath. “I bet you could’ve won if you really wanted to. Were you trailing behind me on purpose to check out my assets? Or don’t tell me that you’ve never been tempted to take a peek?”

Ladybug raised a quizzical eyebrow, and a beat later replied with an impish smirk, “Well... I never said I haven’t.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide, his bright, chartreuse-green sclera becoming more visible than Ladybug had ever seen, their faint glow a stark contrast with the red color that bloomed on his cheeks.

Ladybug giggled (How dare she be so adorable yet still so attractive?!) and stepped towards him, placing her finger under his chin and closing his mouth with a small click. When had his jaw popped open??

“What’s the matter, Chaton? Can’t handle when somebody flirts back?” she teased, her face mere inches from his.

Chat suppressed the urge to squirm under her touch. They’d flirted countless times before, but why did his chest feel so tight when they did so lately?

Trying to compose himself and insert as much confidence as he could into his voice, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very desirable bachelor in my day-to-day life! I happen to have more suitors than I can shake a stick at!”

He’d said it jokingly, expecting to get rebuffed; but Ladybug gave him an exaggerated pout, tapping her mouth with her fingers (a gesture he couldn’t help but follow closely with his gaze).

“Ohh, I see…. Should I be jealous?” she said as she looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Do I have competition?”

Chat reached for her hand, slowly bringing it to his lips with a slight bow. “Never,” he replied, with a bit more conviction and candor than he’d intended. “Nobody could ever hold a candle to you, Milady. Your wit, kindness, and beauty surpasses them all. It is you alone who holds the key to my heart.”

Now it was Ladybug’s turn to get caught off guard. His words were theatrical and over-the-top, as usual; but there was sincerity behind them. There was something about the way he’d said them that made it feel… real. She couldn’t help but shyly look away, her cheeks a bright crimson hue, and she tucked some hair behind her ear as she always did whenever she was flustered or nervous.

“Flatterer,” she said timidly, attempting to deflect the compliment.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he replied with a wink.

Ladybug stared slack-jawed, and could only stutter out an ever so eloquent “I-I-I...” By this point, her entire face was as red as her suit, and she covered her face with both hands in embarrassment. “Chaaaaaaaat!” she cried helplessly in defeat.

Chat let out a hearty laugh, giving her a quick, comforting squeeze. He’d won this round of impromptu chicken. Deciding to have mercy and spare her from any further teasing, he changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s too bad I can’t be the one to drop you off at your house, Bugaboo. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But alas, I’m lacking in the whole ‘majestic white steed’ department,” he remarked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall.

She laughed lightly through her nose. “Well, we’re not exactly your average, run of the mill coupl– uh, partners. Plus, I already know where you live, so that’s easy to do.”

Chat ignored her slip of the tongue, since he didn’t dare to hope for more. At least... not yet.

“That’s for sure,” he replied with a small chuckle. “We’re a rather unique situation. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ladybug leaned next to him against the wall, pressing her back against the cool surface of the bricks as their shoulders bumped.

She hesitated for a few moments, seeming to gather her thoughts. He eyed her curiously, waiting for her to speak her mind.

“So…” she began, looking out into the dark autumn sky. “Which part is true? That you think I’m... beautiful, or that I hold the key to your... t-that I…”

A jolt of lightning traveled down his spine and he stared at her like a kid who’d just broken a window. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out– not even a flustered stammer.

He hadn’t meant to blurt out his feelings so casually a minute ago. In fact, he’d been working on an elaborate speech for when the time was right! It still needed lots of work; he was only on the seventh draft.

He paused to consider. Would it be so bad, though? If he were to confess to her right now?

It wasn’t how he’d planned it. There wasn’t an elegantly decorated rooftop full of roses and strings of lights, or soft romantic music, or any of the other things that would have made it perfect. He was supposed to carry her to a surprise location (bridal-style of course), her lithe arms wrapped around his neck, with a snugly placed blindfold around her eyes to amplify the mystery and anticipation.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d be impressed with his efforts enough to accept his feelings before she could realize that she was too good for him.

Truly his adoration for her knew no bounds. So much so, that he’d asked himself whether it was truly love, or if just an overblown obsession or infatuation.

And yet, he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew she wasn’t perfect. She didn’t need a pedestal. He’d placed her on one when they’d first become allies, but she pulled him up to her level, never allowing him to lower himself or place himself beneath her. She made sure that he always knew he was her equal, and not her subordinate. I mean, how could he not fall in love with her?

So, despite the fact that it wasn’t at all how he planned and he’d suddenly blanked out on his entire speech... he wanted to tell her. Now was as good a time as any.

Ladybug must have sensed the shift in his mood because she recoiled somewhat, jolting away from the brick wall.

She hastily began to backpedal, “N-nevermind, forget I said anything!! Um, anyway, have a good night!”

Chat shook himself out of his daze, then lunged forth to catch her arm as she reached for her yo-yo.

“M-milady, wait!”

She turned to face him, her face full of regret and embarrassment. “S-sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to tease you. Well– I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just–”

“No! N-no, don’t worry, you didn’t. It’s just that I’ve been… wanting to tell you something. Something important.”

He felt her stiffen at his words, and her eyes grew wide with apprehension.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” he tried to reassure her. “Or… at least, I don’t think it’s bad. I mean, I hope it isn’t. To you, that is. What I mean is…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a groan, then let out a nervous, shallow breath.

She quirked her head to the side, as she unknowingly did whenever she was feeling curious or inquisitive. He tried (in vain) to ignore how cute she looked so he could focus on the task at hand.

This is it. You can do it. Be brave like Marinette!! She’d believe in you!

The butterflies in his stomach multiplied tenfold; there was no going back.

And yet... how do you even begin to tell someone that you can’t imagine your life without them? That you’d sacrifice absolutely everything for their happiness; that you’d rather suffer a thousand deaths than to ever see them in pain? That the thought of losing them kept you awake at night more often than you’d like to admit?

How could he put into words that until she came along, he never imagined he’d be able to feel happiness again?

No; words could never suffice. There was nothing he wanted more than to grab his Lady by the waist and give her the most passionate kiss he could muster so that he could show her his love instead.

But he couldn’t. He had to know how she felt in return before he did something that rash, something that could potentially wreck their partnership if his actions were unwelcome.

He didn’t want to ruin anything. He was utterly terrified. And yet… he yearned for her to know.

He had to try. It might be selfish, but he had to tell her how he felt. Just in case she might maybe, possibly, someday, feel the same way.

Ladybug gently touched his forearm, her slender fingers skimming up and down the fabric of his gloves. “Kitty,” she began, concern written all over her face, her piercing sky blue eyes searching his own. “Is everything alright?”

Chat did his best to offer a reassuring smile, placing his opposite hand on top of hers. “I’m fine,” he answered. “I just have a bit of a confession to make.”

Ladybug’s face softened, and she returned a small smile as she waited for him to proceed, still unsure but relieved.

He swallowed thickly, and tried to steady his voice. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long. Well, I mean– technically we’ve known each other for years– but what I mean is that we haven’t really gotten to know each other ‘til recently. Uhh, that is––”

Ladybug gave a small giggle. “It’s okay, Chat. I know what you mean.”

Chat smiled back. “Anyway, I want you to know that our friendship means absolutely everything to me. And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize that, not ever. With that said, I still need you to know that I… that I...” he trailed off, looking away and biting his lip.

A few seconds passed, and he felt Ladybug’s soft hand touch his cheek, which gently turned his head to face her once again.

“Talk to me, Chat. You can tell me anything.”

Those eyes. Those big, gorgeous, absolutely amazing eyes. She was the sun and moon and stars all wrapped up in a tiny, polka-dotted package, and all he could offer her was himself. Was he enough? He silently prayed she hadn’t noticed how much his hands were trembling right now.

“I know I shouldn’t. I don’t know anything about your civilian self. Not really. Where you live, where you go to school, who your friends are. Whether you already have a special someone in your life. Or whether you–” he gulped “–whether you could ever feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

She stepped closer, sliding her hand down his arm and wrapping her fingers around his own (he’d never been as grateful that his suit had gloves as he was now, given how sweaty his palms were at the moment).

“And… how do you feel about me?” she asked, with a– dare he say– hopeful tone in her voice.

Her eyes bore into his own with such intensity and heat that he could no longer feel the chilly night air. He forced himself to hold her gaze, so she could be sure that his words were genuine.

“I wasn’t sure whether I should say anything or if it should wait until after we defeated Hawkmoth. I didn’t know if I was ready to… to open myself up and risk getting hurt in the process. Because I am so, so afraid of losing you.” He bit his lip, but continued, “But I don’t think I can wait that long. You have to know, because I might not get another chance...”

His posture straightened a bit, and he took both her hands into his. (Was it his hands that were still shaking, or hers?)

“I love you,” he finally uttered, his voice husky and low, as if it were a declaration far too sacred for others to hear. He heard her breath catch slightly. “I love you so much, My Lady.” Chat’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he let out a shaky sigh. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. When you’re with me, I can’t help but feel truly happy. Happy to be your teammate, happy to be your friend… happy to be alive. You make me want to become a better person, and I just needed you to know that.”

He shrunk into himself somewhat, taking an unsteady, quivering breath, having expended all his bravery with his proclamation of love.

He’d done it. He’d confessed.

...Now what?

A few moments passed in silence. He bit the inside of his cheek anxiously, unsure of how to continue.

Mayday. Mayday. The hairs in the back of his neck stood up on end; his mind nervous and uncertain.

“A-anyway, that’s all I wanted to say,” he blurted out. “I know it’s a lot to take in; you don’t have to say anything back.” He let go of her hands and crossed his arms, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I’d prefer if you said something back just so I know where we stand, but you definitely don’t have to,” he continued to ramble. “I don’t want it to be awkward or uncomfortable between us, so I won’t mention it ever again if that’s what you want. I’ll always respect your wishes and do what you think is best, ‘cause I have complete faith in you and I–”

His nervous ramblings were cut short by warm, delicate lips delivering a featherlight kiss to his cheek, and Chat let out a small gasp despite himself.

“Was that alright?” she asked, her voice breathy and soft.

Chat practically swooned in disbelief. “More than alright,” he exhaled. “S-so… does that mean that you like m–”

Ladybug stood on her tiptoes and surged forward to capture his lips, answering his question in a way he never would have imagined when he woke up that morning.

There was no way this was actually happening. Was he still breathing?? The girl he loved not only liked him back, but was doing something he’d only ever dreamed about.

He decided to take a chance. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, to which Ladybug responded with a small, surprised moan, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. At some point, his hands had ended up on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, and he was sure she’d be able to feel his heart pounding.

Several blissful moments later, they separated to catch their breath but didn’t pull completely apart. Chat was sure that if he let go of her, he would surely melt into a puddle on the spot.

Ladybug panted lightly. “So… does that answer your question?” she asked, still smiling, her lips almost brushing against his.

Chat cleared his throat, then managed to stammer out in a raspy voice, “Uh, yeah, that works.”

He bent his neck forward so she wouldn’t have to stand on her tiptoes anymore, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes in contentment. Surely this was too good to be true, right?! Was he asleep??

But as always, the overthinker in him struck again and a thought came to him. He furrowed his brow in concern as he became acutely aware of the fact that just because she liked him back didn’t mean she wanted to become anything more than partners. Maybe the kiss was a one-time thing and she wanted to keep things professional? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Why can’t I just be satisfied with what I already have? This is more than I could ever ask for, so why press my luck?

Ladybug, perceptive as ever, noticed his unease.

“What are you thinking about, Chaton?” she whispered with a slight frown.

Deciding to be honest, he loosened his hold on her and stepped back, his jaw tensed. A few thoughtful seconds later, he tried to explain, “I just… What do you want me to be to you? I know we can’t exactly act like a ‘normal’ couple. It’s not like we can go to the movies or amusement parks together, and you can’t exactly take me to your house to meet your parents. So, umm… what happens next?”

Ladybug reached for his hand, squeezing lightly. “If you’re worried that I’m only interested in a fling or a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, I’m not. I don’t know how this is gonna work, and I do want to take things slow, but… you are so special to me, Chat. All I know is that I want you in my life. As more than teammates. Do you want that too?”

“Yes!” Chat exclaimed (a bit more emphatically than he’d intended) and nodded. “I want to make this work! I really do.”

She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb, and he couldn’t help but lean into her caresses. “And, while I don’t think we really need a formal label for what we have, if giving it a name makes you feel better, then… What if we’re ‘dating’? What do you think? Sound good to you?”

Chat grinned, lifting his hand to run it through her long, dark hair. “It’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for,” he replied, completely elated. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.”

She stepped back into his space and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands wander until they settled on the base of his back. And even though he was much larger than her, her hugs always somehow managed to completely envelop him in feelings of safety and comfort.

“You already make me happy, you dork.”

Chat shifted his body so he could make eye contact with his beloved once again. His hand wandered to her jawline, which caused her to shiver with what he hoped was pleasure and anticipation. He made his way down her jaw towards her chin, his movements slow and deliberate, relishing how absolutely beautiful yet adorably shy she appeared in this moment.

Tilting her chin upwards with his forefinger, Chat leaned down and Ladybug’s eyes fluttered shut, her blush still visible under the faint glow of the balcony lights. Chat shut his own eyes in preparation…

...Only to bolt upright in alarm. His ears twitched and he whipped his head around, searching. Without a word, he scooped up Ladybug and bounded up onto the rooftop, landing behind the balcony wall. Ladybug let out a less than dignified “EEP!!”, clinging to him as she was whisked away.

Upon landing, she was about to ask Chat what was going on but he gently placed his finger on her lips. Then he moved it to his own lips, shaking his head. Ladybug understood and nodded. Then they stood there, still as a statue, and waited.

Hinges creaked as the hatch door swung open, and the pair heard someone climb out onto the balcony. Said individual took a deep breath of the fresh evening air, then walked towards the railing to look out into the city.

A few minutes passed, and Chat finally realized the rather intimate position he and Ladybug had put themselves in during their hasty escape. There he stood, back pressed to the wall, with his partner essentially plastered up onto him, their limbs an intertwined mess, leaving not even a sliver of free space between their bodies. Ladybug seemed to realize this at about the same time, and they looked to each other with matching flustered grins, blushing furiously. She made to move away slightly and give him some space—

But her yo-yo had partially unraveled during their clamber onto the roof, and had wrapped around them, becoming tangled in both his cape and his tail. She giggled awkwardly, then began squirming— first lightly, then a bit more vigorously when it became clear that that was ineffective. Chat bit his lip almost painfully, trying very hard not to think about their current situation, lest he unwillingly embarrass himself in a more... somatic way.

A voice cut through the silence of the nighttime air, jolting them to a halt, and they ceased their struggles once again to listen in. Chat twisted his mouth, frowning. He wasn’t normally the type of person who enjoyed eavesdropping; but he didn’t exactly have a choice at the moment.

“What are you doing up here, Tom?” asked the voice of Sabine Dupain-Cheng as she climbed out onto the balcony.

“Oh, nothing. Just, uhh... getting some fresh air. No other reason,” Tom replied, with a tone that wasn’t entirely convincing.

Sabine made her way to stand next to her husband. “You wouldn’t happen to be waiting for a certain housecat to return from the akuma attack that happened earlier tonight, would you?” she asked knowingly.

Tom stammered, “N-no! No, of course not! I’m not waiting for anyone! And I’m certainly not worried! Nope, definitely not worried sick whatsoever; not at all.”

Sabine leaned into him with a playful giggle. “That’s what you say, dear. But I can tell you’re very fond of him.”

“I-I am not!” he sputtered. “I just… wanted to make sure he was going to show up at work tomorrow, that’s all. We have that big shipment of sugar coming in and—umm— my back is sore, so I’ll need the help! Yeah, that’s it. I’m just making sure he acts responsible.” He nodded solemnly, crossing his arms.

On the other side of the wall, Chat couldn’t help but crack a smile at Tom’s poorly-hidden concern. He’d never seen this side of him before, at least not as Chat Noir.

Sabine patted Tom on the back. “Well, you should come back inside. It’s pretty chilly tonight and we can’t have you catching a cold. He’ll be back soon. He’s probably just having some ‘alone time’ with Ladybug.”

Chat and Ladybug practically jumped at this statement, whipping their heads towards each other, then back down at their current predicament. Chat shrugged apologetically with a rather sheepish expression on his face, and it took all of Ladybug’s willpower not to laugh at how cute he looked.

“Hmph. You’re probably right,” they heard Tom say, and then footsteps as the married couple made their way back indoors.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

With that, the balcony hatch closed, and the pair remained still for a few moments to verify that Tom and Sabine wouldn’t come back, in case they’d left anything behind.

Chat was the first to break the silence. “So, uhhh… Now what?”

Ladybug did her best trying to find and figure out where the biggest tangles were, but the range of her movement was quite limited.

“It’s too dark, I can’t see anything,” she replied. “And even if I could, I can’t move my arms much.”

“Same, my arms are pinned down. What should we do?”

Ladybug scrunched her face, deep in thought. A few moments later, her brows raised as an idea came to her.

“Uh… I have an idea, but it’s a bit risky.”

Chat cocked his head to the side with curiosity, waiting for her to elaborate. “Go on.”

“Well, umm… don’t freak, just hear me out. What if we detransformed?”

Chat looked at her like she’d suggested that they throw themselves into an active volcano, and she quickly added, “W-with our eyes closed, that is! That way, we can re-transform and everything will be in its proper place.”

Chat pondered her words. It did seem like the simplest, easiest solution.

“Well… Okay,” he replied. “Let’s do it. I swear I won’t look.”

Ladybug grinned widely at him. “I know. I trust you.”

She leaned into him, placing her head against his chest.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah. Claws in.”

“Spots off.”

A flash of neon green and pink briefly illuminated the rooftop, and then it was dark again.

A detransformed Chat couldn’t help but let out a gasp. This was the very first time he’d ever touched Ladybug without the barriers of their near-indestructible suits. Her shirt was made out of some lightweight fabric, much too thin for this kind of weather, as if she’d been lounging at home when the akuma attack had begun earlier and she’d left her house in a hurry. He took the opportunity to savor this moment, wrapping his arms around his Lady’s shoulders, keeping her close and warm.

His fingers touched something silky and sleek, and he almost gasped again in awe. “Your hair is down,” he uttered, almost too quiet for Ladybug to hear.

He felt her smile against his chest. He took this opportunity to glide his bare hand down her long, thick locks, relishing the feel, knowing he wouldn’t be able to touch her like this again. At least, not for who knows how long. He wished with all his heart they could stay like this forever.

Her body shifted slightly, and a beat later he felt her fingers sneak into his own hair, massaging his scalp in a comical manner.

“If you get to touch my hair, I get to touch yours,” she stated, her voice impish and playful. “Good Lord, what shampoo do you use?! Your hair is so soft!!”

Chat let out a hearty laugh. “I bet we look ridiculous right now, just two people on a roof groping each other’s heads. Good thing it’s too dark to see anything.

Ladybug snickered as she lowered her hands, holding onto him to help keep her balance. The rooftop was relatively flat, but the physical contact made her feel safer regardless. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone could see us if they were to look out their windows; it’s a new moon tonight. But we should still keep our eyes closed, just in case.”

She laid back into him and they embraced in silence, enjoying the calm. His hand traced gentle patterns on her back, and she nuzzled even closer to keep warm.

“Your voice,” Ladybug said, cutting through the stillness.

Chat raised an eyebrow. “Hmm? What about it?”

“It sounds different somehow. Kinda… softer? I dunno,” she said, shrugging slightly.

“Now that you mention it, you sound kind of different too,” he agreed.

The glamour magic must be stronger when they’re transformed, he realized. The magic was still present while in their civilian forms, albeit weaker. Out of costume, Ladybug’s voice sounded more… familiar somehow? He tried not to think about that too much; this wasn’t the time or place.

“D-do you like it?” he added, his tone tentative.

“Yeah!” she blurted out. “I-it’s nice. Really nice. I like it.”

He made a pleased sound, then replied, “And yours is lovely. I can’t wait til I get to hear more of it in the future.”

“Same.” Ladybug let out a long, contented sigh. “We should probably get going. They’re waiting for you inside. But you heard Mr. Dupain-Cheng; he’s most definitely not concerned about you,” she said with a snicker.

Chat busted out laughing. “He’s pretty great. Just cautious, is all.” Then he added jokingly, “He probably doesn’t want to get too attached, just in case I suddenly decide to go on a feral murder spree one day.”

Ladybug blew a raspberry and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Noooooo, I am one hundred percent sure he does not think that! I’m sure he’ll warm up to you in no time!”

“I hope so,” he replied with a chuckle. He hesitated before speaking again. “Umm, Bugaboo… Before we transform back, would it be alright if… if I kissed you again?” Ladybug’s entire body twitched in surprise. “Just once, as our real selves.”

He felt her chest rise and fall as she let out some flustered noises. She managed to settle down a bit, and replied in a hushed voice, “Yeah. Th-that would be nice.”

He moved his hand, blindly feeling around until he found the side of her face. He cupped her cheek with a featherlight touch, his other arm snugly around her waist, keeping her steady. She placed both hands on his chest, craning her neck back, eagerly awaiting what was to come. He lowered his face slowly, to avoid bumping their heads together. Their breaths mingled, shallow and nervous. Their first kiss out of the masks… would it feel any different, he wondered?

Their noses touched, and then—

BONK!

They let out a simultaneous “Ow!” and he had to remind himself to keep his eyes closed in his confusion.

Ladybug reached up to feel his face, then gasped in disbelief.

“Chat! You… you wear glasses!”

He snickered at her surprised reaction. “Is that so shocking? Do you not like glasses?”

She sputtered, “N-no! I mean, yes! I mean, th-that’s not it. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all!”

Chat couldn’t help himself. “So would you say that you made a… spectacular discovery?” he said cheekily.

Ladybug let out a long, exaggerated groan at the pun as she plopped her head onto his chest, causing him to break into a barely-contained giggle fit.

“My soul just died a little from that terrible joke,” she croaked out.

“I apologize; that’s just how eye roll!”

Ladybug made an even more dismayed sound that resembled a deflating balloon, which only made Chat crack up even harder.

“You’re soooo awwwwfuuul,” she groaned, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Here,” he said, sliding his glasses off his nose and onto the top of his head, resting just above the hairline. “Now they’re out of the way.”

“Good,” Ladybug giggled. “Because I’d really like to try again.”

He chuckled, angling his head down. “Whatever My Lady desires,” he replied, more than happy to comply.

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Marinette glided across her bedroom, half-dancing, half-skipping, humming along to the music coming from her computer while she brushed her teeth. She paused to pick up her mannequin, spinning it around as if dancing with an imaginary partner.

“Marinette, you probably shouldn’t do that with a toothbrush in your mouth,” Tikki advised, though an amused smile tugged at her mouth.

“Hnn-kay,” Marinette replied with a giggle, setting down the mannequin, then made her way to the sink to finish up her bedtime routine.

When she was done, she walked over to where Tikki was resting at the desk, in a little handmade bed that could pass for a stylish pin-cushion or phone rest.

“Ready for bed?” she asked in a chipper voice, scooping up the kwami into her hands then heading up to her loft bed.

Tikki snickered at her charge’s excitement. This was definitely one of her favorite parts of mentoring a Ladybug. “Today was a good day for you, wasn’t it, Marinette?”

“Gosh, you can say that again!” she replied, voice high and giddy. “I just can’t believe it, Tikki! It feels like things just keep getting better and better. Now I get to plan our dates, gifts, anniversary milestones–”

Tikki raised a brow. “Uhh… Marinette, what happened to ‘taking things slow’?”

The girl pouted. “I am taking it slow! It’s not like I’m planning our wedding or anything!” The kwami rolled her eyes fondly in response.

Marinette set Tikki down on the pillow next to hers and flopped down stomach first. She turned around, still holding the pillow, and screeched happily into it, kicking her legs into the air. Tikki couldn’t help but giggle.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep with all this excitement?” she asked.

Marinette turned off the lights and snuggled under her blankets, squeezing her giant cat plushie.

“Yep! Boy, am I beat! I’m totally gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

Tikki smiled warmly. “Great to hear. Good night, Marinette.”

Marinette let out a long yawn and rubbed the top of Tikki’s head with her finger. “G’night, Tikki.” ------

(Mood Music: The Lonely - Christina Perri)

This was most certainly not a good night. Marinette’s bleary eyes glanced over at the clock next to her bed.

3:00 AM, it said.

She groaned inwardly. She’d woken up about an hour ago and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, despite being completely bushed.

Something just felt… off. Her stomach was churning and her skin felt like pins and needles. Should she check to make sure the front door is locked? Did she forget to do any homework? Was there a test tomorrow in one of her classes? She just couldn’t think of anything that would require her attention. Why was she feeling so stressed?? Frustration had set in, and she dreaded having to go to school tomorrow (or rather, later today, in a few hours’ time).

Maybe she just needed some water to calm down her nerves. Because that’s clearly what it was, right? Just some subconscious anxiety, maybe about the future, or getting into a good university, or having to defeat Hawkmoth.

Well… when put in that way, she supposed there were a few rather stressful things happening in her life. But even still! She hardly ever had a hard time sleeping before, because she was always exhausted!

She slowly scooted out of the bed, careful not to wake Tikki, and climbed down from her loft. Letting out a lengthy yawn, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Maybe that would help settle her stomach.

And yet somehow, now that she was here, the uneasy feeling intensified.

What the hell?!

The last time she'd felt this kind of unexplained restlessness and malaise was when…

...When she’d found Chat in that alley after his confrontation with Hawkmoth.

Panic sunk into her gut and she bolted towards Chat’s bedroom. She reached the door and was about to burst inside, but she paused. Maybe stampeding into someone’s room uninvited while they were asleep was a bad idea. Not wanting to wake him up, but not willing to leave until she was sure of his safety, she instead crouched and placed her ear against the door.

Expecting to hear nothing except maybe some light snoring, Marinette’s eyes widened when instead she heard whimpering and sobbing. Needing no further invitation, she entered the room.

Chat was curled up in a fetal position facing away from the door, shaking and crying. It was too dark to see clearly, but she could tell he wasn’t transformed.

Is he upset? Is he sick??

She called his name with a small voice, “Chat Noir?”

The panting and sobbing continued, getting stronger and stronger with each second that passed.

“Chat, what’s the matter?” She sat on the bed and placed her hand on his back. The fabric of his shirt clung to his skin; his body was drenched in sweat.

Again, there was no response. By this point he began to toss and turn, almost thrashing in distress and terror.

He’s still asleep, Marinette realized.

“Chat, wake up!” she cried, shaking him vigorously, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. “Kitty, please! Wake up!”

He turned towards her, hair covering his face and sticking to the damp skin, and she had to force herself to not look at him directly to keep his identity a secret.

Seemingly out of nowhere, he surged forward, seizing her by the upper arms, his grip tight as a vise, and Marinette cried out in surprise.

His head hung down, and he sobbed as he squeezed even harder, “No! I won’t do it! I won’t hurt them! You can’t force me!”

She ignored the pain in her arms and called, “Chat! Please wake up! It’s me, Marinette!”

“No!! I’ll never hurt Marinette! Not ever!” he cried in a quivering, desperate voice; then he groaned and hissed in pain, in a way she could only describe as the sound of someone being tortured.

“I’m here, Chat! Marinette is here! You’re safe at home! You’re having a nightmare! Open your eyes!”

He seemed to respond slightly, his hold on her slackening somewhat, and she took this chance to slip completely out of his grip. She threw her arms around his shoulders and he seemed to go limp. She whispered into his ear, “Shhh… It’s just me… You’re okay… you’re safe now. Everything is going to be fine. I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid...” She began to rub his back, making long strokes up and down his torso, hoping that touch would help to awaken him.

Her calm reassurances and rubbing of his back continued until Chat’s hyperventilating stopped, and he slowly seemed to come to. He let out a shocked gasp and threw his arms around her.

“M-Marinette?! Marinette!! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried, and she felt fresh tears drip onto her sleeve.

She cradled the back of his head. “Chat! Why in the world are you apologizing?!”

“For everything. For being so weak. For being nothing but trouble for you ever since I came into your life. I never meant for all this to happen. It would’ve been easier for you if you’d left me in that alley that first night. It would’ve been easier for you if you hated me, just like everyone else.”

“Minou, I could never hate you,” she reaffirmed fervently, which only made him sniffle harder. “No matter what you’ve done or what mistakes you’ve made, you are deserving of love. You’re a good person, and more people love you than you might think. Things will get better. I promise.”

She held him as he continued to cry quietly, the pair still wrapped in each others’ arms in the otherwise silent darkness.

After a while, she dared to ask, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but… How often do you have these kinds of dreams?”

She felt him hesitate, unsure of whether he should divulge this information; but a few seconds later, he relented, and answered in a small voice, “I’ve had vivid nightmares every night for as long as I can remember, ever since I became Chat Noir. But I haven’t had one this bad since before I moved in with you guys. And… I’ve always been able to wake up on my own.”

“Oh, Minou…” she lamented, then kissed the top of his head.

He sniffled a little, rubbing her arm up and down gently in silent apology. “Marinette, I’m sorry to ask, but… c-could you stay? Just for a little longer? I-I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, Minou. I can stay.”

“Oh, Mari… I was so scared,” he cried. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

She closed her eyes so she could lower her head and kiss his forehead, barely able to contain her affection for him; immensely relieved that he’d finally calmed down. They situated themselves in the bed, arranging themselves into a position that would be comfortable for them both, and she was careful to avoid looking directly at him. He nuzzled into her, hugging her waist, and thanked her quietly. She ran her fingers through his still slightly damp hair, hoping to help him get as relaxed as possible.

Before long, she noted that his breathing had finally slowed, and she was content to watch his torso rise and fall in a tranquil rhythm until, eventually, she too was lulled into a restful slumber.

Meanwhile, outside the slightly ajar guest bedroom door, a certain baker pursed his lips in dismay... and regret.

------

Discordant Sonata Music Youtube Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcYhk0HianmrUJWi61Hkbux08qc9oCTdB

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Marichat #Chat Noir #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Ladybug #Enemies AU #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #Eden writes #aged up #ML AU

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evilwickedme · 3 years

Text

ok so to sum up my feelings for leverage: redemption, season 1(a): (long post warning, there’s a tl;dr at the end)

I knew that Hardison wouldn’t be in most of the season due to Aldis Hodge being a busy bee nowadays, but I didn’t realize that meant he’d only be around for the first two episodes. He was sorely missed, not only because of my attachment to him, but also because he’s usually the grounding factor in the group dynamic, and his role as info guy and tech guy was split evenly between two characters who had their own issues.

That said, Hardison is absolutely a highlight of the two episodes he’s in. his speech about redemption was everything I could’ve hoped for (plus, more evidence for the Jewish!Hardison pile...). I wish we’d gotten to see more of his dynamic with Breanna because what we saw was funny and sweet and we don’t generally get to see Hardison taking care of somebody who so desperately needs taking care of. I hope that Aldis Hodge is around for more episodes in 1(b), because what we’re left with feels a little hollow.

Sticking to original leverage characters for now, for the most part the leverage crew still felt true to the original series as characters, even if the show itself was a little bit confused at times. The actors understand their characters and embody them so well that I think one could give them the trashiest script ever and they’d still sell it. Sophie is a particular focus in 1(a) because of Nate’s death, and she’s particularly well written as a result.

That said, I’m super bitter that we saw little to no mastermind!Parker. Parker’s character being given the mastermind role was a big deal and it feels like they’re walking it back because they feel uncomfortable with it. It is eventually given an in-text excuse, but literally in the last episode, and it was not a particularly convincing reason, and in fact contradicted moments from previous episodes (Sophie leaving for a client meeting and ignoring Parker in ep3 comes to mind). It’s frustrating, it makes the end of the original leverage feel pointless, and letting Parker make a decision once in a while is not the same thing at all. The original series repeatedly showed us that while everyone in the team had their strengths, Parker works problems and solves them in unique, interesting ways, and other characters’ days in the limelight tended to be comedic or even failures. It’s a broken promise, and a pretty major broken promise at that.

On a more positive note, Parker’s dynamic with literally everyone was fantastic. She’s possibly the best written character this season. They’ve taken the autism out of the subtext and into the text (although obviously still undiagnosed), and given her coping mechanisms that were taken seriously in the text even when they were played for laughs, which I appreciated. Her attempts to mentor Breanna were sweet, her friendship with Sophie was electric and at times (CRIMES) hilarious, and as usual, she has a fantastic dynamic with Eliot that makes my heart burst. If you don’t think they’re romantically involved, at least acknowledge there’s a life partnership here. They’ve spent the last decade together.

(We’ll get to Harry.)

Eliot isn’t given much arc-wise, which is frustrating since he’s my favorite. He’s being presented as the goal at the end of a redemption arc, ie to keep working at it every day until your soul heals or whatever, and it doesn’t reflect the message they’re trying to convey via Hardison’s speech and our two new characters. He’s got his moments, but I think they under utilized his potential.

Breanna!!! Breanna’s my new favorite, except for Eliot. She’s hilarious, she’s insecure, she’s nerdy and excited in a way that’s similar to Hardison but still distinct in its inherent teenage-girl-ness and I LOVE IT. Unlike the previous series, where Hardison’s “age of the geek” was often a joke played on Hardison, we’re at the point where Eliot and Parker are both right there with him, and so they accept and even appreciate Breanna’s nerdiness. Also, canon gay character? In YOUR Leverage? It’s more likely than you think.

(No, I never thought they’d make ot3 canon on screen. I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.)

I think Breanna’s the character that will be the most interesting to see grow. She’s got a lot of potential and a list of crimes a mile long (or more). I adore her with all my heart. I want to see her tiktok account.

Harry. Oh, Harry.

It took me a while, but I do like Harry. It took a while, because the narrative positioned him at the same level as Nate back in episode 1 of original Leverage. But in episode 1 we didn’t know the other characters. We had Nate as the POV character, and so we cared about him because we were seeing the world through his eyes. (This is TV Studies 101. I know this, because I took TV Studies 101 in 2019.) In Leverage: Redemption, we no longer have a POV character, for several reasons:

Nate, previously the POV character, is dead.

As it is, by mid-season 3 of leverage Nate was no longer a POV character. This is, coincidentally, the point where the leverage writers realized they had four other characters in the main cast they could do something with, and in-universe, Nate accepted that he was a thief, not a special Good Man.

Sophie is sort of a POV character for the first episode of the revival, but only for the first few minutes. Afterwards, the series settles into the groove of seasons 3-5, i.e., the entire crew is our POV. We know our crew, and we love them as is.

Narratively, however, Redemption insists on positing Harry as the POV character, because it is his redemption we are pursuing most vehemently. And I think they really relied on us already knowing the actor - I’ve never seen him in anything before, so to me he was a completely fresh face and they put almost no effort into selling him to me. Beyond being competent and consistently mildly baffled by the antics of the leverage crew, I honestly don’t know who this man is by the end of EIGHT episodes with him. I have a much better handle on Breanna by the end of 1(a), and I can tell you I knew all five of the original leverage crew better by the end of the first episode of the original series than I do Harry. What’s the name of his daughter, John Rogers. Is he still married. How old is the daughter. Why is none of this worth mentioning. Give him a sense of humor that isn’t reacting to other people’s shenanigans. I’m so frustrated. It’s bad writing.

I did manage to grow to like Harry by the end, but I’m pretty sure this is down to Noah Wyle’s charismatic portrayal of an under-developed character, at least partially. And I never stopped being frustrated at not knowing who this man is at all.

The two highlights of the season are undoubtedly episodes five and six. Episode five was the first time I felt like the episode was more than a collection of good moments between the main cast and mediocre moments between the main cast and also the main plot. The issues with pacing and tone that I suffered through for most of the season were mostly non-existent in ep5 and 6, and at least in episode 5 I attribute that to the pared down cast. They had time to focus not only on our actual characters - Sophie, Parker, Breanna - but also on the case. This is the only client from 1(a) I am going to remember next week without googling it first, mark my words.

Episode six worked for the exact opposite reason - it completely disregarded the client and plot and immersed itself in the characters. Breanna gets a moment to shine, but everybody else gets their bits and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the script that was most fun to write. The characters felt natural, real, and captured the found-family dynamic that’s been missing all season for the first time.

While episode 2 is the weakest episode, I don’t actually have much to say about it. I am disappointed in episode 8. For a mid-season finale, I really expected them to do something. Instead, it was an episode about Nate Ford that copped out of being about Nate Ford (both with fake-Nate and with the new version of him being relayed to us). I would have told the writers to give that energy back to episode 1 and write an episode that’s about anybody who isn’t Harry, oh my God. I know I said I grew to like him but so many episodes were about Harry. He’s the newbie! Why didn’t Hardison get an episode that was actually about him, considering he was only around for two episodes? Why does Eliot have to be the butt of the joke when the theme of the series should directly tie back to him in a much more meaningful way? The last episode parodies their own tagline by saying Eliot isn’t just a hitter, but it deftly avoids noticing that they’ve turned him into nothing more than very muscly comic relief, including in that very episode!

Also, I hated the Marshal. Eliot actively looked uncomfortable around her.

tl;dr

The season took a while, that’s definitely true. But it did find its footing eventually, and by the halfway mark of 1(a) it finally felt cohesive again. The characters were played fantastically even when they weren’t well-written, and if nothing else, the humor landed every time. It still has its kinks and problems to work out, but if you look at it as a brand new show rather than a continuation of one that went off the air over eight years ago, it’s actually doing rather well. I’m choosing to judge it in both lights - according to its own standards, it establishes its identity in episode five; according to Leverage standards, it establishes its connection to its roots in episode six. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed 1(a), and continue to have high hopes for 1(b).

fic writing will commence in three, two, one...

#leverage #leverage meta #leverage redemption #leverage ot3 #parker leverage #alec hardison #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #breanna casey #harry wilson #mine

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Twin Snowflakes part 25: Date Night pt2

Atlas, city of dreams. It was a name post people overlooked and even more scoffed at. Still, it was a little hard not to believe the title from the way it looked; especially with the hundreds of lights illuminating the snow covered city. Veronica was no stranger to Atlas at night but she still couldn’t help but marvel at the sights passing by her window. They were almost as charming as the boy sitting next to her in the backseat, almost. Her mind still couldn’t believe this was happening. Veronica was going on a dinner date with Nick. How did that happen!? Well...she knew how it happened but it was still crazy! The situation wasn’t ideal but Veronica wasn’t exactly upset about it. Not in the way she had shown earlier. Veronica simply wished this event happened as a result of her efforts more than Valerie’s mistakes. Then again, all’s fair in love and war. If Valerie was going to be childish enough to hurt Nick, then that was all the more reason for Veronica not to pull her punches in winning him over. Not that she ever did, for the most part.

She looked over at Nick to see him sinking into his seat, eyes closed and body relaxed. “He must be more exhausted than he let on. She thought, listening to his breathing. He must’ve sensed Veronica’s gaze on him because his eyes opened seconds later. He caught the girl off guard by turning to her and smiling gently.

“Something on my face?” He asked.

His voice was a little deeper than before because of his short rest. The change made Veronica a little timid. “Uhh no. Hehe, your face is fine!” She uttered terribly. A snicker from Winter upfront made Veronica turn a little red. Her ears fell down as she realized how dumb that sounded. “I mean there’s nothing on it. That’s what I…yeah.” She really wanted to stop talking.

Nick sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry I drifted a bit. I took a nap when I got home but I guess I was a little more spent than I realized.”

“No worries. A smooth ride puts me to sleep all the time. If you don’t mind me asking, where did you go? Back at the manor your mom said you went to go talk to someone?”

“Oh, that…” he looked in the rear view mirror to look at Winter, who looked back at with a smile.

“The lady asked you a question. Don’t mind me. It honestly isn’t as big of a deal as you think Nicholas. No need to tiptoe around it with your mother, uncle, and I. We’re adults after all.”

“I know. I just...I don’t know, feel a little guilty if I wasn’t careful about it.”

“You are just fine.” Winter reassured him. “To answer your question Veronica, Nicholas likes to visit his grandparents' graves to pay respects and ponder.”

Her ears perked up. This was news to her. Well, not entirely. She had known Nick liked to pray. He’s done it for as long as she could remember. Anytime things were rough or really important, Nicholas could be found giving a small payer. It was only later did she put together that the habit must’ve been formed during his sister’s time in the hospital. Though not religious in the slightest, Veronica could understand praying in a situation like that, but for his grandparents…?

“That’s a little strange, considering you never met either and one of them wasn’t exactly…” She wanted to pick her words carefully but it was hard not to call Jacques a piece of shit. “Let’s just call your grandfather a not so good influence.”

“Heh, that’s certainly putting it lightly.” Nick chuckled, “I guess I do it because...I’m a hit afraid. For me, I can’t imagine anything worse than passing away and the people left behind, the world, it just forgets about you; as if you had no impact on life. I wouldn’t wish that fate on even my enemies. Also, my grandfather’s wrongdoings in a weird way made my mom the person she’d be to have me and Summer.” He smiled at his own weird logic. “Gotta at least be thankful for that, right?”

His reasonings were flawed in some manner but completely understandable to Veronica. “Same rules apply to your grandmother?”

“More or less. I know it’s a little odd.”

“Yeah but it’s also very much a thing you’d do. Always trying to bring someone peace, it’s like your day job at this point.”

Nick shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

Winter began pulling over to the curbside, finally reaching their destination. A well known set down restaurant called Blended, known for its many different cuisines that specialized in ingredients that involved purée styled cooking; hence the name. Winter watched Nick get out of the car to escort Veronica, only for the girl to playfully roll her eyes as she got out of the car by herself.

“Well at least she’s consistent with her spunky attitude.” Winter thought, actually approving of the act. “You two be safe. Nick, don’t give your mother a heart attack.”

“How would I? This is just dinner, not a battlefield.”

“Knowing you, anything could happen.” She gave a little smirk before leaving them to ponder that diss.

Nick was both flattered and insulted. “Anyways…” he held his arm out which Veronica happily grabbed. The two went off to make their reservation. Tonight was going to be nice. Like Nick said, it’s just dinner. What could happen? The inside of the restaurant blew Veronica away. Elegant marble tile, pearl white cloths over the table, mood lighting,crystal chandeliers scattered about like if they were as cheap as lightbulbs, and the most divine scents imaginable. They had only entered the front door and yet her nose could pick out an array of ingredients in the kitchen. Veronica hadn’t seen the menu but she already knew there was gonna be a steak in front of her before this night was over.

“You know my opinion of Atlas might actually go up depending on this food?”

Nick chuckled at her comment and went towards the counter where a blonde woman in a waitress outfit stood at the ready. “Hello. Schnee, reservation for two. The usual spot please.”

“Why of course Mr. Sch-” the waitresses eyes quickly caught attention to Nicholas’s plus one. “Umm, Mr.Schnee? You know we actually may have a table on the private upper level if you like?” She said with a smile, maintaining eye contact with him.

“No thank you. Too close to the smoking area. I’ll take my normal table, the one by the window.” He said calmly. Nick took a moment to look at her name tag. He hadn’t seen this one before. “Sophia, that’s a nice name.”

Worry crept up on the corners of the waitress’s smile. “If smoke is the issue then may I recommend-”

“Sophia.” He said again. “Is there a reason in particular that I can’t have my window seat?”

“Well...it’s...just….” she fidgeted her hands, doing her best to not look at Veronica and cause a scene. “.....Right this way sir.” Sophia grabbed two menus and quickly went to lead them before Veronica put a hand on the menus. “M-Ma’am?” She stuttered.

Veronica wanted a good look at her but the waitress would barely meet her eyes. All Veronica could get was a side glance and a worked up heartbeat. “Nick, what do you usually drink?”

“Uhhh apple cider?”

Veronica took the menus out of Sophia’s hands. “Cool. Sophia, he’ll have that and I’d like water. Seeing how it’s a usual spot we’re going, Nick could just lead me himself. Thank you. Nick, if you would?” Veronica said, grabbing his arm.

“Okaaaay?” Nick didn’t question her orders. He grabbed the menus from her and walked through the restaurant. It was past the time most ate, but several clanging plates nearby told him there were a few late customers; about three people every five tables or so. Seeing them was easy even with dim lighting, but that also meant they saw him. A few looked up before continuing their meals while others stared for a couple seconds, forcing him to awkwardly wave as he went by.

“Sorry, usually it’s emptier by now. I come at this time to avoid drawing attention of people who always got a thing or too to say about the Schnees”

“Or the company they keep…” Veronica added. Their table was on the right side a little more than half way towards the back, right next to a window that showed the snowy streets and dazzling lights. A real winter wonderland sight. No wonder Nick liked this spot. She finally sat down. “By any chance do you know the owner of the restaurant?”

“Dyle, what about him?” He opened his menu and began reading.

“That waitress felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. She really didn’t want us sitting here too. Care to guess why?” Veronica reached over and pressed the menu down with a finger, making sure that Nick saw her ears wiggle. “This is why I wanted a bow.”

“Point taken, but I remember saying screw anyway that has a problem with you. I’ve never known Dyle to have a problem with faunus by the way.”

“Was that because he showed that he didn’t or because you just weren’t paying attention?” Vee noticed the waitress walk over. Sophia once again avoided her gaze, in favor of Nick’s. She also made sure to place Veronica’s water on the table but handed the cider to Nick directly.

“Ready to order?” She asked.

Nick had noticed the treatment of the drinks and had been aware of the eye contact. He only wanted a little time to think about everything as a whole. He didn’t have Veronica’s hearing but he did notice the paleness of her skin. “Are you well?”

“H-Huh?”

“You’re pale. Sick, or spooked by anything?”

“Oh, I’m fine…” The woman fidgeted. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Sophia quickly left the table.

At the same time, Veronica took a sip of Nick’s cider. “Well at least this place has good drinks. Be sure to ask for a second. I’d ask myself but you know, playing things safe around our jumpy friend.”

“Yeah….” Nick flipped through another page. “So there’s either one of two things happening right now. One, our waitress is scared of you, or-”

“A certain somebody wouldn’t want her serving us. Me, is what I should actually say. Gee, I wonder who?”

Nick couldn’t deny this was odd. “Again, point taken. However, it would be weird how many times Dyle has served my family, who actively promotes faunus rights. We’ve held meetings with your mother here before and other faunus.”

Vee always loved Nick’s simple logic, but boy was it not doing him any favors tonight. “Lesson time, my dear knight. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt of you not thinking critically with how tired you are at the moment.” Vee propped her arm on the table and rested her head in her palm. “We aren’t our parents. We’re just their brats. Adults know better than to pick on the pups when they’re around their source of income. Also, how many of those meetings were in perfect view from the street?”

Nick paused for a moment, then looked at the view. “.....None.” He closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself. “They’re up top and away from prying eyes.

“Out of sight, out of mind. Out of the way of any potential customers who may think twice of entering. Translation, private seating is a sweet way of saying it’s embarrassing to have you front and center.”

“Veronica, I didn’t-”

“Mr. Schnee!” A jolly voice called.

The teens looked to the side to see a husky redheaded man in a chef’s uniform and a hat as big as his handlebar mustache.

“Dyle.” Nick said, noticing Sophia turning ghost white a few feet behind him.

“How is the young heir on this fine night!? Craving our pastries again I bet! Oh ho ho ho!” The man patted his stomach at his one witty remark. His olive colored eyes shifted to Veronica. “My, my, where are my manners!? I’m Head Chef Dyle! Clearly Nicholas forgot his manners too for not introducing his partner in crime this lovely night. Though I guess there’s little need whenever you have credibility among the higher class? That and those lilac eyes, I’ve served a few times in the form of one fiery huntress who loves my steak! I assume your-”

“Yes, I’m her kid. To what do we owe the pleasure of the head chef himself coming to greet us?” Veronica said, hiding her attitude with fake jolliness.

“One of my little worker bees had told me one of my favorite customers was here yet again. Imagine my surprise to see him without his typical plus one. I tell you, that Valerie sure can eat until I feel a hole in my wallet! Ho! Ho! Ha! I crack myself up. Have you met her.”

“Occasionally. Sports art my thing. More of a cooking contest watcher myself. When I realized I get to try your steak I nearly jumped for joy!”

“Why thank you! Nicholas my boy, you sure bring a surprise each and every time, but you should know better. A table in the back near this drafty window at this time of year, and at night! Up your game. I’d be more than happy to let you two enjoy the comfiest seat in the building. Nothing sets the tone like the second floor. I can get you a private table right this second!”

If that wasn’t a slap in the face, then Nick didn’t know what was. Has this really gone over his head? Nick wanted to believe this was a classic case of misunderstanding, yet that felt inn accurate the longer Veronica looked at him. There was no anger, only a reserved look that poorly hid the fact she was uncomfortable. Nick stopped feeling sorry for himself, choosing to do what his family did best; put on the face that commanded respect. The face of Atlas’s most powerful family.

“Dyle?” Nick spoke, dragging out the chef’s name like a sigh of boredom. Nick focused one the menu in his hands while giving the man an occasional glance with only his eyes. “Do you know why I come here? I’ll give you a hint.” He tapped on the window.

“The...view-”

“Nope.” Nick said firmly, closing his menu. “It’s the view and the respect I believed this place had for its customers. All of its customers, but tonight is making me think I believed wrong. You’ve never been this insistent whenever Valerie and I ate here. I gotta say I’m a bit concerned. Between your behavior and our waitress, I can’t help but feel like this has everything to do with my lovely date and her perfect features.”

“Perfect.” Veronica thought, bashfully folding her ears.

“Dyle, am I correct to reevaluate my beliefs in this restaurant. No lying now. I want your honest answer.”

The jolly man wasn’t feeling so jolly anymore. Dyle’s smile turned into grimace teeth and panicked eyes. “N-No! it’s just...just!” He looked around and through the window for any watchful eyes. “It’s business. Your family should understand th-”

“My family is no longer in the business of just caring about good business. Fail to understand that and you won’t have to worry about yours.” Nick stood up and finally looked at the giant of a man as best he could. He could see it, the resentment and frustration building within the chef. By all means who wouldn’t be upset when against a member of the most dangerous family name, blatantly throwing power around like if it actually earned. Nick understood the look. If Whitley taught him anything, it was that look does nothing but keep the hate alive. Flex power, but wield it generously.

“Dyle, I will choose to believe you are in fact a good man.”

“W-What?” He said, caught off guard by the tone shift.

“If this is strictly business then we’ll treat it like so. Now there isn’t any scenario where I don’t get what I want, but I’m more than happy to get what we all want. The first thing is you apologizing to Veronica. After that you will tell all your staff to refrain from enforcing whatever faunus rules you have given them; followed by creating the best steaks you can ever create for this table. Your work won’t be done though. I do expect a dessert that will blow our mind. It is only after creating such a grand meal with your hands that you can rest easy knowing that it will have a fairly generous contribution to its stability. Indefinitely.”

“You’re...going to invest here?”

Nick sat back down. “That depends on you. A pretty decent offer I’d say. Equality and a good meal in an exchange for financial stability. Is that good with you Veronica?”

“Hmmmm, I say we should sweeten our pot. An easy fix with an official change in this place's mission statement as a public service. One that states on paper that this restaurant is for all. This isn’t a compromise.”

Nick smiled. “You heard the lady. Is it a deal?”

Dyle stood, confused by the offer. By all means it was not expected or heard of. “So this is how a Schnee conducts business now?”

“This is how I do business.”

“Hmph! Then I guess it’s fortunate you have deep enough pockets to back it up.” The man removed his chef’s hat and bowed. “Please excuse my blatant disrespect, Mrs. Belladonna.”

“Apology not accepted, but a deal is a deal and who am I to not capitalize on it for my people? Just keep your end of the bargain and I’m satisfied.”

“Ma’am.” Dyle rose from his bow, swiftly exiting to the kitchen. Veronica took a sigh of relief. Finally the man was gone. Any longer and she would’ve said something worth being glared at.

“Sorry about all of this.” Nick said with a guilty look. “Didn’t expect this level of confrontation tonight. Here I was thinking I was taking you to a stress free spot in Atlas.”

“I don’t see why you’re apologizing. After all, you are the one who told me not to hide my ears. Screw what others think, remember?” Veronica gave him a comforting smile before getting another sip of his cider. “The occasional loudmouth or prejudiced jerk is nothing new. Still… thanks for sticking up for me. It’s usually me being the mouthpiece for others or myself. It’s nice not taking the lead.”

Nick propped his head up on his right hand “Glad to be of service.”

“I can see that. How’d you know the waitress was being forced and not racist herself?”

“I’ve never met my grandfather, but his handy work I’m too familiar with.” Nick said, staring out the window.

Veronica could tell she had walked onto a sensitive subject. Between him trying to avoid talking about the grave in front of his family, it was easy to understand what he meant. She wouldn’t press the issue any further. Now wasn’t the time to get heavy. “You know if you keep looking out the window like that, I might just faint from your handsomeness.”

Nick’s face turned red. He whipped his head around to see his date smirking at him. “Oh why you gotta tease me like that!? It’s embarrassing.”

Veronica could only giggle as the flustered boy did his best to hide his face. “That’s more like it. Just keep smiling for me. That’s all I need.”

xxxxx

While a dinner date had begun in the city, a house breakout had started half an hour later. Schnee Manor had gone quiet. Dinner had ended long ago and all adults had retired to their room. Summer couldn’t ask for more. The young huntress in training double checked her supplies before making the great escape. Black wig? check. Favorite pair of ripped jeans with a nice leather jacket; check and check. She put her guitar case on her back and looked in the mirror.

“And mom said no good would come from mentioning Bleiss? Well...I am sneaking out, so I guess she had a point.” Summer left her room and began carefully walking through the halls with her boots in hand. Can’t be too careful. Even the finest houses can creak. Thanks to Nick being out, the alarm wasn’t on. Escaping would be cake walk. All she had to do was pick an exit that wouldn’t be seen or heard. Pesky cameras and windows made that a bit more of a challenge.

“Mom and dad and probably still catching up with Blake and Yang, so I should probably leave through the-”

“Beautiful night for an escape.”

Summer whipped her head around to see Blake looking at her, arms folded and smiling. Summer’s face went pale. “Es-Escape!? Me!? No...I was just….”

Blake raised her eyebrow. “Just…?”

“Esssscaping- yeah I was escaping.” Summer held her head down in defeat. She really needed to get better under pressure. “How did you know?”

“I heard the sound of glyphs earlier when you said you were eating. Multiple glyphs, launching something outside and around the house. You know it might’ve been less suspicious if you decided to grab whatever you needed, and haul it back to your room normally? No way Yang or I would know if it’s out of the ordinary.”

“Hindsight isn’t always 20/20. Plus I like plans. This one appears to be a bust though.”

“Not exactly. I won’t tell if you won’t.” Blake winked.

Summer’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? You’re okay with me sneaking out.”

“It won’t earn me any warm feelings with Weiss but it’s clear to everyone in and out of this house that you need an outlet. I do have some conditions however.”

Summer squinted. Now she knew where Veronica got her deal making skills from. “I’m listening.”

“First, cut your parents some slack and go to school every day until after the tournament. I heard you’ll fail otherwise.”

“Ugh, why does everyone want me to- okay, fine. I was planning on it anyway. Next one?”

“Please try and be Veronica’s friend.”

“I’m sorry, did you ask me the impossible?” Summer said, making Blake frown. “What!? It’s the truth. Friendship is a two way street and both lanes are closed.

“Listen, I know my daughter hasn’t been the nicest to you, and I know what I’m asking is completely selfish. However, I’m asking anyway. Maybe if she had actual friends to open up to, then things wouldn’t be so bad for her.” Blake sighed.

“Are you trying to tell me Mrs. Fashion designer with perfect skin doesn’t have a line of people trying to rub elbows with her?”

“Hehe, you’d be surprised… Besides, I figured you would know first hand people like that aren’t exactly friend material, Mrs. Teen Idol.”

Summer bit her lip. “Fair point, got me there.” She folded her arms and began tapping her foot. Blake meant well, but it really felt like she was asking Summer to move a mountain. Especially after the forest incident. “Really twisting my arm here.”

“Could you at least make a strong attempt? You both will be spending more time together after all.”

“Hmmm, fine.”

Blake squinted, “Strong attempt, Summer.”

“I heard you.” Summer turned her head away like the snooty rich girl regular folk saw her as. “Is that all?”

“One more thing.” Blake walked up to the young girl and placed her hands on Summer’s shoulders. “Never forget you’re not alone.”

“.....Yes ma’am. Thanks, I mean it.”

Blake rubbed Summer’s head. She’s grown since the last time they met, yet still oh so small. Not to mention a bit frail. Summer may have looked like her mother but Blake could see how much more gentle she was in comparison. Not that Weiss wasn’t a softie in her own right, but she also had an uncompromising defiance. Blake didn’t see that in Summer. Her defiance by all means could be compromised. With any luck and help, it wouldn’t be. “Okay, I’ve held you hostage long enough. Have fun and be safe. I’ll feel guilty otherwise.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be at my home away from home. If I don’t get lost in the music then I’ll definitely be back before midnight.”

“And if you do get lost in the music?”

“Make sure the bathroom window in the third hall downstairs is unlocked. Sneaking is easier at ground level. Bye now.”

Summer gave Blake a hug then rushed off out of sight. Blake couldn’t help but sigh. “Oh boy, maybe I’m the softie?”

xxxx

“Nick?”

“H-huh!?” The boy shook himself out of his daze. Veronica chewed another slice of steak while giving Nick a look of concern. Nick quickly tried to snap back to reality. “Something wrong with steak?”

“Oh something is definitely wrong, but not with the steak.” Veronica took a sip of her third cup of cider. “Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong? Nick you’ve been spacing out more and more ever since we got our entrees. Is a twin thing happening that I’m not aware of?”

“What? Oh, no, no it’s nothing like that. Sorry I’m just more out of it than I thought tonight.

Veronica nodded. “I see. Well… I guess that’s what happens when your crush hurts your feelings.” She watched Nick’s face turn from shock to guilt in no time at all. “You know it’s fine to talk about it right?”

“No it’s not. This is supposed to be a date and what kind of jerk complains about relationship stuff in front of somebody who has feelings for them? It’s not exactly dating etiquette.”

“Oh absolutely. Just thinking about another woman while there’s one in front of you is a real low blow. Frankly I am a bit bruised by it.”

“That’s why-” his words were silenced by the sweet taste of steak Veronica placed in his mouth.

“Let me finish while you chew on that, kay? Yeah my poor little pride is a bit bruised, but it’s not like I don’t already know where I stand when it comes to Valerie; much like how I know you’ve been doing well to try and set that aside. However, I’m here to tell you that’s flawed thinking. At least when you’re dealing with me. I’d much rather you talk about it with me than mentally check out whenever we’re together. So seeing how this dinner date is already far from conventional, let’s not beat around the bush a talk about the girl on your mind.”

Even though she was clearly being nice, Nick couldn’t help but feel like even more of a jerk! “It’s- it’s okay, really. We don’t have to make a big deal out of-”

“Ten minutes.”

“Huh?”

Veronica pulled out her scroll and set a timer. “It was your bright idea to have a ten minute unfiltered grace period between us. I’m calling in your ten minutes sucker. Deny it and I’ll never agree to doing it like you want.” She hit the timer. “Now spill your guts.”

His own system, used against him. Nick wasn’t sure if he should be happy Veronica remembered it, or upset. “Well played. Fine I’ll talk. Yes, Valerie has me lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“About a lot of things.”

“Nah uh, it’s something specific that has you upset. Might as well come clean now.”

“You’re really not gonna make this easy huh?”

“Nope! Tough love is tough, now speak.” Veronica smiled.

“Sigh, Val...made it seem like I was embarrassing to be around. That I stick my nose into everything. It’s not just her too. Summer said something similar to me butting in as well. The entire thing has been bugging me. Am I really that annoying to them?” Nick slouched in his chair. “Have been pushing them away?”

Veronica clicked her tongue. He opened up faster than she expected. “While I can’t speak much about you being embarrassing since I don’t think you are by any means; I can totally say you do make it your mission to be a helping hand in every situation. So yeah, you do butt in.”

The waitress came back and Veronica quickly gathered their dirty dishes to give to the actually nice woman. “All that being said, that’s nothing new Nick. You’ve always been like that. I’d say it’s actually one of your better qualities.”

“It is?” He said confused.

“Mmmhmm. I’ve never minded it at the very least. There’s a comfort in knowing there’s a helping hand in your corner. Plus it’s not like you blatantly ignore any request telling you to stop. You did give Valerie space when she asked for it after all. As for your sister, she’s all talk. I can tell just from reviewing footage and our short trip to the forest that Summer is quick to depend on you. If you ask me, she’s more annoyed at herself for that than she is at you.”

“I doubt it. They both gave me that same look of frustration. Especially Valerie. One minute she wants to be included whenever I’m in trouble but the next she’s telling me to take a hike. It’s pissing me off.” Nick rubbed his hand through his hair and let out a sigh. This entire thing felt like a complex math equation he didn’t know how to solve.

Veronica could tell by the look on his face how conflicted this made him. How conflicted Valerie made him. Needless to say, she was a bit envious. “Why do you love her so much?” She asked bluntly.

Nick’s face turned red. “Uhhh what?”

“I’m just trying to understand what makes her special. After all, Nicholas Schnee could have a girlfriend everyday of the week, yet he fawns over one. The same one since kindergarten. It can’t only because you’ve known each other for so long. What makes her special in your eyes?” Veronica knew she was practically asking to get hurt but she had to know. What was it that made Valerie different from her?

“D...Do I really have to answer that? It’s kinda sudden.”

“The clock has five more minutes on it and you have a girl willing to listen to gush over another girl. Money can’t buy you a scenario this sweet. Fess up.”

Nick took a long sip of his cider before taking an even longer breath. It would’ve been nice if he could do this for five minutes straight but that would be asking for too much. The only way out was through.

“It’s not the most complicated reason if you’re wondering. Growing up the way I have has had numerous blessings I won’t begin to look down on. Family, money, influence; all of that has been a joy. That being said, I didn’t really revel in being who I am as a Schnee until maybe four or five years ago. Everything I did or everywhere I went, a person would always watch what I would do. Nick is gonna go far. Oh he’s great at that, perhaps he’ll go pro? That sort of thing. Ice skating was just a hobby at first. I did it because it was relaxing and mom liked skating with me. I never paid attention if I was actually good at the moves I tried.”

“But...the people did?” Veronica asked, receiving a nod.

“I didn’t think much of it. I was only around seven perhaps? It actually made me happy. So what if a few people liked my routine? I was on the ice for fun and happened to win a medal. But then, as I kept on skating, a pressure started to form. More eyes started watching me. Waiting for the next medal, talking my skill up, muttering rumors about the contests I didn’t participate in, shaking their heads at my failures…they weren’t looking at me. Only my achievements and shortcomings. Ice skating stopped being fun, again. Mom was always quick to tell me to never pay them mind and eventually convinced me to take a break from it altogether. I could never skate again and she’d be perfectly fine with that.”

“Of course. She shared that with you as an outlet, not a sport. I think she knows better than anyone how cruel it is to make a child participate in performances just because they’re good at it.”

“Yeah, hehe, she really has the perfect playbook of what not to do with a child. It would be cool if it wasn't also sad. Anyways, the break was well needed. People eventually stopped talking and I skated in private. By then I’ve taken up some early combat stuff. Nothing serious. Fencing, a few things a bit more in the huntsman category but for more of sparring and building blocks of it all. Valerie had taken notice one day and got the biggest smile. Finally we can do some real horse playing! She shouted and cheered. Next thing I knew I was being driven to the gym with a hyperactive twelve year old who may have been a little too eager to hit her best friend.” He chuckled.

“And they say I’m feisty. So what? Did she hit you so hard you thought it was cool?” Veronica teased.

“N-Well it was cool, but that wasn’t the linchpin! We were having fun sparring. I was having fun. Learning how she did and showing me the ropes everyday was a blast, until one day I did something really cool I guess. Cool enough that people noticed; and kept noticing. People started talking again about what this might possibly mean for me and began watching my practices. I remember starting to feel the overwhelming stress build up again. It was frustrating thinking that this thing I do for me was about to be taken for the people again. I wanted to cry on the spot. Next thing I knew, Valerie had gotten on this platform to make herself taller and kindly told everyone that they were interrupting our training. To my surprise, they left. It only hit then that I’ve been so caught up in trying to avoid them or please, that I never once tried telling everyone to leave me alone. I asked Valerie how she could easily tell people that also expect so much from her to leave because they were in way. Why would I ever care about their input? I do what I want for me. They’re just along for the ride. S-”

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ! Ten minutes had finally gone by. Veronica clicked her tongue. She reached to shut her alarm off when Nick reached for her scroll.

“It’s only right to finish a story this far in. Not much left anyways.” Nick shut the alarm off to continue. “As I was saying, Soon after that is when I began getting back into ice skating and really started participating for myself; figuring out my agenda in all things I did. Especially tournaments. That’s the gist of it. Like I said, silly.”

“No, I get. Valerie gave you back your enjoyment of your hobbies. Helped make a new lease on life. How could that not be a big deal? If anything it makes me irritated that you have such nice reasoning.” Veronica poked her lips out in a dramatically pouty way before turning head to the window. “Guess I should’ve figured as much. She did to you what you did for me. No wonder you like her. Still, I’m not phoning things in yet. Especially if those are the words she told you.” Veronica stopped herself from clenching the table cloth. “That hypocrite. Not caring about their input my ass…” Veronica let out a little chuckle. That was certainly informative. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Yeah don’t thank me yet.” Nick put thirteen minutes on the timer and smiled. “I believe it’s your turn?”

Veronica’s pleased expression quickly turned to panic. “Wait, what!?”

“Why do you like me?” He asked without mercy. The flush on Vee’s cheeks was redder than wine. “Y-You can’t just ask a girl why they like you!”

“Oh but you can ask me about my romantic feelings without question.” Vee nodded shameless.

“Yep that pretty much sums it up. Besides it’s not like I asked about your feelings towards me. That’s embarrassing as hell.” Veronica watched Nick purse his lips and gave her a look that screamed “seriously?” It was enough to make her start combing her fingers through her hair and look at the coconut cream pie slice that the waitress somehow managed to put under her nose without detection. “I...specifics are bothersome to explain. Just understand that...Nick, you’ve…” she could feel her heart pound in her own ears. “You’ve given me a lot of strength, hope actually. In ways I can’t begin to explain. I’m grateful; dare I say blessed.”

Those words truly shocked him. It wasn’t everyday a term like that came from Vee’s lips. “Blessed huh? That’s a big deal coming from a nonbeliever like yourself.”

“And despite knowing that you still tell me how you pray for me. Not that I particularly mind that I’m in your thoughts regularly. Also it’s rude to just straight up say nonbeliever. I have beliefs. Now the feelings associated and to what the beliefs are is a different story. Thank you for the prayers nonetheless though.”

“Maybe one day you’ll pray for me, hehe.”

Veronica smirked. “I doubt any deity would heed the words. I’ll keep the praying business to the faithful.”

“Fair enough.” Nick took a scoop of ice cream off his fudge brownie and looked at the timer. “Seeing how you’re a bit resistant to tell me why you feel the way you do towards me, can you at least be frank with me by telling me why you’re so adamant about not getting along with Valerie or Summer?”

Very slumped over. “Of all the questions, you’re set on detective work?”

“This timer thing isn’t even meant for interrogation. I offered this as a way to vent without consequences but you’re the one who wanted to play twenty questions.” He finally took a bite of dessert. “Tough it out” He said, a warm smile on his face from the flavor.

“Sigh, guess I have no right to complain. I wouldn’t say I have any real personal grievances towards them, even though I have a few unpleasant memories of your sister harassing me when we were little.”

“We were five.”

“Well I was six and a hurt tail is still a hurt tail, but I digress. Those two, they’re not the kind of people I find myself liking very much. Summer always wraps individuals into her pity party by acting like she’s making a genuine effort, and then Valerie, sigh, there’s not a thing about her that doesn’t make me want to hit her. I know you like her and wouldn’t say she’s a bad natured person, but…” Veronica held her tongue before she overstepped. These were still Nick’s loved ones.

Nick on the other hand wasn’t satisfied. “Say it, what’s on your mind. Zero consequences remember?”

“You say that but it’s not like we’ll magically forget what we’ve said in this last twenty six minutes.”

“No, but I trust you won’t hold my words and secrets against me. Do you trust me? Good or bad, this is meant to clear the air. I’d be a hypocrite to not let you speak your mind after asking you to.” It was a bit brash but Nick reached for Vee’s hand and held it.

Veronica felt her own breathing slow down at the sight of Nick’s reassuring smile. Her eyes went to her pie to avoid his gaze. He was too disarming for his own good. It made her feel guilty for doubting, as well as relying on him the way she did.

“Valerie isn’t a good friend, not you and I, not your sister for that matter. Yeah she might help out because she’s a good person but she’s far too self centered in my opinion. I mean just take tonight for example. You’ve made plans with her that fell apart because everything you two do are on her own terms. What friend gets upset that another saved them in a training exercise, or uses a pet name that the other person doesn’t like!?”

Nick raised his eyebrow. “Pet name?”

“Summer hates to be called Princess, right? That could be a thing with me personally but with the way she gets so pissed about it I would think Valerie using it would be annoying. Yet she does it anyway. Like how she’s quick to try to act like she’s above something when she clearly isn’t. I-”

“Vee? My hand…” Nick winced, his hand being squeezed like a stress ball.”

“Crap…” Veronica immediately loosened up to look at it. Thankfully her nails didn’t dig into him but she did make his hand red. Veronica gently begins rubbing it in some pointless attempt to relieve the pain. “Sorry I… I shouldn’t lose my temper like that. Ugh I know better too. Maybe steak was a bad idea after all?”

Nick watched as Veronica became fixated on the light injury. Her ears had fallen down and the anger she had while speaking had vanished entirely. All she could do was rub his hand. “It’s fine, honest. I don’t even feel pain anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have felt pain at all. This is the second time I’ve hurt you.”

“Well...I did actively walk into a fight the first time. Faunus reasons or not, a person should expect to get whaled on a bit when breaking a fight up.”

Veronica knew Nick was trying to be nice and there was truth to his words. That still didn’t make her feel much better. “I guess there’s one thing Valerie and I have in common. We get you hurt for needless reasons that could be avoided.”

“Vee…”

“Hey, I know she makes you happy and I shouldn’t really try to persuade you to feel otherwise, but… I can’t help but feel like… if you were to ever allow it one day if you’ll look my way, because…Nick, I think I can make you even happier.” She gently held his hand with her trembling ones.

Nick couldn’t see her eyes but could see how the blush took over her. She wasn’t the only one. How could he not feel embarrassed when Veronica Belladonna, the most brazen girl he knew, was now currently holding his hand sheepishly while her tail swayed side to side. Thank goodness he had set a timer beforehand. The buzzer finally went off and Veronica snapped out of her trance, letting go. Rather than speak further, her pie became the scapegoat, getting devoured without interruption. Nick wanted to say something but even the work up to speaking made her face redder by the second. Besides, the timer hit zero. He had to respect the rules he made. A lot was learned within a short time.

“It’s been some time since we had a talk like that. Thanks, Veronica. I feel like I know you even better than before.”

“Just...eat your dessert, please?” She said, embarrassed beyond belief. How could she say something so compromising like that!? Claiming to make him happier than Valerie was bolder than she meant to be.

xxxx

The rest of dinner was pretty quiet. Both of them couldn’t think of any light topics to discuss after prying into feelings. It wasn’t awkward to speak but felt more, inappropriate, so to speak. Both desserts were finished and the chef had passed his taste test. Nick would keep his end of the bargain. However, the generous tip he usually left for all workers involved was purposely missing. The chef had lost the privilege entirely. The waitress would be in for a shock the next time she checked her savings. No need to punish those in the crossfire after all. Veronica and Nick left without saying a word to anybody.

The two of them walked down the sidewalk in the season's chill embrace. Veronica felt the chill winds creep down her thin dress. It felt colder than in the forest. Not even a single person or car was on the street! Nothing but an ever forming winter wonderland!

“Eugh! I know walking home was my idea but maybe I should’ve thought ahead?”

Nick chuckled. “Maybe so?” He took his dress coat off and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”

“Yeah but you just got over being sick. You can’t afford to catch another cold.”

“Relax, I got sick because of stress. Temperatures like this are nothing to anybody who lives here. The cold is nothing in the face of a real Atlesian. It’s in our blood!”

“And central heating is in your budget. Speaking of which, shouldn’t that be on full blast in the winter!? I mean my goosebumps have goosebumps.” Veronica shivered.

Nick smiled. “I’m glad you asked!” He took Veronica’s hand and quickly rushed over to a building with an awning for them to be under. “There’s a reason I picked a reservation for today. It’s the night manual resets happen.”

“Manual resets?”

Nick nodded. “Yep! You’re right about it being super cold. The lack of people is a dead giveaway.”

“What’s up with that? I thought Atlas was a city that never slept? It’s like a ghost town now. Nothing but….actually…” Veronica looked around the streets, lamps, and every building. There were noticeable less lights. A far cry from the dazzling show she saw earlier through the window. “The heating system, it’s off.”

“Not entirely. A majority of buildings still have them on but yes, external heating vents get temporarily shut off and rebooted. It’s common in the winter since they have to run constantly. You didn’t think it was weird that it was snowing so steadily?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess it is. Everything was already covered in snow so I didn’t notice.”

“Most snow melts on contact but there’s no getting past it during the cold season. Heater or not heater, you’re gonna see snow fall.”

Veronica breathed on her hands to warm them up. “So why come out when the heaters are off if you can see snow whenever?”

“Because I’m not here for the snow. There’s only one thing Atlas gets to really witness whenever the heaters come back on, because the reboot forces the heaters to come back on at full blast.”

“What would-” Before she could finish, Veronica witnessed it first hand; the sudden burst of heat that washed over her body as the orange glow of heaters returned to pale white city. The previous atmospheric silence had been broken. Pit pat pit pat pit pat pit. The familiar brought Veronica’s attention to the streets. Right before eyes like magic, suddenly and seamless, the winter wonderland turned into rain. Lots of rain.

Any and all snowflakes melted before pitter pattering on the pavement. Rain was nothing new to her and neither was Atlas at night for that matter, but a rainy night lights in the city of Atlas? That was a different story entirely. It was if she was in a new kingdom altogether, the way the lights shimmered on the water in the air and on the ground. Atlas somehow went from looking like a snow globe, to a chandelier.

“Woah~” Veronica was floored. She extended her hand out. The feeling of frigid rain contrasted against the warm so much it made her jolt. “Ah! Man that has a bite to it!” She laughed.Veronica stepped out from the awning.

Nick, shocked by her actions, quickly grabbed her hand. “Hey, your dress!” He shouted with agency. Veronica did not bother with his words. Instead she pulled Nick into the rain with her as she laughed.

“Hahaha! What’s a little water!? I love the rain!! Between the heaters and a pour like this, I’d say this is more refreshing than the showers back home.” Veronica’s grin widened. She took hold of Nick’s hands and began swaying. “Come on, dance with me!”

Nick let himself get strung along into Vee’s antics. He caught her guard by pulling the two of them into a ballroom stance and began to waltz.

Veronica’s ears wiggled. “Oooo look at you Mr. Casanova, taking the lead like that.”

“You’re pretty upbeat for a cat in the rain.” He teased.

“Jokes on you, panthers love water, and people from Menagerie love the ocean. I do have a surfboard after all.” She leaned back to que Nick to support her back. Veronica dramatically stuck her leg out to do an over the top dip before Nick brought her back up, pulling her close.

“Nice moves.”

“You’re not the only one who has to learn etiquette. Gotta stay on my toes for the public too. Pretty easy with a tail for balance.”

Nick chuckled. He waltzed his cheeky date back over to the awning near a heater as she continued to laugh. “I could’ve sworn minutes ago you didn’t want me getting sick?”

“Well someone bragged about being one with the cold.”

“I didn’t say all that now. I’m surprised someone complaining about the cold gets excited to dance in the rain.”

“Yeah well…” Veronica moves even closer to Nick, until there’s virtually no space between them. “I feel pretty warm right now.” She said, looking up into his eyes. Maybe it was the heater, the cold rain, or the warmth from his arms now wrapping around her, but it made Veronica warm to the point of feeling dazed. It couldn’t just be her. Not when Nick’s face was its own shade of red. The two let the sound of rain surround them yet again. The smile Veronica had slowly shifted into an expression of longing. She was so close to him right now. Closer than she’s ever felt. His warmth, his cologne, his lips…; Veronica’s body couldn’t help but lean forward. Right...until…

Beep! beep! The sound of a car horn made both jump out of their skin. They looked to the street to see their waitress waving joyfully.

“Thanks for the tip!” She said emotionally as she drove off.

The surprise brought Veronica back to her senses to see Nick’s face flushed and embarrassed. As well as conflicted. Like how he was back at Penny’s lab. Veronica felt the weight of her actions hit her like a tank and quickly took a step back.

“Sorry! Silly me, hehe. Here I was telling you that I wouldn’t be too forward or force anything, then I pull this! Talk about embarrassing huh?!” There wasn’t a bone in her body that didn’t want to find a hole to hide in. How could she get lost in emotion again!?

Nick frowned. “Ver-”

“It’s fine! Totally my bad.” She could feel her own heart start to race from her recklessness. “Tonight has been nice. We should probably start heading back before-”

Nick took Veronica’s arm and shut her up by kissing her cheek before wrapping his arms around her tightly. Her body went a little stiff before eventually hugging him back.

“No date is complete without a little intimacy, right.” Nick said, doing his best to kill the tension. “Sorry things got weird. I should’ve spoken up. It’s not like I would’ve been upset.” He admitted. “I just...you know. But I hope this is okay at least?”

Rejection is nothing new. Veronica was ready for the sting. However, Nick’s words didn’t sting at all. In fact, Veronica could only find herself hiding her face in his shirt, enjoying this comfort. Her heart stopped racing and she felt calmer than she had all night. This wasn’t rejection. Not by a long shot. A to be continued perhaps?

“This is perfect.” She said, holding her crush closer. “Stay just like this for your date. At least for a few more moments.”

Nick smiled. “As you wish.”

Veronica may not have Nick’s attention like how Valerie does, but at this moment, Veronica had Nick focused on her and her alone. He was hers right now. Veronica couldn’t ask for more. This definitely was an unconventional date, clumsy and hardly what anyone would call romantic. Veronica would cherish it all the same.

xxxx

While the sweet sound of rain soothed one duo, another couldn’t hear it all, it being completely drowned out by applause with bubbling excitement. Tonight may be one of the coldest nights for Atlas, but for a warehouse in Mantle filled with young adults, passion burned in the form of a young woman in black about to conquer the stage with her guitar and vocals. Summer was ready to vent. While Eliza carefully observed from afar.

If she wasn’t here then she might not have believed it. With those clothes and confidence, Eliza was sure she was watching a stranger.“Summer Schnee, you and your brother are one surprise after another.”

The singer grabbed a microphone and looked out to the many eyes ready to cut loose. “ALRIGHT EVERYBODY LET’S MAKE SOME NOISE!”

Summer screamed, receiving nothing less than twice the excitement back. No time was wasted in playing how she played less. Tonight was her night. Problems could wait until tomorrow.

#rwby #rwby twin snowflakes #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #blake belladonna #winter schnee #eliza marigold #veronica belladonna

19 notes · View notes

strange-lace · 3 years

Text

Concert State of Consciousness

IT’S FINALLY DONE! I HAVE NOW MADE A FANFIC FOR THIS ROLESWAP AU! I didn’t expect this damn thing to get this long but here I am, once again! Kind of happy with how everyone’s characterized, though Demon Kid ended up a bit more sinister than I intended. I definitely had fun writing the dynamic between Mei and Green though.

Hope y’all like it!

To say the city was abuzz with excitement would be an understatement.

For the past couple of months, the name DJ Horns has been spoken with increasing interest as his music suddenly began to be played on the radio constantly. And most people wouldn’t deny that it was good, electronic yet incredibly varied depending on the song. But what interested people the most about the musician was how mysterious he was, active on social media and yet nobody knew his face and only the barest of personal details. Even his voice was a matter of debate with him using a voice synthesizer even when talking normally on his social media.

It was the perfect storm to allow DJ Horns fanbase to start from nothing to practically explode over time.

And the same musician had just announced that he would be doing a live concert right at the heart of the city, even playing “secret tracks” that he had yet to let anyone hear until now.

People were practically fighting to get themselves tickets, Mei herself included that chaos. She had been swept up in the excitement of DJ horns since the very beginning and was willing to do whatever she had to get tickets for her and Green to that concert.

Leading her to the unfortunate situation she was in now. Kicked out of the ticket venue and by the time the ban would be lifted, she knew all the concert tickets would be sold out. Oh and Green had to bail her out from getting in trouble with the security guys.

“I don’t get what the big deal was, everyone was fighting dirty to get first pick at those tickets!” Even with his shades, she could tell that Green was rolling his eyes at her.

“Oh gee, I don’t know Mei. Maybe it’s because you nearly tore a guy’s hair out!”

“That’s what he gets for trying to say I was only a fan to get the attention of other guys! Now I’m gonna miss the concert of a lifetime,” Mei groaned, a pout on her lips. Green’s scowl of disappointment softened as they walked into Pigsy’s Noodles, starting to feel bad. It’s not like the guy wasn’t being a jerk after all.

“I suppose I could see about pulling some strings to get us some decent seats, if it means that much-” He was cut off by a crushing hug from Mei, who easily lifted Green off of his feet and began to twirl them both around in sheer jubilation.

“You’d do that for me?! Thank you so much Green, you’re the absolute best!”

“Yes, yes, your appreciation is very evident now please put me down before you crush my rib cage,” he wheezed, letting in a deep gulp of air once he was freed. Mei appeared sheepish at the unintentional show of strength. “As I was saying, there’s probably a couple scalpers I could cough two tickets out of without much trouble.”

“I still question how you have the money to just do stuff like that casually, make hundreds of gadgets, and build our secret base.”

“You have your mysterious ways and I have mine Mei.” Before Mei could question further, Pigsy voice interrupted them both, looking a fair bit of a mess.

“There you are kid, we got a mountain of orders for you to deliver! Oh, and this came for you and Green in mail while you were gone, no return address though weirdly enough,” he said, shoving a load of noodle orders in Mei’s arms alongside two unmarked envelopes: one orange and the other green. The sound of something crashing in the kitchen tore Pigsy’s attention away, causing him to let out a string of curses as he went back into what sounded like chaos.

Green took the envelopes off Mei’s hands while she struggled with balancing all the orders in her arms, studying them with interest. Upon closer inspection, each envelope simply had “To My Heroes” scrawled on the front in elegant writing and sealed with a black wax seal on the back. He found himself impressed at all the sheer amount of effort put in.

“Fancy,” he commented before gently opening the green envelope. His eyes widened at what he found inside. “Looks like I won’t need to pay any scalpers for tickets.”

“Wait what do you mean? Gimme that!” Mei said, putting the orders down on the table to snatch the orange envelope and tear into it with desperate ferocity. There were practically stars once she took in what was inside: front row tickets to the DJ Horns concert and even VIP passes.

The windows of the restaurant rattled the slightest bit as the sheer force of her screams of joy.

Green didn’t even flinch as his ears were assaulted, used to this level of volume, while unfortunate bystanders winced in pain or jumped in surprise. He found a handwritten behind the ticket in his own envelope and curiosity getting the better of him, began to read it.

“As a token of thanks for always keeping this city safe, here’s free front row tickets on me! Can’t wait to see you both tonight in front of the crowd! ♡♡♡

- DJ Horns”

“How… suspiciously generous of him,” Green drawled, an eyebrow raised at such a note.

“What’s suspicious about it? We do save the city a lot and somebody’s just showing their appreciation for it! I see no problem with it,” Mei argued, pausing in her celebrations, which involved her doing a handstand on one of the stools and didn’t even seem bothered holding the position.

“Mei, this implies that he hand delivered these here without anybody noticing. Why go through all that effort to be sneaky?” It just didn’t sit right in the pit of his stomach, something smelled rotten about this to him.

“Because he’s a mega famous celebrity, he’s probably worried that making a big deal out of us giving these could make people upset or something.” It made sense to Mei, who wouldn’t free tickets from their favorite music artist and be upset that someone else was given that opportunity? She did a small flip from the stool to land next to Green, wrapping her arm around his shoulders until they were close enough that their cheeks were squished together. Despite the closeness, Green looked more uncomfortable about being tugged down to Mei’s height than anything else. That and how blinding her smile was.

“C’mon Green, I get the skepticism but it’s just a concert. One night where we can be normal teens enjoying the fruits of our labor in protecting this place, what’s so bad about that? Plus, it’ll be fun! So how about it?” Mei said, almost sounding desperate. Green remained silent for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, only giving her a tired smile as he returned the one armed hug.

“Oh alright, you win. I suppose a break sounds nice right about now considering how things went with Demon Kid last time. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” He conceded, willing to let his suspicion aside for a night of just not having to worry about anything but having a good time and enjoying music. Especially after yesterday, Green was still amazed that the demon managed to make something like perfume into a weapon of mass annoyance.

“That’s the spirit! This is gonna be the night of our lives!”

At least that’s what she thought, until her trinkets were literally snatched out of her hands.

“After you finish your deliveries for the night kid,” Pigsy interrupted, looking a lot more put together now that whatever disaster that had been happening in the kitchen was under control. Excluding the number of stains on his apron that weren’t there before of course. It took Mei a moment to process that her precious tickets weren’t in her hands and she was quick to bring out the puppy dog eyes.

“But- but Pigsy-” Pigsy showed no sign of giving in, having years to build a resistance to all of Mei’s tricks.

“I’m sorry Mei, but we’re way too swamped to let you run off with no one to do all these deliveries. Once you have all the deliveries done, you can have these back. But only after, so you better get started,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. And even if Mei tried, the smell of something burning had Pigsy back in the kitchen just like that with even more fervent curses, this time with her tickets tucked into the pockets of his apron.

Mei let out a groan and smacked her forehead against the countertop in despair. Green merely patted her back in sympathy to her plight.

“There’s no way I’m gonna make all those deliveries and not miss like half of the concert! Unless…”

Oh no, he recognized that look in her eyes anywhere.

“Mei, no. I know exactly what you’re thinking and I’m telling you right now, no. No music is worth facing Pigsy’s wrath if he finds out you skipped out on work for a concert. Which is what exactly will happen, he always finds out,” Green warned her, even taking off his sunglasses to look her dead in the eyes to get his point across. Mei winced at that, remembering what had happened last time she tried to skimp on work.

The power of Pigsy’s “I’m not mad, just disappointed” is something even DBK should fear.

“Look, I’ll record whatever you miss if I don’t see you by the time it starts. Might not be the same but it’s better than nothing.” That offer seemed to perk Mei up from her bout of disappointment, hopeful eyes peeking through her thick hair bangs.

“Promise?”

“I promise. But if you don’t want to miss the whole thing, you’d better do what Pigsy says and get started on the deliveries. Especially since I think that pile has grown since we got here,” Green said, pointing to the small mountain of orders which indeed had gotten bigger since passed off to her. This time, he was more prepared for the bone crushing embrace which came his way and thankfully had his arms free enough to return it.

“Thanks Green, you’re the best! Hopefully I’ll see you there before it all starts!” And just like that, Mei was off like a whirlwind with all the noodle orders in her arms. She excitedly loaded them into the shop’s delivery cart and drove off with a strong stomp in the gas pedal, the cart’s tires squealing in distress before driving off.

With a weary sigh, Green took his leave as well though he couldn’t stop looking at the ticket and note in his hands.

Even with Mei’s assurances, something about the situation still did not sit right with him.

“For once, please let me be wrong,” Green whispered to himself, not noticing a suspiciously familiar monkey-shaped marionette creature eagerly watching him from the rooftops above. On the other side of the puppet’s eyes, her creator couldn’t help the manic grin off of his face as the pieces started to fall into place for his plan.

Green had to admit that he was expecting this many people packed into the area when he rolled up to the concert gates on his motorcycle, Mei still nowhere in sight. Though he certainly made sure to update him on how the deliveries were going.

A familiar ding sound on his phone made him pause, giving an exasperated smile at seeing another text from Mei.

“WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ORDERING NOODLES TONIGHT??? got done w 3/4 of the orders, if i hurry i should be there before opening act’s done. if anybody tries to steal my seat, i give you permission to use lethal force. don’t let me down! <3”

“Maybe if you didn’t send me so many texts, you’d be getting the deliveries done faster Mei,” Green mumbled to himself fondly as he climbed off his bike, blissfully unaware of the stares being sent his way. As usual, his hair was a mess of black and pale green spikes as he pulled off his helmet and he let out a soft huff, attempting to put order to the mane that was his hair as he made his way inside.

Green let out a low whistle, impressed as he walked further in to discover the place was decorated head to toe with fluorescent neon lights, state of the art music equipment, and a giant disco ball hanging from the ceiling which added another layer of glitz. It was almost disorientating, the onslaught of neon colors, lights, and music from all sides but in a way that was also exhilarating. The harsh glow of red, orange, and purple was a bit much for Green but at the same time it filled him with a sense of giddiness that made him begin to understand Mei’s desperation to be here.

His heart did a slight leap of excitement once he found his seat. It was one thing to read he had a front row seat and another thing entirely to see how close he was to the stage. And a completely separate thing to see a note on the seat, scrawled with a familiar extravagant writing which welcomed him and Mei with hopes that they would enjoy the show.

All too soon, all the lights went out and Green could feel his breath pause before they returned with full force alongside familiar music which seemed to make the entire room pulsate with its vibrations. Multiple spotlights shined on the stage and the crowd went wild with cheering as DJ Horns finally showed, looking just as bombastic as his set up.

He wore an ornate metallic helmet decorated with large horns that protruded from the forehead which shined a rainbow of colors under the neon lights. A dark fur lined coat was draped over his shoulders with a matching suit underneath and metal lined gloves on his hands. Overall, he looked like quite a character to Green though there was niggling in the back of his head that this should be someone that he could recognize. The grip on the arms of his seat tightened.

His eyes took in the still empty seat to his right and he began to gnaw his lip in worry.

“Where are you Mei?” Green asked himself before the synthesized voice of DJ Horns interrupted his thoughts.

“What is up everybody? You all ready for the show of a lifetime?!” A loud cacophonous roar of cheers answered him, which he soaked in without a hint of shame in his posture. “That’s what I like to hear! And we have some very special guests tonight right in the front row, the Monkie Kid herself and her partner, the Green Dragon!”

Green couldn’t help the flinch when a spotlight suddenly shined down on him, leaving him feeling exposed to hundreds upon thousands of eyes which zeroed in on him the vacant seat next to him. Yet he still forced on a smile which was more teeth than anything else, not quite appreciating being put on the spot like this. The musician’s shoulders seemed to tense in disappointment once he also noticed being down one of his special guests, yet he was quick to shake it off.

“Seems it’s more like one special guest, but no matter! We’re still going to make this a night that the city itself won’t ever forget! The first and unfortunately, only, live concert by the one and only DJ Horns!” He was met with gasps of surprise and even a couple cries of despair at this bombshell. “I know, I know! But there’s a reason for this, my dear fans. Because after tonight, you’ll all know the man behind the mask and I’m sure you’ve all been dying to know who it is. Am right?!” DJ Horns teased, hands reaching for his helmet.

The manic energy of the entire building seemed to escalate to almost out of control levels at that announcement, people scrambling for their phones to get the chance of capturing his face before anyone else. Green would have been among them if that uneasy feeling hadn’t begun to grow into full on paranoia, as if his very being could sense that the other shoe was about to drop. He was so tense that Green felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong,” he chanted to himself, his grip tightening to an unbearable degree as DJ Horns finally pulled off his helmet.

Unfortunately for him and everyone else, he wasn’t wrong.

His heart practically stopped as his eyes were welcomed by an unfortunately familiar face: spiked brown hair held up by a golden circlet styled like horns, dark eyes framed in orange and red pigment, and a fanged grin that promised nothing but trouble.

Demon Kid.

And his grin only became larger once he took in the shocked silence, particularly Green’s horror ridden face. He looked extremely pleased with himself as he took advantage of everyone struggling to process what was going on to prepare for the final phase of his plan.

And would it be a sweet victory for him.

“Oh, I’m going to treasure that look on your face for the rest of my life, Dragon Boy. It’s certainly a shame that the Noodle Girl couldn’t join in on the party but, eh, she’ll come eventually.” Green had finally overcome his horror, sword in his hands and making a mad dash towards Demon Kid on the stage. Yet the demon remained unaffected as he put on the finishing touches. “Because by the time I’m done, everyone in this whole city will be dancing for my king like my puppets. Starting with all you!”

And with that, Demon Kid put the volume at max and blasted the entire building with his music. The sheer force of the sound sent Green flying back, crashing into now abandoned seats as people attempted to escape. However, to their horror, all the doors were locked and barricaded. Leaving them trapped and at the mercy of the music assaulting their ears from all sides and one by one, civilians fell to the floor as they tried their hardest to muffle the noise. Yet as if a sentient force, the melody managed to slither its way in and overwhelmed people’s senses like a tidal wave with one simple but overpowering command.

And that command was to obey.

Green climbed to his feet in a daze, struggling to focus with the sheer volume and the strange whispering that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. And already Green could feel his mental walls crumbling, he wasn’t going to last long before he succumbed to the strange power.

Mei.

He had to warn Mei.

He scrambled for his phone, barely able to take him the most recent message from Mei stating she was heading back to get her ticket back from Pigsy. Clumsy fingers fumbled to type out a warning and relief flooded his nerves once the message was sent.

And just in time as Green found himself being dogpiled by multiple people, their eyes glowing a hollow and ominous red. He struggled yet the mental strain of fighting to keep control left him weak and vulnerable, sword just out of his reach. Impish chuckling invaded his ears and before he knew it, Demon Kid was right there. And while the demon typically only had a couple inches on Green, now he downright loomed over him and radiating smugness.

“Still fighting huh Dragon Boy? Almost impressive! But there’s no point in fighting anymore, the spell will wear you down one way or another. So save your energy, you’ll need it when you and Noodle Girl help me conquer this city in the name of my king. It’ll be awesome, just you wait!” The childlike giddiness would almost be endearing if Green wasn’t fighting a mental battle that he had no chance in winning, not against this kind of magic.

“Mei’ll stop you, she always does,” he grit out, eyes already taking on a faint red glow.

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure of that, after all I’d like to see her fight against her best friend when he’s under my control. But that’s not for you to worry about. Now, give in Dragon Boy,” Demon Kid commanded and like that, Green found himself being pulled under into a strange haze, only able to think of obeying the commands of his puppetmaster. The demon couldn’t help the joyous laugh as he watched Green’s eyes become red much like the rest of his little army.

Mei had been driving like a madwoman towards the concert the moment she read Green’s text.

“it’s demon kid using spell to hypnotize people don’t have time can already feel control slipping need to destroy his set up and stop the music before he gets city”

“I swear if he’s hurt Green, I will make him wish he stuck with making music,” she hissed to herself before letting out a growl at another red light slowing her down. “To hell with this.” Mei summoned the staff, slamming one end against the street and keeping a tight grip as the staff extended, sending her and the cart sailing above the streets below.

Mei barely flinched at the rough landing in front of the building, only feeling a flash of guilt at the state of the cart. She could pay Pigsy back for the damages later. Staff held tight in her grip and headphones on to buy herself time, Mei was ready for anything. And upon taking notice that all the doors appeared to be either locked or blocked, she did the next best thing to get inside.

Pole vault and smash her way through a window, miraculously not cutting herself on the glass.

She tumbled forward upon landing and took in the scene before her.

Her headphones certainly didn’t stop her from feeling the bass practically rock the foundation of the place yet what Mei found more worrisome were the people. Instead of rushing to attack her, they were all dancing to the beat of the song and looked almost perfectly normal. Except they were all too in sync and choreographed, as if Mei found herself in a music video than anything else. A shiver traveled down her spine as they all seemed to be watching her yet gave her a wide berth to catch sight of the stage.

Her blood boiled at the sight of Demon Kid, perched at his station but wiggling about showing he was barely able to sit still in anticipation.

“There you are, you had me waiting forever for you to get here!” He exclaimed, almost happy to see Mei before he caught himself and schooled his expression back to a businesslike indifference. “Not that it matters, you’ll be joining the Dragon Boy soon enough and we can start taking over this city!”

“Not while I have these headphones on, asshole!” Mei screamed over the music before rushing towards the stage, ready to smash Demon Kid’s equipment to pieces. It was only out of a vague sense of danger which flared in the back of her head and dodging at the right time that she managed to evade being skewered in the side by a sword.

The sight of Green, eyes lifeless red and moving around as if a stiff marionette being led around on strings, was definitely one that Mei was going to see in her nightmares for who knows how long.

Leaping to dodge another swipe of Green’s sword, Demon Kid’s cackle seemed to echo in sync with the music.

“Well then we’ll just have to rip those headphones off your pretty head ourselves! Minions, if you please!” Following the demon’s command, the hypnotized civilians stopped their dancing and attacked.

And Mei soon found herself swarmed and being attacked on all sides. It soon became more of a deadly game of tag, keeping herself out of the reach of her countless pursuers and evading Green’s relentless attacks. She was running out of time and space, she needed to think of a plan.

Fast.

Her eyes soon caught sight of the stage lighting above Demon Kid’s set and it was as if a lightbulb went off in her head.

It was risky and she only had one shot.

But Mei was always one for risk.

With a quick change in direction, Mei dashed towards the center of the swarm and just before she was pulled in, she took aim and threw the staff towards the stage lights. She could only be left to hope that she didn’t miss as a hand grabbed her ankle, only to be face to face with Green. His blank face now alight with a victorious grin before they were left tumbling along the floor in a desperate bid to grab one another.

Mei grunted as she found herself pinned down by Green, the neon lights causing his sword to gleam with menace as he held the tip to her throat. His other hand ripped off her headphones without mercy and her own ears were overwhelmed by the music.

“C’mon staff, don’t let me down,” she said, doing her best to fight as the spell soon attempted to creep its way in her head too.

“Well done, my dear puppet,” Demon Kid congratulated Green, pride practically emanating from his being. “Any last words, Noodle Girl?” His victory was practically guaranteed now and he couldn’t wait to see the look on his king’s face.

Which only made the demon confused at the sight of Mei’s smirk, her eyes focused upwards.

“Yeah. Might want to look above.”

“What?” Demon Kid did so and his heart stuttered at the sight of the spinning staff pinballing across the walls before colliding with the heavy duty wires which held the stage lights.

And cut through them without ease.

Without any suspension, the stage light rig surrendered to the forces of gravity. Demon Kid hurriedly dived off the stage to save himself, narrowly missed being squished by the rig. Unfortunately, his music equipment was not granted the same luck and was crushed in a shower of sparks, cutting off the music.

Blissful silence took over the area and Mei let out a sigh of relief as the sensation of something prying at her mind vanished like mist. And she couldn’t help a smile as the red vanished from Green’s eyes, signifying the end of Demon Kid’s control on him. He let out a groan, crawling back to consciousness as if waking up from the world’s worst nap, before realizing where he was.

“Mei? What happened? Are you okay?” Green was quick to get off Mei and help her back to her feet. She simply gave him a hug, content to see him safe and sound now. He accepted the hug without complaint, feeling less like he was struggling to gather his ability for free will again after having it ripped away. They were quick to break away as flames licked at their backs and they were faced with Demon Kid, his hair now flames as he took in his now ruined DJ equipment.

The duo took fighting stances, only for the demon to take a deep breath and have his hair to return to normal.

“Well, looks like you both got me beat this time. Here I thought I had it all in the bag but then you pulled that off-the-wall solution out of nowhere! And I admit, it looked cool as hell! I’ll give you two this win, here’s a little something for it,” Demon Kid said before tossing a bundle their way, which Mei caught with a look of caution from Green before they unwrapped it. To their mutual surprise, it was two letterman jackets emblazoned with the DJ Horns logo on the back and sleeves.

Before they could question him on this, Demon Kid gave the two a cheeky week before vanishing in a whirlwind of fire and smoke.

After a moment of stunned silence, Mei wordlessly took one of the jackets and put it on.

“After all that, you’re still willing to wear anything associated with DJ Horns?”

“Hey, this is merch I’ve never seen before and you gotta admit, we’d make this look good.” She even struck a pose to prove her point.

With a resigned groan, Green followed suit by putting on the other jacket and silently agreed that the jackets did make them look pretty good.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mei #mk #red son #roleswap au #traffic light trio #fanfiction #my writing

62 notes · View notes

delusion-of-negation · 3 years

Text

top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

#don't take life too seriously #nobody gets out alive anyway #tw abuse mention #tw csa mention #tw incest mention #tw for any tws I missed #idk why I did this

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

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Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing.

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show? Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout.

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

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atlantic-riona · 4 years

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modern Helen and Penelope, Sherlock, and Tempest Mac? (If you don't feel like doing all of these, please just pick your favorite--I'm just intrigued by ALL of these.)

ooh you managed to pick all the older ones! I am quite fond of these still, so I’ll do all three!

putting it all under a cut because it got quite long:

modern Helen and Penelope was a modern AU (as the name suggests), but there were still gods and magic and heroes, plus a bunch of other mythologies were included as well. basically, the plot sort of revolved around Helen, who’s going to be in an arranged marriage, deciding to abscond with Paris, which kicks off a whole bunch of other things (I don’t quite remember the details anymore, but I do distinctly remember that the Irish heroes got involved somehow, and the...uhhh...well, some other heroes got involved too but I never wrote any of their names down, so 😅). but it also revolved around Odysseus and Penelope falling in love, which I’m a sucker for. in honor of that, here’s the part I wrote with Odysseus:

Her heart skips a beat as she realizes who she’s looking at, and she hastens to finish before Helen catches on. “With—what’s his name, Odysseus, I think.”

“The island king’s son?” Helen sounds disinterested, and Penelope silently thanks any gods listening. “I can’t remember—is he one of the good-looking ones? They’ve all become a blur.”

“He—” Penelope’s tongue, usually so nimble, stutters to a halt. All she has to do is say no, and her cousin will move on. But she can’t bring herself to lie. Not about him.

Helen watches with growing interest as Penelope makes a few inarticulate sounds before subsiding into a blushing silence. “You know what? Maybe I should refresh my memory. Come on, cuz.”

She strides away, moving with easy confidence as Penelope, her stomach filled with dread, follows.

Her cousin has the ability to be seen or to be Seen. In other words, there are times like now, where the two of them pass through crowds with barely a second glance from anyone, and then there are times when Helen is the center of any room she walks into. And she can switch back and forth with ease.

Odysseus and his friend are bent over a table covered with hastily drawn maps and pretzels acting as soldiers. Someone nearby laughs, loudly, and her heart pounds in her ears. Odysseus is shorter than the other boy, but has broader shoulders. Recklessly, Penelope decides that despite the other boy’s good looks and easy smile, Odysseus has a far better smirk. Neither of them look up as the girls approach.

“So you see, the king really ought to have placed his troops there.”

“Ah, but have you considered,” says Odysseus, picking up another pretzel and eating it, “that the river was too exposed for a stand against the invaders? At the time, the forest seemed the better option.”

Helen leans over to look at the maps. “Goodness,” she says airily, as if the very sight of the battle maps are too much for her, although Penelope has played enough strategy games with her cousin to know that Helen would wipe the floor with anyone at this table, not including Penelope herself. “All those pieces look so very lonely. Surely you cannot win a war with so few soldiers?”

“Well, they represent battalions, not individual soldiers,” says Odysseus absently, and then he looks up.

From the way that he and his friend become still, it’s clear that Helen wishes to be Seen. They’re transfixed, the way one stares at a comet or tornado. Penelope might as well be the air, for all they see her.

In a fair world, Penelope might have been considered beautiful.

In that world, Helen would have to not exist.

As it is, Penelope contents herself with being considered wise beyond her years, although wisdom seems a poor consolation prize in moments like these.

“Helen,” Odysseus says finally. He clears his throat. “Aren’t you supposed—”

She reaches out and covers his hand with her own. “Oh, that. Being cooped up all day is no fun, I tell you. So I convinced Penelope to take me here with her.” Odysseus’ gaze drifts to Penelope. He has very lovely brown eyes. Helen clearly doesn’t care for the shift in his attention, for she laughs prettily and Penelope does not exist again. “Let’s keep this our little secret, shall we? And by that I mean don’t tell my father.”

Odysseus nods slowly. He looks around, up, down, and finally settles on asking, “Won’t you sit down?”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtful,” Helen says, and promptly does. The other boy does as well, which leaves only the one seat—Odysseus’.

“You and Penelope will have to share,” Helen observes, sharp gaze trained on her cousin.

Penelope takes a deep breath. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

may actually pick this one up in the future, idk

Sherlock was a mini-play I wrote for my high school; they were doing a play (with Sherlock Holmes) that needed a “fake start,” one that was really ridiculous, so I wrote one for them that I thought might fit the bill. I have a lot of favorite ridiculous moments but here are a few:

SHERLOCK (abruptly): How’s Mary?

WATSON: //children...oh, Mary’s fine, she’s fine - so’s Henry’s two little sisters, Emma and Jane. Right terrors they are. Twin disasters, you might say. (He chuckles.)

SHERLOCK: Twins?

WATSON: How did you -

SHERLOCK: Your enjoyment in that atrocious and badly delivered pun gave up the game.

HENRY: The kids nowadays call that a dad joke.

---

HOLMES: You took your time slinking out from the woodwork again, my old enemy.

MORIARTY looks embarrassed.

MORIARTY: I had to make tenure. My apologies for delaying our little games, Holmes.

HOLMES: Quite understandable. You cad.

MORIARTY: I deserved that one, I’m afraid. But not anymore than that, Holmes!

HOLMES: I apologize. I had to get it out of my system.

MORIARTY: Of course.

---

HOLMES: To answer your question…

He realizes that he doesn’t know her name.

HOLMES: ...er, dear, Moriarty is in fact about to offer us tea.

MORIARTY: Quite right. I put the kettle on before you woke up. Two sugars as usual, Holmes?

HOLMES: Once again you try to trick me, old enemy. You know perfectly well that I drink it black.

MORIARTY snaps his fingers.

MORIARTY: Foiled again, Holmes!

it was meant to be really bad, because Holmes (the real one for the play) comes out and demands to know what Watson (the real one for the play) is writing, at which point the actual play would start 😂😂

Tempest Mac is, I think, the only sci-fi story I’ve ever written?? it’s about this little girl in the future, in space, who’s Catholic and who meets an alien, while also solving important mysteries (like where the cookie jar went 😂😂)

that...was pretty much all the plot I had planned out, I think

but here’s what I had:

Someone had moved the cookie jar again.

Tempest Mac made a thoughtful face as she considered the scene of the crime. Then she went and fetched a tall stool, a flashlight, and a thick book detailing the customs and mannerisms of the Hazien people (which she was only a quarter of the way through, having only started at breakfast this morning). One never knew what might come in handy.

Just as she had gotten the book settled in place on the countertop, with one foot balanced neatly on the stool and the other on the book, and was peering into the highest cupboard with the flashlight, a shrill, startled voice rang out behind her. “Tempest! What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Finding the cookie jar, Aunti,” Tempest replied calmly, still shining the flashlight into the cupboard. In addition, they weren’t on Earth, they were on Haz—a few hundred lightyears away—so really, Aunti should have said, ‘What on Haz do you think you’re doing?’ but she knew when to let things go. “Somebody’s moved it again.”

“You don’t need a cookie right now, you’ve just had lunch,” her aunt scolded, lifting her off the stool and onto the ground without hardly any effort. “Wait until after dinner.”

“I don’t want a cookie, I want to know who keeps moving the cookie jar,” Tempest protested, but Aunti paid her no heed and sent her out of the kitchen to water the small garden out back.

Tempest Mac was six years old, small of stature, and what some people referred to as ‘precocious.’ Tempest gently argued with these people that no, she wasn’t precocious, she simply thought thoughts in a sensible way. Nevertheless, her grave eyes, quiet way of asking commonsense questions, and aptitude at reading far above her age level made the debate moot, as far as people were concerned.

Most people would rather chalk up things and people who don’t appear to make sense at first as anomalies, rather than investigate further. But then, this is because many people see the world like a black ink stamp pattern on a clean sheet of paper—easy, simple and pretty, in an orderly, bureaucratic sort of way. If the world is ordered and lovely in its organization, then so too can lives and people be the same way. If the world is a jumbled, chaotic, sloppy finger-painting done by an overenthusiastic four year old, then it is much harder for people to convince themselves that their lives may be ordered and simplistic. Such is life.

There’s a reason “Aunti” is spelled the way it is, but for the life of me I can’t remember why

#ask #my writing #I hadn't read the Sherlock one in years and I'd forgotten all about it 😂

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

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Cerebus #16 (1980)

Cerebus is going up the stairs while Lord Julius is going down them. In the same direction.

Cerebus is often touted as the greatest independent comic book of all time (for various reasons) but I'd like to point out that Elfquest told an incredible story with beautiful art in just 20 issues as opposed to 300. Plus it had an elf orgy. Also, I know it continued on after the first 20 issue story arc but we can ignore the rest of the story because there was never another elf orgy and also the rest of the series concentrated too much on Skywise's fear of dying which was totally valid but was often used as a foil to make Cutter seem braver and more loyal to his wolf roots but really just showed he was stubborn and dumb and totally didn't fuck as many elf maidens as Skywise did. Cerebus does have some sex in his comic book but since the first sex he has is when he rapes Astoria, I don't think anybody was really clamoring for any more of that. I mean, sure, some people were! I didn't mean to erase the sickos and perverts out there. Sorry, jerks! I'm sure the "A Note from the Publisher" bit by Deni seemed like a good idea when starting out on a harrowing self-publishing journey like that of Cerebus. But it quickly became a space where Deni just says, "Self-publishing is fraught with hardships and also this is a really good issue! I won't spoil it! Goodbye!" I won't be sad to see the divorce happen! That's an okay thing to say because it already happened, right? It's not like my wishing for the end of their marriage in 2020 somehow brought about the end of their marriage in the early 80s. Is it? I never took a college course on cause and effect so who the fuck knows? Unless that Critical Literary Theory class was about that?! Oh my God! I think I understand it now! Dave's finale to the "Swords of Cerebus" essay that has been broken up over the last three issues describes how he was consciously drawing the Eye of the Pyramid cult leader's gigantic penis while drawing the snake. Sorry to report, though, that he's being sarcastic. Apparently Dave is above using phallic imagery to make a point about patriarchal themes. Only fucking hacks do shit like that! Take that, whoever wrote fucking Beowulf!

Even if Sim can't see the humor in everybody assuming he made a giant snake dick joke on purpose, he can still be extraordinarily funny with the least of materials.

This issue takes Cerebus to his first fancy dress party (that's a costume party for all of you people who aren't British (which is also me but only because I was born a citizen of the United States of America who didn't have a choice but knew it was a huge mistake as I was learning about Monty Python's Flying Circus and Dave Allen at Large in elementary school and The Young Ones in junior high and Red Dwarf in college)). Cerebus changes out of his vest and puts on his costume: a furry black jumper (that's sweater for all of you people who aren't British (which is also me but only because I was forced to watch mostly American popular entertainment until the advent of YouTube and now I mostly just watch Taskmaster over and over (by the way, is Taskmaster as good for people who don't know all of the "contestants" or do I enjoy it more because I recognize and like almost all of the people on the show?)). Lord Julius is dressed as an, um, a, uh, Estarcion matador? I have no context in which to guess what he is.

Certain people like Cerebus because he says what's on his mind. I purposefully used the passive voice here so you can't prove one of those people is me.

Lord Julius has a follow-up joke that leaves the reader thinking, "I guess all Pavrovians are fat?" That's Dave Sim continuing his work on Estarcion continuity! Remember how Pavrovians are the, um, you knows of Estarcion! You know the nationality I'm thinking of! The ones that are all the things people usually find insulting! Come on, you know who I'm talking about. The dumb fat arrogant stupid naive gullible ones! Yes, that's it! Americans! Try to remember Dave is Canadian. You have to think of Americans through Canadian eyes (which are the equivalent of smart, cynical Americans)! E'lass and Turg have gotten tickets to The Festival of Petunias so they can steal the Wyndmel Diamond. They're the duo composed of a giant muscular man and a little bitty shrimpy guy who last encountered (and were beaten by) Cerebus in Issue #6. E'lass is dressed like some kind of small dirt dwelling creature so I hope Cerebus gets offended by his costume and stabs him in the throat. There isn't enough random slaughter in this book about barbarians.

I haven't wanted to fuck a fish this badly since The Littler Mermaid.

I suppose I could have said "since Splash" in that last caption to seem more normal and less perverted but then you'd know I was lying. The assassins make a move on Lord Julius but Cerebus comes up with a plan to stop them that involves inducing the Palnu elite to throw herring-and-onion dip at them. Is that a parodied scene from Duck Soup or Conan the Barbarian? In the confusion, the lead assassin slips out through a secret door and E'lass, having just stolen the diamond and becoming increasingly paranoid that somebody saw him, slips through it as well. Cerebus and Lord Julius follow, having noticed the assassin but not E'lass. Most of the pursuit's tension comes from E'lass believing Cerebus remembers him and is now going to use the excuse of this new crime to murder him. It's more tense than I've even described because I really need Cerebus to murder somebody in this Swords & Sorcery book already. Reading this book waiting for a murder is like firing up a porn video on your laptop with your dick in your hands and realizing after five minutes that the video is almost over and was just a teaser for a pay porn site. Cerebus threatens to quit his job just before battling the assassin so he can negotiate a term of 8 bags of gold and a horse in exchange for killing the assassin as a pension before he goes. Julius agrees and Cerebus takes out the assassin with a rock to the head. I mean, I guess it's a murder so yay? But I was really hoping for some stabbing. Meanwhile E'lass lives through the cliché of the criminal whose paranoia gets the better of him and he tosses the diamond into a huge pit so he doesn't get caught only to discover that they never knew he took it anyway. Everything is wrapped up quickly and thoroughly with Cerebus given money and motivation to move on from Palnu. Dave complained about his heavy use of cliché in this Palnu trilogy and I have to say I agree with Dave. But I only agree with Dave on this point! Don't take that out of context and start raving on Twitter that Grunion Guy agrees with Dave's Issue #186 rant about girlfriends being illogical which is also secretly a rant about a guy who needs to get laid so badly he puts up with partners he probably wouldn't even be friends with and then finally just decides orgasms are evil and religion is super awesome but only if you smash all three People of The Book religions into one bland mash paste of ancient dogma. In the epilogue, Lord Julius receives a letter from his niece Jaka in which she expresses delight in possibly seeing Cerebus again. I guess Dave learned from Howard the Duck that comic book nerds really love for their anthropomorphic heroes to be fucking statuesque women. Perhaps every guy develops a fetish of being with a woman whose breasts are at head level due to being hugged constantly by their female relatives when they're ten years old. Deni's brother Michael's first installment of the "Aardvarkian Age" essays appears in this issue. It gives more details to the various nations of Estarcion and their inhabitants' culture, ruling styles, and brutality of their armies. I thought I'd be more interested in this than I actually wound up being. Maybe I thought it would be funnier? Instead, it's just a bunch of facts about made-up kingdoms to make them sound more believable by making them more like European countries in the Middle Ages. If this entire bit were just lifted from a history of Europe with the names of actual countries replaced by Estarcion countries, I wouldn't even notice. Mostly because I know nothing about European history. As I've always said, "Those who know about European history are doomed to repeat it, boring every single other person at the cocktail party." Dave apologizes for the quarter price increase of the comic book in the Aardvark Comments pages. Why, I hadn't even noticed! Probably because this is the Biweekly reprint issue and I purchased it as a collection off of eBay. Some people write in and discuss how Cerebus is a very fine and funny comic book. I nodded along in agreement as I read the letters. I only touched my private area twice while reading and neither time was for pleasure. The most surprising thing about "The Single Page" is that it clearly states who the comic was authored by: Kent Featherly. I don't know why so many of these single page comics aren't more clearly labeled. Isn't part of the reason for having them exposure for the artists drawing and writing them?! Not putting an effort to let a large audience know who you are and how they can read more of your work just sounds like something I would do. By the way, you should play this game I wrote, Starship Troopers: The Game. You can find it on the hard drive of my laptop. Cerebus #16 Rating: B. Look, it was funny and well drawn and all that. But even Dave said it relied too heavily on cliché plot devices. I've got to lower the grade when even the author points out some of the story's flaws! And I'd probably have come to the same conclusion without having been influenced by Dave Sim because I'm like the best Internet comic book critic who isn't a critic and isn't actually reviewing comic books. Also I almost forgot this evidence: I'm a Grandmaster Comic Book Reviewer! Nobody else can make that claim and if they do, they're plagiarizing me and I'd like you to point them out to me so I can send them a threatening email in which I pretend to be my own lawyer who is really good at suing dumb-dumbs.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

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mydorkycreations · 4 years

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for the love language asks, could I ask for Jasper, Friday, Hiroki, Aaron, Forest, Winter, Candace, and Tiffany? OH, also Gretchen and Amadeus, if u don't mind??? I jst. Love all of them.

You CAN ask for them all of them! I’ll kinda do this by ranking of most preferred to least preferred :)

Also this got very long I’m sorry

Jasper:

Quality time-- he loves being around people he likes, and feels neglected/misses people if they don’t spend time with him for a while

Gifts-- he loves to give things and get things, especially if it’s involving food, and he has a mental list of things that he knows his friends like/dislike that he just kinda always has in the back of his mind

Touch-- he’s not overly touchy, tbh. Like, it’s nice and all, but it feels a little less personal than like spending actual time together or giving someone something in general

Words of affirmation-- as odd as this may sound, he doesn’t really need a hype man or verbal affirmation. He can figure things out on his own. Compliments are nice, though, and communication is important, so he puts some effort into this one even if it isn’t necessarily his thing per se

Acts of service-- he appreciates someone making an effort to make his life easier and generally tries to do the same, but he considers it more of a being polite thing rather than an actual act of affection. Plus, he can be particular about some things (especially with the way the kitchen is organized) and so sometimes the help isn’t always as helpful as the helper thinks

Friday:

Words of affirmation-- she tries not to show it, but words have a major impact on her, both positively and negatively. A compliment can make her day and a rude comment can just as easily ruin it. She’s very shy about saying nice things to other people, though, in case the compliment is rejected

Touch-- she’s insecure about it because it’s something her mother actively discouraged, but she ADORES physical affection. Once she’s comfortable enough with Jasper someone to feel like she can without getting in trouble, the poor soul is in near danger of being smothered in it

Quality time-- it’s an acceptable, straightforward way to show affection that’s more difficult to pull off when ulterior motives are in play, and she appreciates it for that

Acts of service-- someone??? did something NICE for her??? Unrealistic. She tends to think of this more as someone trying to like get her attention than be nice

Gifts-- this one is Odd because she hates getting gifts, but gives them all the time because she’s rich and has money to throw around, so I’m putting it on the bottom

Hiroki:

Touch-- Hiroki is INCREDIBLY tactile, possibly because of the way his powers work as extensions of himself. Unless there’s a reason not to, he’s touching his friends almost constantly, and can recognize most of their silhouettes by feel when he’s using his powers to sense people. He’ll pick up on any sort of unusual response to/rejection of contact immediately

Quality time-- listen, when you’re an introvert, deciding someone is worth spending time with is A Big Deal, especially if it’s one on one, and he doesn’t hand it out lightly

Acts of service-- to do something for someone so they don’t have to, and then have them do the same for you, is that not an incredible thing? He certainly thinks it is. It would be #2, but there is also Extreme Mental Trauma associated with this one and it’s demoted to #3 as a result

Gifts-- he appreciates gifts (especially if they’re useful), but by and large his habit of knitting things for other people stems from the fact that if he made everything for himself he’d have probably filled his entire apartment with knitted things by now than any real fondness for the gift giving or receiving process

Words of affirmation-- by and large, he thinks that words are cheap. Ironic, because he was an English major, but still

Aaron:

Gifts-- Aaron loves getting gifts. Aaron loves giving gifts. Aaron will spend money he doesn’t have to get people gifts because gifts are important

Words of affirmation-- he’s not really confident enough for you to be able to just let him read between the lines and make a judgement himself, and thrives at praise and clear verbal communication. Will tell you exactly how he feels and how fond he is of you at the drop of a hat

Touch-- physical affection is nice. Not his favorite but not bad by any meansit’s

Acts of service-- yes, okay, people doing things for you is nice and all, but people go and do things or give money to charity for the warm fuzzy feelings while not giving a single flying fuck about the people who are really impacted by it, it’s not really a surefire sign that they like you

Quality time-- like, yes, it’s nice spending time with people but it doesn’t really vibe with him as an affection source. Like you could spend every day hanging out with him and he’ll still be like “but do they like me?”

Forest (I went with young Forest here-- I’m still getting to know older Forest a bit):

Quality time-- I once read a theory that your love languages are defined by what you lacked in your youth. This is very true in this instance. You can instantly tell who Forest gravitates towards by looking at who leaves with him at parties

Touch-- grant it, touch is just a Bigger Thing culturally in the magical realm (given that physical contact between some kinds of magical entities would be physically painful for one or both parties), so maybe that disqualifies this, but yeah touching is a very major thing

Words of affirmation-- he loves to verbally flirt and be flirted with, but aside from that very specific scenario he doesn’t really care all that much

Acts of service-- acts of service and gifts are probably about the same, but you could kind of classify Winter catching his attention by sparing his life an act of service, and then they fall in love, so I’m putting this one at #4. The bastard is in a laughably wealthy ruling class, he just expects people to do things for him, so that’s not a big deal to him (although actually doing something for someone else kinda is)

Gifts-- again, rich and politics Grant it you could call some of those gifts bribes but that’s an ugly word, don’t you think?

Winter:

Acts of service-- the need to look after and help people he cares about if they ever need it is literally what’s kept him alive, and putting it anything other than first would be a disservice. And he takes on so much that any effort made to make his life easier means the world to him

Quality time-- why do you think he never just forged Candace legal documentation and sent her to normal school or daycare? Why do you think he’s so prone to be lonely? He needs time with people

Gifts-- he loves receiving gifts in particular. They’re something to remember people by once they’re gone and parting with them would be terrible for him. But he gives gifts, too. They’re less often physical objects and more often advice or stories, although that changes with Candace as he gets old because he knows he likes having physical things to remember people by so maybe it’ll help her, too

Words of affirmation-- he still appreciates them, don’t misunderstand. And he doesn’t skimp out on telling his kids he loves them. It’s just not his favorite way to receive or show affection

Touch-- again, Magical Realm’s touching is a much less casual of a thing and it’s not really as needed as it is with humans. Between that and his lack of body heat being unnerving to a lot of humans that aren’t used to it, he just... didn’t, really. At all. Like touch was for sex and otherwise he kept little to no physical contact. It’s a big regret he has raising his earlier kids, because he just didn’t know that humans are so innately touchy feely. He probably raised at least one touch starved human on accident (he also adopted a hugging schedule later when he realized “oh shit I’ve fucked up” until he got used to casual contact)

Candace:

Quality time-- if you like someone, you spend time with them? It just makes sense to her (although that doesn't make her immune to the classic "Daaaad leave me alone" complaints)

Acts of service-- you care about someone, you look out for them. Winter’s taught her that very well

Words of affirmation-- she doesn’t need it constantly, but if she does something she’s really proud of she craves validation for it, and will go around showing everyone her new sword that she figured out how to make shoot lightning until someone’s like “wow nice work”

Touch-- she’s not very into casual touching, but if you become a level 5 or above friend you unlock the Cuddle Feature and that is nigh unstoppable once it starts, she’s like a goddamn cat

Gifts-- she’s a dichotomy of loving to give gifts and not really enjoying getting them because she herself isn’t very materialistic (unless you’re giving her swords. Or daggers. Or shields. Or, uh, old school style weapons in general).

Tiffany:

Quality time-- I hesitate to use the word “clingy,” but, uh. There is a definite “pay ATTENTION TO ME” bit of her personality if you leave her on her lonesome for too long

Touch-- Tiff is just a cuddlebug. There isn’t much of another way to describe it. Fortunately her and Candace have been over level 5 friends since they were both knee high to a toadstool

Gifts-- if you give her something, she’ll cherish it forever, and she loves to find things for her friends to give them (even if most of the time it’s cool rocks from the bottom of whatever body of water she’s currently living on with Amadeus)

Acts of service-- she doesn’t think much of it if she does something for somebody else because that’s just how she was raised, but if someone helps her out? She’ll remember it forever

Words of affirmation-- like, okay it’s nice to be verbally appreciated but she doesn’t need it

Gretchen

Quality time-- time is growing less important to her the longer she lives-- immortality can have that effect on people sometimes-- but time simply spent together is still something she heavily gravitates towards

Words of affirmation-- there are few words she loves better than “I’m proud of you” or “good job.” Loves that sweet validation

Acts of service-- she’s very devoted once she grows attached to someone, although sometimes she thinks she knows best when she really doesn’t

Touch-- touching is,, fine. Not great, but it’s okay

Gifts-- she’s immortal. What need does she have for trinkets?

Amadeus

Gifts-- do you think that them not charging Winter for an ounce of booze he’s drank for centuries is an accident? It’s not. They know it’s not really in his best interest, but they can’t bring themselves to deny him a way out of his own mind for a while

Acts of service-- this primarily surfaces in a sort of hovering/annoying parent sort of way. They’ll fuss over anyone

Words of affirmation-- words aren’t as good as something tangible, but still nice. Amadeus has a tendency to be almost transactional in their relationships. They do things for Friend, Friend does things for them. That’s what friendship is

Touch-- eh, it’s fine but they don’t get the hype. Probably because they’re living water

Quality time-- ironic, I know, but they can almost be absent, some of the time. They’d rather do things FOR you than just spend time with you without a purpose

#asks #from ask game #friend tag #Winter (oc)#Forest (oc)#Jasper Rift #Friday Milewski #Aaron the delivery guy #Hiroki Sato #Gretchen (oc)#Amadeus (oc)#Tiffany Waters #Candace Frost #also i'm so sorry this took so long jkslfjsklfjsklfjsd

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shieldfoss · 4 years

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Second Session - a wolf hunt

The same people again - Gnome Artificer (Gart), Half-Elf Sorcerer (Heso), Half-Elf Monk (Hemo), and Drow Sorcerer (Deso)

The obvious thing to do, having been to Vemb and seen the tracks of people being dragged into the sea, is to get your hands on a boat. Those are expensive.

So as a purely instrumental secondary choice, you gotta go wolf hunting for that quick cash. The Warden of the March offers a bounty on wolf pelts, and a significantly bigger bounty on an answer to this question: Why are the wolves killing his sheep but not eating them?

Side tip for you, DM to DM, that I tried out and it worked out super well: If you have a solid random encounter table, roll encounters ahead of time. It lets you flow these things completely into each other in an extremely organic way. I got lizardfolk hunters (There were two: Nightspear and Ebony/Longtooth); 6 wolves; 1 lone worg (Likely to run at first sign of trouble); and a Yuan-ti Patrol.

A powerful storm is roaring over the land and everything is getting soaked, but hearty adventurers being who they are, and the Warden’s lands being only a short brisk march west of Vesterhavn, the party sets out late in the afternoon because Low Light Vision means never having to apologize -_-.

So pretty late in the evening, after dusk, they come to the first of the warden’s sheepsteads[1] as they’re about ready to turn in for the night. The party call out to the last farmhand before he heads inside and have a brief talk where they cover the essentials - sheep are being mutilated, wolf attacks aren’t the worlds biggest mystery to shepherds and they’ve had a few before but recently - within the last two or three months, say - they’ve had some really weird attacks where the sheep have been savaged and their heads completely destroyed, but the carcasses left uneaten. Nobody has actually seen any wolves do this peculiar thing but what else could it be? And either case, the bounty is for wolf pelts.

The party heads for the site of the latest attack to search for clues, but as they crest a hill they spot through gloom and darkness two lizardfolk standing exactly at the site of the attack. Nightspear and Ebony/Longtooth are skilled hunters both but (sans darkvision or lowlight vision) they’re about to quit for the day and make camp when the party sees them - though at this distance, the two lizardfolk are just two large humanoid shapes.

A quick whispered conference. A decision to sneak closer.

Once they’re close enough to overhear the lizardfolk, they realize that only Heso speaks draconic (almost instinctually, the knowledge transferred through his bloodline) and that’s the tongue the lizardfolk are talking in - nothing interesting though. “Bad hunt.” “Sleep soon.”

Because the dark elf player is Like That (does literally every group have a player who is like that) he decides to sneak around and approach the lizard folk from the side as the rest of the party makes their presence clear and approach the lizard folk directly. (He doesn’t even have Sneak Attack! He’s👏🏻A👏🏻Sorcerer👏🏻!)

So anyway, they get to talking - the lizardfolk are surprised to see them, but not immediately hostile, especially since the party hails them on approach which rather does tend to signal that you’re not planning an assault. They’re here as hunters, they say. Hunters of what? Hunters of anything, what’ve you got?

At this point in the conversation, the lizardfolk look at the party. There’s a gnome in tinkerer’s clothes under a waterlogged traveler’s cloak. There’s a half-elf in court robes (under a waterlogged traveler’s cloak,) There’s a half-elf literally without any weapons. They don’t any of them have knives. They have one single ranged weapon among them (there’s another in the tinkerer’s pack where the lizardfolk cannot see it.) “We’re here to find out what killed this sheep and hunt it down to take its teeth. What brings you people here?”

The party claims to be hunters, too.

So anyway it’s at this point Nightspear realizes there’s somebody sneaking up on them.

Nightspear is not a subtle type of person. Nightspear does not manage to hide that he knows, he instantly freezes, as would be very appropriate if e.g. a deer was about to spot him.

Everybody else notices Nightspear freeze except Ebony/Longtooth who has been the main conversationalist and so has taken a step forward and has his back to Nightspear.

Several things happen at once.

Heso asks Nightspear “What’s happening?” (I honestly have no idea if he doesn’t know (because he hasn’t paid attention) or if he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t know to gain some imagined advantage or if he’s trying to keep Nightspear focused on him or what the fuck)

Everybody else looks directly at the spot Nightspear’s body language implies he’s worried about

Ebony/Longtooth realizes something real weird could be about to happen and starts turning around

Deso stands up from the tall grass he’s been sneaking through because obviously that’s what you do if you’ve been caught I guess?

WHY ARE YOU EVEN CLOSE ENOUGH TO BE SPOTTED

YOU’RE A SORCERER YOU DON’T HAVE SNEAK ATTACK

WHAT IS THIS

I DON’T UNDERSTAND PLAYERS

Deso has a plan though. I seriously have no idea why he decided to sneak up on the fucking lizardfolk, but having been caught at it, he has a plan. It’s not actually a bad plan. Deso is going to play this off like it’s nothing. He’s just going to stand up and rely on the fact that he is that cool and collected, plus normalcy bias, to convey that nothing weird is going on, what, doesn’t your people play sneaking games?

Through the high natural Charisma required of sorcerers and an astounding roll of the dice, he pulls this off. Nightspear is too embarrassed at letting a threat get this close to make something of it, and Ebony/Longtooth, who’s just slightly late at realizing what’s going on, takes his cues from Nightspear rather than insert himself into this whole thing.

So Ebony/Longtooth turns back to Heso and asks, if they’re such great hunters, where should you go to find the beast that did this attack?

This is the part where the party realizes they’re not actually hunters, they’re people on a hunt which is not exactly the same. Well, everybody except Gart who, it turns out, is actually a hunter, or at least has the Survival skill.

It’s been 14 days since the attack. It’s in the night. There’s a storm on. It’s a guess and a gut feeling more than evidence, but it’s the opposite direction of the sheepstead which is definitely not the best direction for a monster to come from. Gart avoids the critical mistake of appearing underconfident by explaining, just points south west and says “That way.” The lizardfolk are surprised the gnome, absent any real search, instantly came to the same conclusion they had reached after half an hour at the site and concede that maybe these strangers are hunters, just real weird hunters.

Well what are you hunting here? We thought all small-folk were herders and planters?

Actually we’re hunting the same thing you lizards are, what a coincidence, wanna join up?

A bit of negotiation ensues, but after the lizardfolk are assured the small folk only want the skins bul will happily leave flesh and teeth to the lizards, they all agree to hunt together.

At midnight, the weather improves markedly - the rain stops and the wind stills except for a mild warm breeze blowing in from the north.

In the much improved visibility, they find six wolves. Nothing much to say about the ensuing combat except this: One wolf manages to flee, and the remaining wolves manage to deal enough damage that the (first level) party decides to do a short rest.

The lizardfolk declare that five wolves is plenty of prey for them at this time and they will head back home with their catch after the skins have been taken off for the players to return with.

At this point, one of the players (I forget who) says: “Wait. What do their feet look like? Do we still have the sketch from the beach? (Yes they still have the sketch. The feet look extremely similar to those of the oceanic raiders, though perhaps larger)

In the ensuing conversation, the party manages to, through the translationary efforts of Heso

(1) make fun of the lizardmen for not being part of the gold-based economy,

(2) ask a lot of questions about the ocean that the lizards, sixty miles west, have no answers to,

(3) imply a lot of things about cannibalism and

(4) insult the lizardmen for being such pathetic hunters that they’ll be satisfied bringing back 5 wolves.

Apparently the goal was to goad them into sticking around and helping out with further hunting?

Player Characters I Swear 2 Fucking God

Listen up you little punk, Lizardfolk have a lot of respect for magic, and a lot of respect for dragons, and a lot of respect for dragon-magic sorcerers, but if you think they’re gonna sit here and take that shit from your can’t track can’t carry can’t stab non-hunter ass, you’ve got another thing coming.

Anyway they part ways, not amicably. (The lizardfolk head south, not west, despite earlier having claimed to come from the west.)

It’s at this point as the lizardfolk are leaving that Deso says “I stand up and take a good look around.”

Far away, in the direction the fleeing wolf ran, he sees a wolf and a separate, significantly bigger, wolf. The two wolves turn and disappear behind a hill, and the party decides that, since they’ve got some skins anyway and it’s only a few hours back to town, and they’re kind of low on spells, perhaps discretion is the significantly better part of valor right now?

[1] I swear sheepstead is a word but my browser is putting a big ol’ red line under it.

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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Black Dragons

This is a bizarre and thoroughly mismanaged WWII yellow peril movie. It features Bela Lugosi and Joan Barclay, both of whom we’ve seen before in The Corpse Vanishes, and was produced by Sam Katzman, who brought us both The Corpse Vanishes and Teenage Crime Wave (also The Giant Claw). I liked The Corpse Vanishes. It was fun, fast-paced, and in some ways surprisingly feminist. Black Dragons is none of those things.

It’s 1942, and Japan has just bombed Pearl Harbour, forcing Americans to stop ignoring World War II. Stock footage of stuff burning and blowing up is implied to be the work of a bunch of indistinguishable suited men who are sabotaging the allied war effort. They’re standing around one evening congratulating themselves on how evil they are, when a mysterious Monsieur Coulombe arrives and talks privately with one of them, a Dr. Saunders Coulombe hypnotizes or drugs Saunders somehow – and in the days that follow, the conspirators start turning up dead, each with a souvenir from the renaissance faire… oh, excuse me, a Japanese dagger… in one hand. What the hell is going on?

Well, the ending is supposed to be a surprise, but I’m gonna spoil it for you to save you having to watch the stupid movie. All the victims, plus Dr. Saunders, are actually Japanese operatives from the Order of Black Dragons who had plastic surgery to turn them into the doubles of American businessmen! The originals were killed, and the duplicates took their places… and the surgeon? He was a Nazi who did it as a favour from the Fuhrer, but afterwards the Order tried to kill him so that he could never reveal the plan to anyone. He escaped, and went to the States to murder them in revenge for their betrayal!

As ideas for an espionage movie go, this one reaches near golden-age comics levels of absurdity and as such it’s almost kind of brilliant. A movie that used this plot to its full ridiculous potential could be great fun – I especially like that it pits two sets of villains against each other, while the supposed good guys spend most of the film completely clueless. Black Dragons, however, was rushed onto theatre screens within four months of the bombing of Pearl Harbour, and it’s an utter mess with no idea what to do with its premise.

For being made in 1942, Black Dragons mostly doesn’t look bad. There are no scenes so dark you can’t see what’s happening, and we get an idea of things like the layout of Dr. Saunders’ house. The characters all kind of look alike but I’ve just had to accept the idea that all white men had the same face until about 1965. The steps of the Japanese Embassy are obviously somebody’s house with a sign on the door, but I can forgive them that, and the voices sound a little brassy and indistinct but no more so than in The Corpse Vanishes. The main technical flaw in the film is that most of it has a constant crackling noise in the background, sounding kind of like heavy rain. This is obviously a problem with the print itself, since it continues as we switch scenes from Washington to Philadelphia, and it is very annoying and confusing.

No, almost all of Black Dragons’ many problems are in the writing. Just based on the premise you can guess that the movie is racist – we’ve got the ‘Japanese dagger’ that doesn’t look even remotely Japanese, and Japanese characters (even some of those who are supposed to look Japanese) played by white guys in costumes and makeup, speaking in fake accents. And as for the racial issues inherent in the plastic surgery plot point... I don’t actually feel qualified to address those.

What is slightly more surprising is that it’s also egregiously sexist. There’s a woman living with Dr. Saunders who’s supposed to be his niece Alice, worried about all the weird things happening around her. She turns out to be a policewoman who’s there to spy on the fake Dr. Saunders, and she gets shouted at for being entirely incompetent when she fails to solve anything (it must be admitted that she didn’t try very hard).

Everything that surrounds this character is just terrible. She’s there to be one (1) pretty girl, like the film is trying to fill some kind of quota. Alice is introduced when the chief of police suggests that detective Dick Martin might get somewhere by questioning her. Martin responds, “let me guess, she’s fifty and flat-footed, and wears glasses.” Oh my god, you poor thing, you might have to talk to an unattractive woman! She flirts with Dr. Coulombe throughout the film, even as he hangs around being ridiculously off-putting and creepy. The revelation that she’s a spy herself explains this, I guess, since she must have been doing it in the hope of learning something from him, but it never avails her anything and is, in the end, useless, much like Alice herself.

The worst moment is when Martin, who has been trying to get her to move out of this dangerous house, walks into the room and out of nowhere says, “Alice, will you marry me?” She stares at him like he’s crazy and asks, “what for?”, and I swear to you he actually replies, “so I can beat you up. It’s the only way I’ll get you out of here.” I had to pause the movie and watch it again because I couldn’t believe I’d just heard that. I have combed the internet for a gif that expresses a sufficient level of what the fuck for this line and I cannot find one. I need Shikha again.

Black Dragons really has no hero. The closest thing on offer is Detective Martin, who is honestly just as useless as Alice. I usually enjoy movies that are just a bunch of bad guys trying to thwart each other, but this is actually Black Dragons’ biggest mistake. If this were supposed to be a suspense film, then we really ought to be focused on Martin (and possibly Alice) trying to solve the mystery. Martin sees the Japanese agents as upstanding citizens in danger, and he is doing his best to help them but has started to suspect that the victims aren’t as innocent as they appear.

That has the potential to be an interesting story with a surprising twist at the end, but Black Dragons is not told from Martin’s point of view. Instead, the audience is privy to at least some of the secrets from the beginning. We already know that the murder victims are the bad guys, because we watched them brag about it to each other. We watch Coulombe killing them (though the way he behaves, it would be obvious he’s the murderer even if we didn’t) and hear him calling them by Japanese-sounding names before they die. By the time we get to what should be the twist, we’ve already figured most of this out (while Martin hasn’t a clue), and the only surprise is that Coulombe’s motivation is personal revenge rather than being a government assassin, as I initially assumed.

A version of the movie that actually tried to keep its secrets secret could also have something I kind of hoped we would see but never did, which is the conspirators interacting with their families. At least some of the men who were replaced ought to have had parents, siblings, wives, or children, unless they were chosen specifically for being orphaned bachelors with no friends – and that doesn’t seem likely when we know Dr. Saunders had a niece he was close to. Watching the people around these men feeling like there’s something different but not sure what it is would have been nice and creepy, but Black Dragons is not that subtle.

It’s all doubly unfortunate because there is some cool stuff in this movie. There’s a bit where rather than killing two of the conspirators himself, Coulombe tricks them into killing each other. That was nicely done. His creative methods of hiding bodies are fun, too. The fact that he ultimately dumps them on the steps of the Japanese embassy with an unconvincing ‘cultural artefact’ in their hands seems like it ought to mean something, like he’s trying to either alert the Americans to the threat or the Japanese to his survival, but nothing is ever really made of this and we never see what the head of the Order of Black Dragons thinks of it at all, as he is seen only in flashback.

The biggest problem with the whole concept behind Black Dragons is the same one as in Hercules Unchained: they needed to make a movie really fast in order to capitalize on something, and just didn’t have time to figure out what they were actually doing. Hercules Unchained was a movie that tried to have two storylines at one, neither connected to each other and one of them only barely connected to its main character. Black Dragons isn’t even sure who its main character is. Dick Martin is the nearest thing to a hero, but an argument could equally be made that this story is about Coulombe as antihero. The result is a film that’s trying to do too much and too little at the same time. And of course, Black Dragons’ intentions are way less honourable than Hercules Unchained’s. Hercules Unchained just wanted to capitalize on a popular film. Black Dragons was capitalizing on a literal act of war!

A version of Black Dragons that tried to do justice to its silly premise would still have been a bad movie. It would still be an old, grainy print with sound issues, and it would still be deeply racist (among many, many other things, there’s a particularly detestable bit where Coulombe insults the Japanese operatives by calling them ‘apes’) and probably still have that stunningly horrible line about how you have to marry a woman before you’re allowed to beat her. But it would have been a much more interesting and entertaining bad movie than it ultimately ended up being.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #black dragons #tw: abuse #40s

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ordinarytalk · 5 years

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I am So Tired

I have four little sisters, and all of them thrive on various levels of drama. I’m sharing a summary of the text conversation that’s been going on in the sisters-only chat for the last couple of days, because I gotta complain to someone about this. Cut for length

Cast of Characters From Oldest To Youngest:

Me (Me) - “the weird one,” stays out of family fights, not at all chill but keeps most of their shit away from the family so everybody thinks they’re mostly chill

Connecticut Sister (CS) - Bossy, used to be a bully but has chilled out since childhood. Twin and mortal enemy of WS.

Wisconsin Sister (WS) - A Complete Mess, needs everything to be about her, has not chilled out at all since childhood. Wants everybody to come back and live in Wisconsin, and frequently acts like we betrayed her by moving to other states with better job prospects. Twin and mortal enemy of CS.

Massachusetts Sister (MS) - Very chill, accommodating, has opinions but won’t voice them unless she thinks everybody else she’s speaking to has the same opinion

South Carolina Sister (SCS) - Not Chill, used to be the most dramatic sister until WS stepped up, gives zero shits about offending someone, almost never speaks to the rest of the family besides CS and Mom. Borderline alcoholic.

The Topic: What to get Mom for Mother’s Day

CS: Hey, so Mother’s Day is coming up. Some of us were discussing it earlier, and we thought we should get Mom a good mobile GPS or a gift card for her to choose her own GPS since she’s spending the summer hiking the Ice Age Trail!

MS: Love the idea! Do you know how much that would cost so we know how much to put in?

SCS: We can stuff a hiking water bottle with supplies and give that to her.

Me: Maybe the gift card? I want to make sure she gets something she’ll use! *immediately silences my phone and forgets to check it for a day*

WS: ALL Mom really wants is for you all to come home and hike with her. I know that costs more and will take more time and effort, but I know she wants that and I’ll help you with it.

CS: ...we wanted to get her something to help with her hiking. Coming home would cost $400/person minimum. That’s a lot of money, and we all have different schedules. It takes months to organize any family get togethers.

WS: What would actually help her would be you guys coming home and going to some state parks.

CS: I think you’re missing the point.

WS: No I’m really not.

CS: You are. When Mom hikes alone, we want her to have some safety measures in place. That’s what we were discussing earlier.

CS, in a second sister chat for every sister except WS: Somebody else jump in, I am going to kill her. She lives with Mom and hasn’t hiked with Mom once, and she’s still trying to guilt trip us into coming home? Why does she have to turn everything into a big thing?

MS: On it!

MS, in the main chat: *long, soulful, stirring speech about family and how much we all mean to each other and how difficult it is to get time off and how we’d all be home more if we could, finishing with a request that WS represent all of us by going with Mom on a hike maybe?*

MS, undoing all the good she just created with a single extra sentence: Plus, if you hiked more, you would lose weight and be one hot mama for your wedding!

WS, who is constantly harassed about her weight, is very sensitive about her weight, and exercises daily to the point of obsession: *loses it*

MS, WS, CS: *pages of bickering*

SCS: I need a glass of wine after reading this.

MS, WS, CS: *pages of bickering*

Me, finding 100+ messages on my phone after I ignored it for a day: Uh. So, we doing gift card over GPS or what?

WS: LET’S TALK ABOUT MY WEDDING!

Me: But...the gift card? How muc-

WS: My ~♥☼≈º°W°E°D°D°I°N°G°º≈☼♥~

The Next Day, in the WS-free sister chat:

MS: So, WS told Mom about our present idea.

Me: The GPS or the gift card?

MS: Both.

CS: Ugh why does this have to be such an ordeal? She probably did that hoping Mom would say she didn’t want those and WS could say ‘I told you so!’

MS: She did it to complain about us, and Mom told her to stop trying to guilt trip us into coming home.

In the main chat:

MS: So, we’re doing the gift card, just paypal me X amount of money.

Me: Okay.

CS: Got it.

WS: Fine.

SCS: I don’t like this present, I’m getting Mom something different.

~END SCENE~

#all of my family is Exhausting #even the chiller members are Exhausting in their own way #I love them but after living by myself I just look back at my younger self and a) realize why I was always so tired #and b) wonder why I wasn't 1000x more tired #this conversation lasted days #if any of my sisters somehow stumble on this and read this hi I love you I'm sorry but Iam Very Very Tired #personal stuff

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infernaleikon · 6 years

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say hey if you’re gay

Based on this (x)

* * * * * * * * * * *

Derek wakes with a wicked pounding in his head. His mouth feels parched, the taste on his tongue stale, his throat kind of itchy. He doesn’t remember getting home or into bed, but there’s a glass of water on his nightstand. Carefully, he sits up, groaning at the feeling of sickness pulling at his stomach. He sits for a moment, blinking against the spot dancing in his vision, before he reaches for the glass. As soon as the liquid hits his tongue, he opens his mouth letting it drain back into the glass.

It’s vodka. He guesses it might be his friends’ payback for doing this to them each time he brought their drunk asses home. Derek’s annoyed, but he can’t help the tiny smirk stealing its way across his lips. He knows it’s a dick move, but the gleeful satisfaction he gets when his phone pings with incoming messages bitching about the prank is well worth it.

He had it coming, so it’s fine.

Derek drags himself out of bed, changes into a clean pair of boxers, and a shirt as he looks for his phone. He finds it in the back pocket of the jeans he had on last night, with a new sticker on the back of the cover, reading, #stanfordgetnaked. He doesn’t know how or when exactly he acquired it, or what it even means, but he kind of likes it. Getting naked is always a good idea, if you ask him.

When he opens the door to his room, the smell of pizza hits his nose. Derek sighs happily. Grease always helps curing his hangovers, plus, it means he doesn’t have to order and wait for at least half an hour to get his hands on food.

It’s quiet in the apartment, and Derek briefly wonders if Laura and Cora are out or just quietly nursing their own hangovers. He gathers it’s the latter, considering the heavenly scent of pizza. One of them had probably gotten up earlier and already ordered for all of them. It happened sometimes. Although Derek would, around witnesses, always swear that he hates going out and partying with his sisters, he actually enjoys it. They are, against all odds, quite fun to be around. He will not be caught admitting it out loud, though.

He’s watching Erica’s Instagram stories from last night as he steps into the open kitchen, letting his nose guide him towards the food. The last story is a picture of him, with the imprint of Erica’s trademark red lipstick high on his cheek and a ridiculous amount of glitter in his hair. He can’t even remember what happened there.

Absently, he grabs a slice of pizza from one of the boxes, thinking about grabbing a coffee as well. Derek holds on to the pizza slice with his mouth as he turns around to power up the machine, and glances up.

There are five pairs of eyes trained on him, all with different levels of confusion and amusement in them. He freezes mid-movement, staring back at them. Cora’s sitting among them, the most shit-eating grin stretched over her face as she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Hey,” somebody says, and Derek’s eyes flick toward the source. The slice of pizza almost drops out of his mouth, before he remembers it’s there and puts it down.

It’s Stiles. Of course it’s him, of course he’s here. He smirks at Derek, and it does things to him. He’s too hungover for this.

“What—” His voice comes out croaky.

Stiles’ smirk widens a bit, and Cora looks like she might just die from trying—and failing—to contain gleeful laughter.

“Study group,” she tells him. “Remember? I told you, like, five times.”

“Right,” Derek mutters, scrubs a hand over his face. Glitter flitters out of his beard, and his hand comes away covered in it as well. He barely manages to hold in a groan.

He decides against coffee, grabs his slice, croaks out a hoarse “Sorry” before he trods back to his room with as much bravado as he can muster.

It’s only when he crosses the big mirror they have hanging on the wall in the hallway that he realizes his entire head is covered in glitter. Erica’s lipstick is still on his cheek, he’s wearing Batman boxers, and the shirt that says, say hey if you’re gay on the front.

He doesn’t leave the room for the remainder of the day and manages to push this particular moment out of his mind until both Laura and Cora practically fall through his door, laughing like hyenas at his mortification.

Because, of course, Cora’s told Laura all about it.

* * *

Derek is way too tired to be out right now; the exhaustion and desperation of finishing his paper on time still cling to him. Damn procrastination. He’s pretty sure he is in extremely desperate need of a shower and a good night’s (most likely night’s and day’s) sleep, and he’s most definitely unfit to be seen in public. At least that’s what Laura said to him when she dragged him out to go grocery shopping anyway.

Derek’s on auto-pilot pushing the cart through the aisles while his sisters flit through the store collecting the shit they need. He can’t muster the cognitive effort to pay any attention to anything.

“You look like you’ve been swallowed by that one Greek sea monster, you know, the hellmouth thing, and managed to fight your way back out of it but lost several years doing it.”

Derek would’ve ignored the comment—possibly even missed it—if it hadn’t been a familiar voice saying it. He turns to spot Stiles stepping up next to him, balancing five packages of pop tarts and lots of plain yogurt. Derek has half a mind telling him that he’s literally a sight for sore eyes but his sisters have a habit of eavesdropping just to tease him later.

“Hellmouth thing”, Derek repeats dumbly. Of course his brain gets stuck on this. “You mean Charybdis.”

Stiles purses his lips and grins at him. Derek can feel heat rising into his cheeks. He can practically hear Laura calling him a nerd.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” he asks.

Stiles blinks at him, grin turning into a sheepish smile. He scuffs his foot against the floor. “Yeah. Thought I’d tone down the nerd to, you know, not be such a nerd.” He shrugs.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd,” Derek finds himself saying, oddly charmed and half indignant.

“It’s not as long as you talk to people who get your references,” Stiles says, his grin returning. “I should’ve known with you, though, what with the Batman underwear.”

Derek’s mind goes blank for a second and he casts a hasty glance down himself to make sure he didn’t forget to put on pants in his state of mind. He looks back up when he hears Stiles laughing. Stiles almost drops his stuff he laughs so hard, and Derek snorts watching him struggle to balance it.

“I was actually talking about the other day,” Stiles clarifies, and Derek thinks he’s seeing a touch of red creeping into Stiles’ cheeks.

And yeah. Of course Derek’s worst nightmare would come to haunt him again. His horror seems to show on his face, because Stiles says, “Hey, I’m not judging. I have the exact same pair.”

“Really?” Derek’s brain whites out for a second trying to compute the image of Stiles in a pair of Batman boxers. “I’d love to see them.”

It’s out faster than he can even process it, his filter apparently completely disabled, and Stiles looks at him with a stunned expression on his face.

“I mean, no, I know what they look like, obviously. If it’s the same pair. What I meant is—is I’d love to see you in them—”

He might as well just pretend to faint to get out of this situation. He entirely blames Laura for this, because he clearly is in no state of mind to be communicating with any form of living being, least of all Stiles, who seemingly has the ability to momentarily disarm Derek’s filter by just being there.

The thing is, Derek has game. He does, he knows this. Being tired doesn’t affect it. He dazzles people when he emerges out of his room looking like he’s been lost in the woods for ten days (Erica’s words), yet, when Stiles is around, Derek’s filter goes offline and his language center takes over. It results in No Game. None whatsoever.

As it is, Stiles watches him with a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and incredible fondness on his face, biting his bottom lip. There’s a moment of—on Derek’s side—mortified silence before Stiles frees up a hand from the stuff he’s carrying. Derek watches enthralled and entirely speechless as Stiles reaches down and pulls the waistband of his boxers out from under his sweatpants, revealing the Batman logo.

Derek only manages to tear his eyes away when Stiles swears under his breath as his stack begins to sway dangerously in his grasp. The quiet smack of the waistband snapping back into place against Stiles’ skin as he lets go of it to stabilize his pile of groceries, creates a tantalizing echo in Derek’s head.

Before Derek can react in any way, Stiles leans forward. “By the way,” he says quietly into the narrow space between them. “Hey.”

Derek blinks at him, dazed and confused. He hears one of his sisters calling for him. “I gotta go,” is all he manages out, and wheels the cart into the direction the voice came from, unable to process what just happened.

He’s still trying to wrap his head around what happened at the store later that night when Laura tells him to put his shirt in the laundry.

“Seriously, Derek, have you seen it? It looks like a toddler’s shirt after lunch.”

He looks down his front, peels the shirt away from his chest (it does look like it could use a washing cycle) and picks at the stain on the Y from hey. His mind wanders back to Stiles, to him showing Derek his boxers.

Huh. Maybe Derek does have game when he’s around Stiles after all.

* * *

Derek checks his watch again, making sure it didn’t stop or he somehow got the time wrong. He said he’d be there in fifteen minutes, and now he’s been waiting for his sisters for ten already. They went out partying at someone’s house while Derek declined to go. He spent the entire day at home in his underwear, binge watching Netflix and eating junk food. Going out also would’ve meant to take a shower beforehand and he found that was too much effort.

As it is, he agreed to pick up his sisters who are nowhere to be seen despite the fact that Laura had received and read his message that he’d be there. He’s leaning against the side of the car, waiting outside the house. He considered going in and looking for them, but again: effort. Derek figures he’ll wait another fifteen minutes before he returns home, with or without his sisters.

He’s checking his phone for messages from either Laura or Cora when he hears a familiar voice hollering his name. Derek looks up to see Stiles tripping his way across the front lawn of the house in his direction, closely followed by Scott, who looks half amused and half worried. Stiles comes to stand in front of Derek, swaying considerably.

“Hey, Derek. Hey, hey, Derek, hey,” he says, cracks a huge grin. There’s confetti stuck in his hair, he has something on his cheek that looks like a temporary tattoo of a unicorn, and there’s winged eyeliner on one his right lid. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, Derek.”

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek answers with a smile of his own, and steadies Stiles, when he leans in and loses balance, as if the ground he’s standing on became unsteady. Stiles’s grin grows a little wider, and Derek feels incredibly warm despite the crisp air outside.

He casts a look over Stiles’ shoulder at Scott whose worried expression has disappeared. Stiles follows Derek’s gaze but whips around so fast he trips. Scott’s on him faster than Derek can even react, obviously trained in catching Stiles’ falls. Stiles smiles dopily up at his best friend, petting his biceps as Scott heaves him back up on his feet.

“Sorry,” Scott says. He doesn’t sound annoyed or exasperated, but incredibly fond. “He’s had a lot to drink.”

Derek smirks. “I didn’t notice.”

Scott grins at him while Stiles is continuously petting his arm, apparently entirely enraptured by it.

“You here to pick up your sisters?” Scott asks.

“Yeah,” Derek says, casting a quick glance at the watch on his phone. “They should know I’m here but they haven’t come out yet. You the designated driver for your group today?”

Stiles’ attention drifts from Scott’s biceps to his face and he starts gently poking at his cheek.

“I am,” Scott confirms, still holding on to Stiles who now looks as if he’s leaning his entire weight against his best friend. “We’re about to leave. I actually wanted to buckle Stiles in first before I got the others but then he saw you.”

“Sorry.”

Scott shrugs with a smile, adjusting his grip on Stiles. “Nah, it’s cool, man. Would you mind keeping an eye on him, though? I’ll go in and get the others, and your sisters.”

“Sure,” Derek says. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a problem,” Scott answers, grabbing Stiles by the sides and pushing him gently upright and into Derek’s direction. “I have to warn you, though, he’s really, really touchy-feely when he’s drunk.”

Stiles sighs deeply as he leans into Derek, his eyes fixed on Scott, though. “S’otty, you sooooo pretty,” he says dreamily and forms a heart with his hands. Derek bites his lip to keep from laughing.

“Case in point,” Scott says with a laugh. “Thanks, buddy. You’re very pretty, too.”

“Awwwwww.” Stiles sounds absolutely enamoured, looking like he’s out of his mind with delight. He reaches out and plants a smacking kiss on Scott’s cheek.

“Okay, you stay with Derek. I’ll be right back,” Scott says to Stiles. “Alright?”

Stiles’ eyes light up suddenly as he turns around to look at Derek. “Derek? Oooh, yes, I’ll stay with Derek.”

Scott gives them a thumbs up and then jogs across the lawn back to the house. Stiles slumps against him, and Derek wraps an arm around his waist to hold him steady. Derek finds he is unsurprised by how unbothered he is to have Stiles being all up in his space like that when usually, Derek’s not a fan of people occupying his personal bubble so much. Yet Stiles is a comfortable weight against his front, his arms snaking around Derek’s back.

Stiles snaps his head up suddenly, as if he’d fallen asleep for a couple of seconds and woke up with a start. He stares at Derek intently.

“What colour are your eyes?” he asks, grabbing Derek’s face with both his hands and draws closer until their noses are almost touching. Derek feels his heart speeding up, the heat of Stiles’ fingers seeping into his skin. He’s close enough to count Stiles’ eyelashes. The proximity makes his head spin with something he can’t quite pinpoint.

“Hazel,” he finally manages to answer. The intensity of Stiles’ stare has left his mouth dry.

Stiles shakes his head, squints a little. “No,” he says resolutely. “‘s not hazel. ‘s beautiful.”

“I don’t think beautiful is a colour, Stiles,” Derek points out.

Stiles seems confused for a moment. He frowns. “Pretty?”

“Not a colour, either.”

The frown deepens. And then suddenly he smiles bright. It’s as if the sun cracks through dark storm clouds, and Derek has to swallow, and blink a couple of times.

“Rainbow,” Stiles says, nodding, and boops Derek’s nose.

Derek finds himself smiling fondly. He can’t bring himself to point out that rainbow, technically, isn’t a colour either. Stiles seems to happy with his answer, and besides, a rainbow seems to have enough colours to encompass his needs. He starts petting Derek’s beard, eyes focusing on his hands as he does so.

“Your beard is so soft,” Stiles observes, voice sounding like he’s found something he’s never seen before. “Mmmmmhhh.”

Derek’s pretty sure he’s never been as charmed by a drunken person as he is now. But that might be because it’s Stiles, and he’s always charmed by Stiles. Apparently, even when he’s drunk off his ass and thinks pretty is a valid eye colour.

Derek spots his sisters coming towards them while Stiles continues to pet his beard. He sees their shit-eating smirks, and doesn’t even care because Stiles is still leaning against him, huffing little breaths against his face, his fingers leaving tingling sensations on his skin.

“Stiles ‘n’ Derek sittin’ ‘n a tree,” Laura crows, words slurring.

“Get in the car,” he tells them. They don’t even argue, just slide into the backseat and continue to caw once inside. It’s gonna be one hell of a ride home. Derek just hopes they’re drunk enough to have a blackout tomorrow, so he doesn’t have to go through this twice.

Scott comes over with Allison and Lydia in two. Both of them are giggling, eyes bright, and they’re holding on to each other. They’re in no better shape than Laura and Cora.

“Stiles,” Scott says gently, tapping Stiles on the shoulder. “Buddy.”

Stiles tears his eyes away from Derek’s face and looks over.

“We gotta go.”

“‘s so soft,” Stiles says with an irritated look on his face, turns back to Derek, and sighs contentedly.

Scott throws Derek an amused look. Allison coos, and slaps a hand over her mouth while Lydia’s biting her lip.

Derek carefully peels Stiles’ hands from his face, unwilling, but he also doesn’t want to make Scott and the other wait for too long. Stiles doesn’t seem to happy about not touching Derek anymore, but he doesn’t protest, just lets Derek guide his hands down.

He straightens, blinks a couple of times, and then he leans back into Derek. “Derek’s the prettiest, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Derek guesses he tried for a whisper but missed that by a mile. He raises his brows. “I’m the prettiest?” he asks, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, off his face; the warm, bubbly feeling away. He’s tingling all over, it’s ridiculous.

Stiles leans away with a confused look on his face. His eyes sweep over Derek. “Oh. Sorry.”

He turns away, wraps an arm around Scott’s shoulder, and says, “Derek’s the prettiest,” and Scott purses his lips to hide a grin. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

Scott pats Stiles’ hand, sends an amused grin Derek’s way, and promises, “I won’t, buddy. Let’s go.”

Stiles’s head lols back and he looks over at Derek, another bright smile appearing on his face. “Hey, Derek. Hey. Hey. Derek, hey.”

“Good night,” Derek says. He can’t stop the fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, helpless at the sight of Stiles’ beaming face. “Get home safe.”

* * *

Derek’s almost a little embarrassed that he spots Stiles the second he steps foot into the coffee shop. He’s sitting to the left, at one of the tables along the window front, sprawled in one of the cozy armchairs. His hair is a mess, but then again, that’s not new. Derek’s still not sure if that particular style is intentional or accidental. Either way, it makes Derek want to card his fingers through it, maybe pull a little… Derek stops that train of thought before it takes him somewhere he shouldn’t be in public.

Derek gets up to the counter to order and decides to get two drinks. Stiles looks like he’s waiting for someone; Derek might as well keep him company while he does.

Stiles’ gaze flicks up from his phone as soon as Derek places the cup in front of him on the table. A smile spreads across his face, warm and blinding, the early afternoon sun reflecting in his eyes; making them look luminous.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles says, squinting a little against the light. Derek swallows at the way his heart trips.

“Hi,” he says. His hands are suddenly sweating. “Recover well from last weekend?”

Stiles cheeks flush, and he bites his lip dropping his phone into his lap. He clears his throat, sitting up straight, and Derek can’t help the grin from showing. Apparently, Stiles remembers what happened, or he had been told by Scott. Either way, Derek revels in the pretty blush on Stiles’ face, even though it’s probably embarrassment.

“You waiting for someone?” Derek asks before Stiles can answer.

“Actually…”

Someone clears their throat next to Derek at the same time as Stiles starts speaking. Another cup of coffee gets placed in front of Stiles, and Derek looks at the man standing next to him, putting a second cup down.

“My dad,” Stiles finishes, gaze flicking between him and his father. “Derek, that’s my dad. Dad, Derek.”

Derek’s slide over to Stiles, and if his hands have been sweating before it’s nothing compared to now, and there’s a lump in his throat he can’t explain why it’s there. Stiles’ father is a sheriff, Derek remembers him talking about it when he explained why he’d gone into criminology.

As it is, the Sheriff is holding out his hand to Derek, and Derek takes it out of ingrained polite reflex, but he winces when he realizes how sweaty his hands are. Great, he thinks, that is exactly the first impression he’d wanna give.

“Sheriff,” Derek manages to out past the lump in his throat.

Stiles’ dad barks out a laugh sitting down opposite Stiles. “Please,” he says. “I’m here for personal reasons and not in official capacities. Mr. Stilinski is fine.”

Stiles snorts, holding one of the cups between both hands and staring at his father over the rim. “Since when are you ‘Mr. Stilinski’ to any of my friends?”

Derek watches them exchange looks. Stiles rolls his eyes in response to the glance his father sends his way, but doesn’t comment any further. However, there’s another blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Sit, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski says, gesturing to the free armchair.

“Actually, Dad,” Stiles begins as he sits up straight, a little coffee sloshing over the rim of the cup. “I think Derek’s busy.”

Mr. Stilinski raises a brow, looks from Stiles to Derek with an expectant expression on his face. “Are you, Derek?”

Except it doesn’t sound like much of a question. Derek can feel his flight response wanting to kick in, but something in Mr. Stilinski’s gaze fixes him firmly in place. Maybe he’s just too scared to run.

“I thought so,” Mr. Stilinski says when Derek doesn’t respond. He takes a sip from his cup, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sit,” he adds, setting his cup down.

Derek sits down so fast, it’s almost as if his legs gave out under him. He feels hot all over, and this time it’s not because Stiles is looking at him; it’s not the good kind of hot. It’s the terrified kind of hot, and Mr. Stilinski has this look on his face like he knows exactly how Derek’s feeling.

“So, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski starts. There’s a knock from beneath the table, disturbing the cups a little, and Stiles curses. The smirk on Stiles’ father’s face looks way too smug. “Your name’s occasionally come up,” he continues conversationally. Derek casts a glance at Stiles who’s incredibly red in the face, and is sliding deeper down the armchair. Meanwhile, Derek’s brain gets hung up on the fact that Stiles talks to his father about him.

“What is it that you do, again?”

Derek tries to clear his throat. “I’m in law school, sir.”

Mr. Stilinski nods, and Derek imagines he sees something like approval flashing over his face. “Ambitious.”

“I’d say it’s spite,” Derek says before he can process what he’s doing. Mr. Stilinski raises his brows in question. Derek sighs internally. He continues to make a stellar first impression. Stiles will probably never talk to him again. If only because his dad thinks he’s a total idiot and doesn’t want it to rub off on his son. “My older sister is also in law school here, and she’s been goading me since we were little. At this point it’s just us trying to outdo each other.”

Derek feels incredibly childish admitting this to Stiles’ father, his ears are burning, as is his face, and he tries to hide it by burying his face in his cup.

Mr. Stilinski laughs, though, kindly. Derek looks up in surprises, chances a quick glance at Stiles who’s hiding a fond smile behind his cup.

“Who’s on top of things right now?” Mr. Stilinski asks, uncontained amusement hiding in the crinkles of his eyes.

“Well,” Derek starts, adjusts his position on the armchair. “I feel like Laura’s always on top of things and at least one step ahead of me, but I would never say that to her face.”

Mr. Stilinski chuckles. “Stiles’ mother was very competitive, too,” he says, his eyes settling on Stiles, and there’s so much love and pride in them that Derek has to look away and leave this moment to them.

“So, Derek,” Mr. Stilinski starts again. “You any good in the kitchen?”

“Dad,” Stiles says which his father completely ignores. Derek glances between them. “You don’t have to answer that, Derek.”

“Why not?” Mr. Stilinski asks, not taking his eyes off Derek. “It’s just a question.”

Derek’s getting interrogated, he realizes, and suddenly he feels like everything he says is, somehow, the wrong thing to say.

“Um, I’m not much of a cook,” he says carefully. “But I bake.”

Mr. Stilinski claps his hands like he’s just won something. “Perfect.”

This shouldn’t feel like Derek’s achieved some sort of victory, but it does, and Derek is ridiculously relieved. Stiles rolls his eyes hard, takes a sip from his cup and mumbles something Derek doesn’t catch.

Two hands clamp down on his shoulders from behind. “Here you are,” Laura says. Derek takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. This can’t be good. “I was wondering what happened to you.”

There’s so much glee in her voice, Derek already knows she’s not going to let him live this down.

“Hi, I’m Laura,” she says, sticking a hand out to Stiles’ father. “Derek’s sister.”

Mr. Stilinski takes her hand, smirking. “Noah,” he answers. “Stiles’ father.”

Stiles groans. Out of the corner of his eyes, Derek can see that he’s leaning back in his armchair and covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” Laura says, delight colouring her voice. “You’re a sheriff, right? Stiles mentioned it a couple of times. Said that’s why he’s studying criminology.”

Derek sees Mr. Stilinski raise his brows and look at Stiles. There’s some sort of silent communication happening between them that Derek can’t read, but Stiles looks as if he’s daring his father to say something.

“You know Stiles, too?” he asks curiously.

Laura waves it off. “He asked me if I could help him with one of his classes that I’d taken before, too. But then something came up on short notice, and I sent Derek instead.” She ruffles his hair. “He’s a much better teacher than I am, anyway.”

As much shit as Laura gives him, she’s never shy of complimenting him and praising him in front of others, too. He relaxes a bit, leans into her side, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders. Mr. Stilinski is looking at him intently, and Derek practically wills himself not to flush under his scrutiny.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” Laura says and smacks her forehead. “I’ve actually just wanted to see where my baby bro disappeared to. He was supposed to get coffee for us.”

No will power in the world would’ve saved Derek from this one. He’s pretty sure his flush could power the coffee shop alone. Stiles has the same scrutinizing look on his face as his father, and Derek can very clearly see the family resemblance. That facial expression in particular is uncanny.

“Derek always gets sidetracked by Stiles,” Laura adds with mirth in her voice. It’s not unkind, though, she’s not trying to make fun of or humiliate him. Mr. Stilinski is grinning fondly, and Stiles’ blush, Derek thinks as he looks at him, matches his own.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Mr. Stilinski says. “You’re welcome to stay.”

Somehow, that sounds dangerous.

“Dad, I’m sure Laura and Derek had better plans for today than to sit here with us and listen to your boring stories,” Stiles says suddenly. “Besides, I thought you were here to spend time with me?” It sounds almost petulant.

Laura laughs. “We’re gonna leave you to it. It was very nice meeting you, Noah.”

Stiles’ dad gets up as Laura stands. “Likewise,” he says, shaking her hand again. “You, too, Derek,” he says, again looking at Derek with a stripping sort of scrutiny that has Derek wanting to run for the hills.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Derek croaks out, shaking his hand. It’s sweaty again. Or possibly still.

As they’re leaving the shop, Laura asks, “On a scale from one to Death Would Be Merciful, how embarrassed are you that you met your crush’s dad while wearing your say hey if you’re gay shirt?”

Derek exhales closing his eyes. He’d rather not think about that. Laura lets out a quiet, sympathetic laugh and pats his shoulder.

* * *

Someone bumps into Derek while he’s standing in the cafeteria, contemplating which of the unhealthy options he’s gonna go with today. He’s about to give the person a piece of his mind when he realizes it’s Stiles. A very hassled looking Stiles whose entire face transforms into pure happiness as he looks at Derek.

“Hey.”

Derek smiles, unable to stop himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says. He’s going for pizza and whips around to eye the deserts across the room. “Your magnetic pull was too strong to resist,” he adds turning around, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek feels his face heat. He ducks his head, grabs the first meal he can get his hands on and continues down. Stiles follows him, tongue sticking out between his teeth. He looks way too fond, and Derek’s hands are growing sweaty again. He should have that checked out, it can’t be normal.

“Wait for me,” Stiles instructs and dashes away to the desert aisle. Derek is just sort of to dumbstruck to do anything but as Stiles said. He watches Stiles flit around, collecting his food—which is quite a lot—and just waits. There’s apparently a smile on his which Derek only realizes because there’s a guy in his line of sight that smiles back at him, probably thinking Derek’s paying him any attention. Derek scowls at him, and the guy’s face falls.

Stiles comes bounding back to him. “I’m good to go,” he informs Derek and wiggles his tray for good measure.

“How are you not a diabetic?” Derek wonders as their looking for place, eyeballing all the processed sugar on Stiles’ tray.

“Scott continues to drag me to lacrosse practice,” Stiles simpers, shrugging, and slides onto a chair. “Not that I need it. I got great metabolism.”

Derek eyes him doubtfully. He shakes his head, huffing out a laugh. “So, how’d the day with your dad go after you chased Laura and me off?”

Stiles is already chewing a bite from some candy bar, as he narrows his eyes at Derek, pausing mid-chew. “What do you mean, ‘chased off’? Trust me, I was doing you a favour. He would’ve just kept on going interrogating you.”

Derek frowns, and Stiles nods. “Uh huh. Trust me. He would’ve made you give up your deepest, darkest secrets. I’ve seen it happen.”

Derek scoffs. “And which deep, dark secret did you give up?”

“Please,” Stiles says with a raised brow. “I’m immune. I build up immunity over the years, carefully cultivated it, and now it just bounces right off.”

“What did he ask you?”

“Whether I’m sleeping with both you and Laura.”

Derek chokes on his fry. “What’d you say?” he manages out between heaving coughs.

Stiles smirks. “I said I aim high,” he replies, and the wink he sends Derek’s way can only be described as indecent.

Derek’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of death.

Stiles lets out a delighted laugh. “Chill, dude. I’m obviously kidding.” He rolls his eyes, takes a bite from his pizza.

“By the way,” Stiles says a minute later, strictly staring at the label of another candy bar. “We never settled what colour your eyes are.”

Derek raises his brows. Stiles remembers. “I recall you decided on ‘rainbow’.”

Stiles flushes. It’s delicious.

“Rainbow’s not a colour,” he points out.

“You seemed pretty convinced. I didn’t wanna argue.”

Stiles is silent for a beat. “Well, I mean, technically I’m not wrong.”

Derek can’t help the snort.

“What? Somewhere in there I’m pretty sure is also the colour of your eyes,” Stiles huffs, staring at Derek with narrowed eyes. “Which are ridiculous, by the way, to state for the record. Nobody has eyes like that.”

“Obviously, I do.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, again, but it’s fond, almost bashful. Which is a paradox in itself. “Well, pretty much all of you is ridiculous, so.”

“We can’t all be so perfectly put together like you are,” Derek says around a bite, and smirks when Stiles throws him a look.

“Ha ha.”

Derek’s smirk grows a little. “You have ridiculous eyes, too.”

Stiles stills and stares at him for a moment. The colour is back in his cheeks, he opens his mouth and closes it, repeats the process a couple of times, until he finally huffs. “They’re brown.”

Derek shrugs. “Mine are hazel.”

“They’re magical,” Stiles mutters, biting heartily into his bar.

“What?”

Derek looks at him, at his big Bambi eyes and the innocent expression on his face, and wonders, not for the first time, if his mind is making stuff up. Stiles blinks and Derek shifts, casting his eyes down. He thinks about asking him out, or about just ravishing him on the spot—Derek’s not that picky in that regard—but he never does. He knows he wouldn’t handle it well if Stiles said no. Stiles’s flirty with everyone, he has this way of smirking and winking and just generally wrapping people around his little finger with such ease that has Derek’s head spinning.

He flirts with Derek. Derek’s not that obtuse not to realize that but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. So, Derek just keeps not pushing, keeps not asking, keeps not ravishing. He’ll live. He gets to be around Stiles. It’s fine.

* * *

Derek wakes with a start, jerks upright and immediately regrets it. The world is spinning fast, his stomach lurches dangerously, and there’s a stale taste on his tongue that tells him he’s had too much tequila last night. He groans as he flops back down and takes a couple of deep breaths to get his stomach under control. It takes a moment for him to not feel like he’s gonna projectile vomit all over the bed, and by the time his gut calms, he realizes he’s not in his bed.

He sits back up, stomach rioting again, and looks around. It’s a tiny, crammed bedroom he doesn’t recognize. There are piles of books on the desk, loose sheets upon loose sheets haphazardly spread over a laptop that’s quietly whirring; clothes strewn around, empty cans of energy drinks, and there’s a sad plant that looks like it’s a hairwidth away from death on the window sill.

It smells—

Derek squeezes his eyes shut und presses the balls of his hands into his eye sockets. He prays to every deity he can think of that he’s not where he thinks he is.

Except, if there’s some sort of higher power guiding his way, it’s laughing in his face and probably enjoying his misery way too much.

Derek slowly gets out of bed. He can hear faint cluttering outside the door. When he looks down at himself, he’s wearing his boxers and a shirt. His pants, he discovers, are the only thing that are neatly folded on the desk chair. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand—it really is water, he tries—and Derek’s heart is doing its damndest to beat out of his chest.

He puts on his pants before he pads outside.

Stiles puttering around the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and a ratty shirt that is so worn out it’s almost see-through. He’s humming to some song he’s listening to over his earplugs, flipping a pancake. It’s so domestic, and Derek’s so close to popping a boner over it, it’s almost kind of embarrassing.

He clears his throat, and Stiles looks over his shoulder. As soon as he spots Derek, a blinding smile stretches across his face. He pulls the plugs out of his ears, waving Derek closer.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Sit. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Derek sits on one of the chairs Stiles points to, too dumbstruck to do anything else. He watches Stiles prepare the pancakes and idly wonders how the hell he got here.

He can’t remember. Laura, Cora and Erica convinced him to go out last night, some frat party; one of those that’s a little too loud, a little too crowded, a little too wild, and a little too loose. Something must’ve happened for him to wake up in Stiles’ bed, and god, Derek hopes they didn’t have sex. Because if they had, he doesn’t know anymore, and he doesn’t want to live in a world in which he did have sex with Stiles but can’t remember it. That, and of course the fact that it most likely would’ve meant that Stiles took advantage of him, which Derek can’t really believe but—

“Dude,” Stiles says, looking at him with huge eyes.

Derek blinks. He said all that out loud. Someone mercy kill him. Now. Derek squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Derek, hey,” Stiles tries. “Relax. Nothing happened. You were pretty out of it.”

“No kidding,” Derek replies. He takes a deep breath and looks up at Stiles, who is now smirking at him. It’s not a good sign.

“You were pretending to be an octopus. I mean, literally. You wrapped yourself around me and you wouldn’t let go, and basically, that’s how you ended up here. I swear, man, dragging you here was an exercise all on its own.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough he can teleport himself to a lonely island, never to be seen again.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says miserably. Of all the ways he pictured he would hold on to Stiles, this wasn’t it. And—he just rambled about having sex with him. Derek drops his head into his hands, feeling like he’d shot right past rock bottom and into a pitch black bottomless pit that plays the best-of compilation of the worst moments in his life, on repeat, forever.

Stiles places a plate in front of him, by the sound of it, and then there’s a hand in Derek’s hair, fingers slowly dragging over his scalp.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” Stiles says, his tone gentle and fond. Derek looks back up at him to find Stiles smiling warmly at him, with a sort of admiration that has Derek’s heart beating faster.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Derek says. He stares up at Stiles with wide eyes. Part of him can’t quite believe Stiles’ fingers are still in his hair, softly carding through it.

“You didn’t,” Stiles answers. He quirks an eyebrow, looking quizzical. “Why would you think that?”

“Because we’re—I mean, we don’t—and you…”

“Are you having a stroke?” Stiles asks. He momentarily pauses his hand, frowning down at Derek. “Smile. I need to see.”

Derek can’t help the eye roll. “Don’t be ridiculous. I talked about having sex with you when—look, I didn’t mean to say that I’m, like, fantasizing or anything. It’s not—I’m not—we’re not—”

“Are you going through declinations now?” Stiles is smirking again.

Derek scowls at him, feels heat rising into his cheeks. This is so not how this is supposed to go. This is not how he pictured waking up having Stiles around.

“Derek,” Stiles says. He sighs, turns off the stove, and proceeds to pull the other chair closer, so he can sit next to Derek. “You never made me feel uncomfortable, okay? Never. And once we’ve eaten and you’ve sobered up, we can have all the sex. I mean it. All of it.”

Derek stares at him, dumbfounded. His brain is tried to process what’s happening until Stiles said they could have sex. Now, it’s like his entire world came to a screeching halt, and he feels a little like someone is shaking a Magic 8 Ball, except it’s his head, and nothing makes sense.

Stiles grabs his hand, twining their fingers together, and Derek looks down. He watches with rapt attention how Stiles’ thumb sweeps over the skin of his knuckles.

When Derek doesn’t say anything, Stiles clears his throat. Derek glances up, spots the worried expression on his beautiful face.

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out there,” Stiles says, huffing out a nervous little laugh. “Maybe I read this wrong. See, I thought I was imagining you being into me until last night.”

“What.”

Stiles is biting his lip, and lets go of Derek’s hand, self-conscious now. Derek grabs it, though, before he can pull back entirely, squeezing gently.

“Well, I mean, you know. I flirted, and I’m pretty sure you flirted back, but nothing ever came of it, so I thought you’re just—” Stiles shrugs, scuffing his foot against the floor. “And then last night, you were all over me. You know, when I dragged you home, you were serenading me all the way over here. I figured, drunks and children tell the truth, so… I mean, I understand if it’s not what you want.”

“I serenaded you?” Derek’s voice feels—and sounds—hoarse and squeaky at the same time.

Stiles smirks again, but it’s fond. “Yeah.”

Derek’s silent for a beat. “Wait, you—you were into me?”

“Still am,” Stiles says, ducking his head.

Derek blinks. His head is spinning again, but this time it’s not the alcohol. “You mean—why didn’t you say anything?”

Stiles snorts. “Please. I’ve been hey-ing you since forever. You just never did anything about it. How was I supposed to know?”

“Hey-ing?” Derek scowls at him.

Stiles sighs, exasperated, but still fond. He affectionately flicks Derek’s chest. Derek looks down, stares at the shirt he’s wearing and—oh.

“Oh. But this is just—this doesn’t mean that you’re—”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He lets go of Derek’s hand, grabs his face with both of his, and fixes at him with the softest look in his eyes. “It meant, Derek, please use your dumb rainbow eyes and fucking see that hugeass crush I have on you.”

Derek can’t help the smile from pulling at his mouth. “Noted.”

Stiles kisses him, slowly, sweetly, and it’s such a rush to the head, Derek has to close his eyes for a moment after. He turns his head a little, kisses the inside of Stiles’ hand, unable to stop himself from smiling all the way through.

“Derek?”

“Hm?”

“Hey.”

Derek smiles, heart lurching. “Hey.”

#sterek #sterek fic #ficcups #stileshale #soldieronbarnes #hahahahahaha look it's been like three years or so since i've written something #so this is garbage but i'm still getting back into it ok #sorry and thanks

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