#There's too much information to convey and I feel like it seems unnatural if it's too matter of fact

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 6: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should ask the Innkeeper about the suspicious egg he got from the Well Creature….

-

After finishing his food scraps, he awkwardly creeps back over to the main counter, pulling up a stool and just hoping the Innkeeper will eventually make eye contact with him... She finally looks to the side whilst cleaning a glass, his chance to blurt out whatever he can.

"SO!- uh,, I um... I found something weird, or uh.. I didn't find it actually, I guess, I..... s-someone, or something.. gave it to me, as maybe..? a reward, or.. oh, well i-it doesn't matter why.. but UH, but so, I was just wondering, d-do you think you might know anything about it? about like, uh... stuff? Objects.. perhaps.....?"

She stares with equal parts amusement and concern, crossing her arms and letting out a soft chuckle, "Well, I've seen quite a variety of things while working here, so - Yeah, I could try to help you identify an item, if that's what you're asking."

"G-good. Okay. Well.. It's, uh..... this." He's barely even placed the little wooden egg box up on the counter before she's already slamming the lid shut and reaching over to force it back into his bag. Suddenly serious, her eyes dart around the room, scanning to ensure no-one else happened to notice.

"Don't EVER let anyone see you with that, okay??". Abrupt tone shift making him even more nervous, he just stares blankly, muttering a few gibberish noises whilst nodding at her in confirmation.

"I mean, I'm not absolutely certain," her voice lowers as she speaks, "but to me it looks exactly like a Caiploras egg. Those animals have been nearly extinct for at least a hundred years. Only tiny groups of them still exist here and there, and even those eventually get wiped out as soon as they're discovered. Kings and nobles used to hunt them, especially for the eggs, 'cause of all the theories - unique magical properties, uses in enchanting, shit like that.. I don't really know, I'm not that experienced with magic.... But.."

She pauses for a few seconds to stare him down (this does not soothe his anxiety at all), examining intently, as if to determine whether he's actually trustworthy before continuing..

"...My brother is. He's a mage, and a scholar, and he specializes in stuff like this, all these rare animals and whatnot. He'll hate me just sending a complete stranger over there, but.. I think you should go see him. He'd definitely be able to identify it- hell, he'd probably even pay you for it, if it really is what I think it is. And, he'd know how to take care of it properly, raise it well, not just cut it up for fucking potions or whatever...", she scoffs bitterly.

Grasping at a nearby napkin to fan himself with, he shifts sweatily in his seat, "W-wh... but,.. How would I do that?"

"What do you mean? Do what?"

"F-find, him.. IHhh... I just.. I don't, know the area well.. is all, I uh...."

"I'll give you directions, obviously.. Are you okay? Do you like... need some water? You look-"

"NHnnnou, I'M FINE! I just, haha.. uh... Maybe, am.. not very good at....uh.. this.." He gestures around himself nonspecifically.

With a brief confused glance, she pours a cup of water anyway, then casually plucks a small notebook from her pocket to begin scribbling messily. "Well, look, I'll give you the information, and if you feel up to it, you can go. I really think you should, but, eh... your choice, y'know."

As he fights his shaky hands to maintain control of the water glass, she lays out the paper on the table, pointing at parts of her sketch. "He's over in Fargahel, which should be a few days travel from here. See? The roads kind of go like this, but it's mostly a straight path. Look for the ruins of an abandoned castle. He's holed himself up in there, the underground part, repurposed into some sort of 'sanctuary' for rehabilitating injured birds or whatever the hell he's up to now. He probably won't attack you or anything, but I signed a little note on the back of this so he knows I sent you.. just in case."

Neatly folding up the map, she slides it towards him as she leans closer to intensely meet his eyes. "Just remember, no matter what you do, do NOT let anyone know you have that egg. There are plenty of folks out here still hunting for them. You don't want someone recognizing it and coming after you. Especially with how, uh...", it feels like she might mention he doesn't seem he'd be very good at combat, but she simply lets the sentence trail off, shrugging with a smile and politely patting his hand as he takes the paper.

"Just get some sleep, yeah? Think about it. And talk to me in the morning if you have any more questions."

He slumps over to lean on the counter, resting for a moment after she walks back to the other end of the room, just trying to wrap his head around all the new information.. He only took the egg because it looked pretty! He just wanted it to hatch into a cool chicken or something! Why does it have to actually be some big stinky scary secret rare item?... With a heavy sigh, he resolves to never again trust mysterious creatures that pop out of abandoned wells....

Eventually trudging up to his room for the night, he flops onto the lumpy mattress that seems to just be hay stuffed into dusty old potato sacks. As he rustles around waiting to fall asleep, he considers all of his options... What should he do with the egg?

#paventure posting #polls #choose your own adventure #SORRY I KNOW THE TEXT OF THIS ONE IS LONG I just could not make it short #There's too much information to convey and I feel like it seems unnatural if it's too matter of fact #like if she was just like 'yeah its this. go here. do this. okay thanks' #it would feel too robotic #there has to be SOME meandering and pointless sentences that just lead into other sentences and etc. lol #BUT most of them will not be this long. I'm still majorly trying to keep a 2-3 paragraph limit #the only exceptions will probably be occasions where he actually has convesartions with people because it'd #just sound really rushed and weird to try to fit a whole full detailed conversation into like 2 paragraphs worth of text #unless they're barley saying anything to each other. but etc. etc. you know what I mean #A majority of it will be short interactions in the woods a little choices and etc. Just sometimes when there's like #some explaining a full quest or whatever obviously that needs more context #Also this one is really late because I wanted to give myself a break and not draw every single day #so I already did the writing part so I'd have it ready today but then waited to do the sketch until this mosrning #I still have that chest injury thing that flares up if I use my shoulders and arms too much. which for some reason even if #I'm only doing a quick 30 minute sketch and like an hour or less of typing - it still starts to be achey #I have to have days where I just take a break from the computer lol #ANYWAY... day 6! What to do with the mysterious egg? :0 #sorry to the one person who sent an anon ask talking about how they hope he gets to talk to the musician lol #That option did not win. But - depending on how voting of things goes - we could still come across some of #the people who were in the Inn during later parts of the journey. I had kind of a vague idea of like who the hooded #figure is. the musician. the person that would have been in a stables if you tried to steal a horse. etc. #Might still never come across them though but- they do exist in the world so. always a possiblility #wowe so many typos in these tags whoops.. im not going back and retyping them either

[piduai]

Thank you so much for translating all of the Golden Kamuy related content!! As a fellow tsurumigirl myself I'm eternally grateful that you took a lot of your own free time to translate so much content about a series that doesn't even have much traction in the west to begin with and made it widely available on your blog. Also, even though I don't know japanese, it really seems like you did an awesome job at capturing the witty language and humour (especially Satoru Noda's interviews) of the og text. I know it takes a lot of time and effort to do those types of translations so, again, thank you so much for your work! Golden Kamuy is a truly special piece of fiction and I'm glad I got to learn more about it through your translations. Gaining more insight to it all was super nice and those drama CD's were pretty funny too. For what it's worth I trully appreciate your service, it is factually more selfless then any US marine. Even if you don't feel like translating more in the future I loved reading the amount you've done this far. Hopefully we'll get more story involved GK content (besides merch) in the future, a side story involving pre-gold hunt 7th Division (more Ogata/Usami dynamic we didn't get nearly enough of that glorious mess) or a tiny sequel of Shiraishi visiting Sugimoto and Asirpa after a timeskip would definitely be too much to hope for but a girl has her dreams... Much love to you and your cat!!

no problemo 💞 gk having no reach outside jp is specifically what made me translate for it in the first place, or rather seeing a piece of information translated woefully wrong by someone else and being like um i have to fix this. i rarely get passionately invested in anything myself, but when i do i just feel the need to share my love with others, you know? and contributing to making the extra stuff accessible is my way of doing it, so :) i'm glad you think i managed to convey noda's tone!! both english and japanese are foreign languages for me so it's inevitable that some stuff is going to come out stiff and awkward and unnatural, but i genuinely did my best to make all of my texts easy to read! so i'm glad it's noticeable, thank you so much <3

i think that if noda ever releases other material regarding gk i'll give in and translate it like i did all previous times. i see stupid annoying disrespectful people posting my shit on twitter and get mad and go like i'll never do anything for you ingrates again. but it boils over. at the end of the day my love for the series outweighs whatever gripes i have towards its dumbass insufferable poor man's f*ndom, and there's always going to be waaay more people that just read silently than the loud idiots on twitter dot com. so it's all good. i do really love gk a lot

as for the last part idk, in this fast-going vapid profit-obsessed era of endless prequels/sequels/spin-offs/reboots etc i think there's an elegant beauty in a timely, neat ending. the story told what it had to say and wrapped up oldschool style which i think is good... stuff that drags on forever in pursuit of profit has no soul. though of course if noda released any of that i'd read it it just wouldn't be the same. so i'm content 🫶

#thank you for the message it was very sweet :) #anon

[jafndaegur]

Things Said and Unsaid

Jumin Han x MC

Mystic Messenger

a/n: now that the zine is long past, here is my story from the Garden of Eden Zine:) Enjoy!

Jumin twisted the flower stem between his fingers as he reclined further against the chair. Waxy pink petals mocked him in a way that he did not appreciate and the bright bloom weighed heavily, leaning forward in his careless grasp. He rested his chin on the back of his free hand, temple twitching at the not-quite perfect amount of wine for a buzz but enough for a headache. 

MC's voice still floated in the air as if she'd just called about her final report for the RFA event.

"All of the flower arrangements are ready for the party," her voice was stilted over the phone even as she tried to be chipper.

Jumin wondered if she felt uncomfortable around him with everything said and done. "They'll look beautiful I'm sure." He reassured. 

The pause and silence between them felt unnatural and constricting.

"What did you pick? For the bouquets." He finally peeped out, his voice rocking with concern. Had they always struggled with communicating? The memory of being able to freely converse with her, speaking of any little trivial thing that came to mind an easy and amusing way for him to pass the time. Surely he hadn’t ruined things so thoroughly during the time she had spent at the penthouse.

MC’s airy and pitched laugh reached his ears in a painful display of her discomfort. "That'd ruin the surprise."

And what a surprise it'd been.

Jumin had been eager, and even anxious, in awaiting her arrival to the party. Afterall they all owed its renewed existence to her. And he himself owed so much to her too. When they had parted the night before, V rightfully helping her return to the apartment, it had been with a tender apology. She'd embraced him—held him close and promised things would work out the way they should.

He wasn’t sure if it had been a lie or her convincing herself. Perhaps some odd adherration of both to her conviction.

The day of the party came, but MC did not.

It was obvious that Seven had hesitated his journey before finally making the reluctant trek to Jumin with a piece of paper in one hand and a tied bouquet of flowers in the other.

The pink camellia had seemed so bright and vibrant in the light of the ballroom. And even now in Jumin's hand, standing stark and vibrant, the bloom dazzled against the rest of his muted parlor decor. It smiled and flourished, and yet here he sat more dejected and more confused than ever.

Somehow, he managed his way back to the kitchen, where the rest of his  bouquet lay abandoned on his dining room table—scattered petals and bulbs strewn across the wood top due to his careless toss of the bunch. He had been angry and frustrated at the time, but now he felt guilt tugging at the span of his ribs when he thought of the disregard he gave to her last gift to him. The note lay innocently next to it, as if trying to appease him with the gentle slope of MC's handwriting.

I've meant everything Jumin. Said and unsaid. I don't regret anything and I hope you won't either. But we both need this to move forward, I think this is what's right...I hope you'll see that. I've left you the best.

-MC

Among the flowers, pink carnations were the easiest to pick out. The petals crimped and wavy, and the blossoms themselves the most commonplace and plain. And yet MC had made sure the flowers had stayed nestled close amongst bushels of goldenrod. Another odd pick for a formal party. His eye for detail made things easy to recognize that beautiful hardworking and problem-solving touch MC made with every  deliberate and precise choice. He knew that much. From the sorrel that warmly held everything together, to the pink camellias blushing prettily at the center wrapped in forget-me-nots.

In times such as these Jumin realized he had one consultant he could count on, a source where information passed easily from itself to him. Where he could learn unhindered and without bias about the best that MC left behind for him. Because surely, she did not simply mean the best flowers from the bunch. She was too clever for that.

He found himself at a library, in the area with the farmer's almanacs and horticulture how-tos. It was an aisle he frequented when seeking answers to inquiries about his vineyard. 

Heavy and cumbersome, he found an encyclopedic tome titled Whispers from the Flowers. It was an odd name but upon opening it he found satisfaction knowing that his assumption on its topic had been correct. The flower language. Something not in a million years he imagined himself researching. But for MC, he would do anything. And his beloved left behind one very, very important clue. "Things said and unsaid." And he hoped it was more than a mere sentimental way of saying she left him behind regardless of whether or not she was able to relay all she wished to. 

Jumin found the index at the back of the book, searching for sorrel first. MC had meticulously ensured that the green and stringy plant entwined itself around the main bouquet like a cradle. It was hardly a flower and yet the vibrancy of it added life and color outside of the thematic pink hues of the other blooms. Affection. Sorrel is the gateway to confessions and the key to unlocking the heart—it lays bare the raw and pure emotion of those who offer it. His fingers danced over the words, tracing the letters with the faintest of smiles. MC's disappearance seemed like a rather large lack of said-affection, but he knew there had to be further explanation. And all answers resided within the little puzzle she had set aside just for him.

Because she knew and understood he had every capability to solve it. He hoped.

Encouragement. Good fortune. Goldenrod offers the same blade with two edges. One of well wishes and the other of outstretched hands. It is an easy flower to convey both farewells and prosperity. 

Jumin’s breath curled within his chest and his fingers hovered. “Farewells.” It was a mutter, something that he dare not speak more than a whisper.  MC left behind hide nor hair of her existence. The memory of her laugh and gilded eyes were the only proof he could offer. Yet somewhere amongst the agonizing pull in his chest as he read the summary over and over again, he feared that she had truly meant her goodbye hidden within these flowers. 

He knew his own faults had greatly weighed upon her decision to leave with Jihyun that day. But had he really ruined things so much that she chose never to see any of them again to escape him? Were all affections between them nullified because of his shortcomings.

Breath hitched and his fists clenched the book. Memories of true love. Forget-me-nots are the staple flower of sweet love. Anyone gifting their sweetheart with these iconic blooms know every moment spent with their true love will be cherished and treasured. Jumin’s brow furrowed. Contradictory. This was all so illogical and contradictory. If he had not just recently gone through a week-long anxiety attack and now the loss of the woman he had planned to propose to, he’d chalk these meanings up to happenstance and throw the book into the closest recycling bin. But everything said had been meant. And everything unsaid had been meant. He needed for his own sanity and for his own comprehension to know if these flowers truly enveloped MC’s feelings for him. Or if he was just a fool trying to pry into a love that was never his to keep.

“I’ll never forget you.” 

A shudder. The words flowed past his lips as he read the phrase mechanically. “I’ll never forget you.” Each utterance a tremor to his heart as the walls constricted and shook.

I’ll never forget you. Pink carnations are easily the most misused and the most misunderstood. Believed to be a simpleton’s flower, the meaning behind this bloom is often lost due to being handed out of context. It’s beautiful and pastel color can often be misleading. It is a mournful flower, often handed at the cusp of goodbye. A beautiful tendril to remember a fleeting yet vibrant romance. 

The search through the index for the last flower was a trembling one.  Jumin’s fingers skimmed the crisp paper gentle against his skin as he tried to account his increasing pulse to apprehension or suspense. He was approaching the last piece of MC’s riddle and good or bad—real or not—he had been able to come to some conclusion about their parting. About their romance. About them. 

His vision blurred and he felt the world spin.

A note had been tucked away close to the spine where the pages parted. It was a small envelope, no bigger than an index card. “Jumin” had been scripted neatly on the front, and on the back, there was a little flower drawn over the edge of the opening flap. He recognized MC’s handwriting anywhere. Impulse struck a chord with his nerves and he plucked the note quickly before forcing himself to slow down. He wanted to finish this mission. 

Pink camellias. Longing for you.

No more waiting. Jumin dropped the book and tore the envelope open. His heart pitter-pattered and he double took the gentle slope of that oh-so familiar handwriting. The gentle sweep and slant of her penmanship was obvious the moment he gazed upon the ink. There before him, tiny and hopeful, was a phone number. He'd arrived at the end of her puzzle with a growing smile, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. His finger brushed the new note.

"You can be greedy, you know," he whispered reverently. "Around me don't worry. Whatever fears or struggles we may have to face, we'll figure them out together. You don't have to hold back for my sake or for yours."

He pulled two business cards from his wallet, placing one in the forget-me-knots section and the other in the section about pink camellias. Satisfied, he closed the book and walked to the front desk where the head librarian sat typing away on the computer. Noticing his approach, they gave him a warm smile. Holding out their hand, the librarian inclined their head.

"Got everything you need?"

Jumin nodded and handed the book over. "I will soon enough. In the meantime, could you place this on hold? A friend is going to pick it up."

"Of course," the librarian nodded. "Name and number."

"Han MC," Jumin decided with a touch of humor, a welcomed break to his multi-day anxiety high, before reciting the number from the note.

The person assured him that MC would be notified and that the book would be on hold for the next twenty-four hours. He bowed his head slightly and graciously thanked them before heading to the car where Driver Kim awaited. There was so little time to get ready but he wanted to make the most of this anticipation that clung to his lungs with baited breath.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin han #jumin han x mc #mysme jumin

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when someone strikes up a conversation with you

This work, 当有人找你搭讪, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

The fortnightly report in LFG is happening this afternoon. Dressed in elegant and intelligent work attire, your high heels click against the floors of LFG as you head towards Victor’s office.

Victor’s still in a meeting, so you have no choice but to wait for him in the office. A new intern carries a stack of documents and knocks on the door, and you give him an apologetic smile. “CEO Victor is still in a meeting.”

The intern waves using his free hand. “That’s okay, I’ll wait here... may I know who you are?”

Apart from Goldman, nobody else in LFG knows about your relationship with Victor. As of now, you aren’t ready to disclose it to everyone yet.

“I’m the person in charge of a TV production company.”

After hearing your self-introduction, he scratches his head and makes a request.

“Ah, I’ve heard of you. Miss, would you like to give me your phone number? I could let you know in advance if CEO Victor is in a meeting, so you can save yourself the trouble from making a trip here.”

You knit your brows. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I happen to be responsible for addressing queries related to investments. If you don’t mind, we could talk about it over dinner?” Hearing your rejection, he immediately fires a second invitation.

“She minds.”

A mildly displeased voice drifts from the doorway. You turn, not knowing how long Victor has been standing there.

Surprised, you rush over to pull on his arm.

“I’m really sorry, I have dinner plans with my boyfriend,” you tell the intern.

Blood drains from the intern’s face. After saying a quick goodbye, he leaves the office hurriedly.

You lift your head and shoot him a smile. “Teacher Victor, are you jealous?”

He responds with a dark expression. “No.”

With a puff of laughter, you continue teasing him. “If that’s the case, I’ll have dinner with that boy then?”

“You dare to do that?”

It’s unusual for him to wear his emotions on his sleeves. Clearly, the attempt to steal what belongs to him has left him infuriated. 

However, basking in the happy fact that Victor is jealous, you fail to notice it, and even tug on his arm. “Teacher Victor, you were jealous! Teacher Victor, your ears are red!”

“You’re prohibited from laughing.”

Presented with this rare opportunity to mock him, you won’t let go of this chance so easily. “Little Vic is just too adorable! Let Big Sister shower you with affection!”

“Looks like you aren’t clear-headed.”

You reach out to pat his head, even courting death by tousling it. 

“No more pudding this month.”

?!

“Great Victor, I was wrong QAQ”

[ GAVIN ]

Recently, there seems to be a dip in Loveland City’s security, resulting in a spate of daylight thefts. Unfortunately, you were one such victim.

You didn’t tell Gavin about this, because he has been away on a mission for a week. The last time you were on the phone with him, he mentioned that he’d still need another three days. Not wanting him to worry, you decide to report the incident to the police station. The person who attends to you is a young police officer.

“Please describe in detail the situation during the time of the incident.” The police officer requests, his face slightly red.

“I was walking along Finance Street on my way home when a motorcyclist snatched my bag from behind.” 

You do your best to convey everything that happened to the police officer, who then informs you that he will contact you should there be any developments in the case. Because of that, he takes down your phone number.

After a few days, you receive a call from a foreign number. Thinking it’s a business partner, you answer without hesitation.

“H-hello. May I know if you’re that lady who reported the daylight theft incident? We’ve caught the motorcyclist. C-could I ask if you... you have time this afternoon to drop by the police station to con-confirm that it’s your bag?”

Only after a moment do you realise that the person stuttering at the other end of the line is that police officer.

“Sure, I’ll go over at 5pm, is that okay?”

The officer’s voice seems to perk up. “O-of course! See you later then!”

You treat it as him simply being happy to have solved a case, so you don’t put much thought into it. After work, you head to the station and confirm that the suspect caught was indeed the person who had stolen your items. After filing in documents and retrieving your bag, you realise that apart from your money, everything else is intact.

Just as you’re about to leave, the police officer suddenly appears with a rose in his hand. “Miss, I... I like you. Will you... be my girlfriend?”

The confession, which came out of absolutely nowhere, leaves you stunned.

“What are the both of you doing?!”

Before you can react, a chilly and clear voice cuts through the air. It’s Gavin, who has just made his triumphant return!

The moment you see him, the many days of longing courses through your veins, and you lunge towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Gavin, you’re finally back! I missed you so much...”

Gavin’s firm arms gently encase you, and his eyes brim with affection, his voice containing insuppressible tenderness. “I’m sorry. I came back late and caused you to worry.”

Shaking your head, you rub your tears onto Gavin’s clothes.

“Why are you at the station? Did something happen?” Gavin comes to his senses and looks at you worriedly. You explain everything to him.

“How are you? Are you hurt?” Mother Gavin’s first priority is always you.

Even after telling him that you’re completely fine, he still turns you around twice, verifying your state for himself before he relaxes.

“Captain G-Gavin, this is...” The police officer’s voice interrupts, his face pale as he looks at Gavin.

“This is my wife.”

The tone he uses with others is colder by several degrees, completely void of the warmth he has when talking to you. His glares piercingly at the rose.

The police officer visibly trembles. “I won’t disturb Captain Gavin and... Sister-in-law then.” He hugs the rose to his chest, dashing away from the scene.

You tilt your head upwards with a massive grin. “Captain Gavin~ Jealous?”

He coughs softly, rubbing his neck as he faces the side, with no intention of replying.

Seeing this, you tug on his tie, forcing him to lower his head. Quickly, you plant a kiss on his lips. The tips of his ears turn red, and his gaze shifts around unnaturally.

With the joy of someone whose prank was a success, you ask, “So, Officer Gavin, can we go home now?”

Gavin smiles, taking your hand in his.

“Mm, let’s go home.”

[ LUCIEN ]

Ever since you got into a relationship with Lucien, you’d attend his seminars when you have time to spare, becoming a regular guest in Loveland University.

After submitting a report on Friday and seeing that it’s still early, you prepare to head over to the university to make up for lost sleep listen in.

Walking into the large seminar room, Lucien gives you a slight smile from the lectern. After giving him a wave, you look for a seat and settle down.

Biological concepts of cells and molecules are gibberish to you. Paired with Lucien’s unique and gentle voice, you soon grow drowsy, your head bobbing. Seeing this, Lucien inconspicuously pulls open the curtains, inviting the sharp sunlight into your eyes. 

Suddenly, someone pokes your back from behind. 

“Classmate, wake up.”

You whip your head around - it’s a bespectacled male student.

“It’s really hard to keep up in Professor Lucien’s classes. You’ve got to pay serious attention!” He gives you a small smile.

You nod, straightening up to show that you’d definitely listen carefully. But not taking a nap on this beautiful summer afternoon seems to be a waste of this conducive environment. Very soon, you start dozing off again.

The boy sitting behind you proves to be stubborn. Whenever your head bobs slightly, he’d poke you gently to wake you up.

With his amicable reminders, you get through an incredibly “cheerful” lesson. After the class is finally dismissed, the boy gives you yet another poke.

“Classmate, could you give me a way to contact you? Next time, we could sit together during Professor Lucien’s class so I can wake you up when needed.”

You shake your head. Just as you’re about to reject him, a strong arm forcefully tugs you several steps backwards.

Turning, you see that Lucien’s standing behind you, holding a bundle of files. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him.

“Student, do you need anything? It’s been a while since class ended ^-^”

You know that when Lucien smiles this smile, things aren’t good. He’s definitely jealous again. 

“P-professor.” The male student stares at the hand around your waist, realisation dawning on him.

“Wife, you didn’t tell me that you were dropping by my class. I would have reserved a seat for you.” Lucien crinkles his eyes as he looks at you, but all you feel is coldness creeping up your spine. 

You laugh awkwardly. “...hahaha there's no need to. I was in LFG just now, so I came over since I have nothing on in the afternoon. There’s no need for special treatment...”

“I shan’t disturb Professor and Professor’s wife. I’m leaving now!” The student senses that something is odd, and immediately makes a strategic retreat.

Seeing that the hindrance is gone, Lucien sets the files down, trapping you in between his arms and the table. He nibbles on your earlobe gently.

“I think I saw a little butterfly and that boy interacting constantly during the lesson. How is the little butterfly planning to explain this?”

[ KIRO ]

It’s a rare occurrence for Savin to give Kiro a full day of rest. It happens to be Christmas, so the both of you have arranged to go stargazing at Lake Misty.

Dressed in a fluffy red dress, you arrive at Lake Mistry early. Chancing on a booth selling sparklers, you decide to buy some to give your little sun a surprise.

“How much is this?” You ask the boss, holding up a box of sparklers. 

The boss is a young man. Upon seeing you, a blush tints his cheeks. “It’s $2 a box.”

You rifle through your pockets, realising that you don’t have cash on you. “Do you accept payment via WeChat?”

The man eyes light up, and he immediately says, “Miss, you could become a member by adding me on WeChat. This way, I’ll sell you a box for $1, and if you buy two boxes, I’ll give you another one for free.”

Hearing such a great deal, you agree. Just as you take out your phone and input the amount needed for the sparklers, a warmth envelops you from behind.

“Good evening, Miss Chips~ I’m sorry I’m late QVQ”

You turn to see Kiro, who is wearing a baseball cap and a mask.

“You’re not late at all! Ki... Mr Chips, look, I’m buying sparklers~”

“That’s great! Let’s go play~”

Although he’s talking to you, his eyes are fixed on the young man. For some reason, you feel a chill run down your spine. Soon after, he takes your hand in his and leads you away from the shop.

-

It looks as though the stars are right at your fingertips. You wave the sparkler in your hand exuberantly, while at the same time telling him about what happened at the booth earlier. Kiro seems to ponder on it for a while, but soon joins you in setting off the sparklers.

Three boxes of sparklers turn out to be insufficient, and they are expended quickly. After going for a stroll together, shoulders pressed against each other, Kiro sends you home.

You sense that the smile on your little sun has a hint of viciousness in it. But you shake your head, rejecting such a notion. After all, Kiro is so adorable, right?

-

When he’s back at home, Kiro flips open his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. He enters a string of code, then pauses. 

He wears Helios’ fiercest smile on his lips. 

-

The next day, in a phone repair shop:

“Sorry, we’ve never come across a phone virus which deletes WeChat contacts. I think you should check with another shop,” says the repairman to a certain young man.

[ SHAW ]

Hearing that there would be a performance in Live House tomorrow evening, you asked Shaw for a ticket. However, he claimed that all tickets had been sold out, and there weren’t any left for you.

-

This morning, while taking Shaw’s jacket for him, a well-preserved ticket falls out of the pocket. Picking it up, you wave it in between your fingers. “Shaw, what's this?”

Shaw freezes. He didn’t think you’d find it so quickly.

You give him a teasing glance. “And you still said there weren’t any tickets left. Did a certain person prepare one for me in advance?”

Although there’s a slight flush on his face, he grits his teeth. “I happen to have another ticket. If you don’t want it, forget it.” While saying this, he reaches out to snatch the ticket back.

You retract your hand quickly, glancing at the arrogant boy whose intentions have been uncovered. “Who says I don’t want to go? I happen to be free tonight, so I’ll reluctantly watch this little brat perform~”

“Do whatever you want!” Shaw heads out for practice, but it looks more like he’s fleeing the scene.

-

In the evening, you arrive at Live House. It’s even more crowded and bustling than usual. Finding the VIP seat matching the ticket in your hand, you wait for the performance to begin.

Although that brat has a sharp tongue, it can’t be denied that he is incredibly popular. The fangirls flock in throngs. You purse your lips, planning to head backstage to look for him.

When you stand up, a group of ruffian-looking men block your path.

“Miss, do I have the honour of offering you a drink?”

You furrow your brows. “Sorry, I have something to attend to, so I’m leaving.”

“Don’t do that. Our meeting has been decided by fate. It’s just a drink.” The man standing at the forefront doesn’t intend to let you go.

“Miss, it’s lucky for our Big Bro to even notice you. Don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!”

Just as you’re at a loss for what to do, a voice appears from behind, almost bringing tears to your eyes. “Hey, what are you doing?!”

You instantly rush to Shaw, and this enrages the man. “Grab that girl and bring her to me!”

Shaw contacts security, an expression full of distaste. “Why would they let such rubbish in here. It really contaminates my eyes.”

Then, he pokes your head. “Why are you so useless? If I didn’t come look for you, who knows how you’d end up.”

You were already feeling scared and sorry for yourself. Hearing what Shaw said, your eyes redden. “Then don’t appear then! Don’t bother about me then!”

You twist around, prepared to leave. Shaw pulls you back, his voice slightly frantic. “Fine fine fine, I was wrong. Don’t cry.”

Your wipe at your eyes while pushing him away, wanting to leave.

He grips your wrist tightly, then draws you into his arms. “All right, stop crying.”

-

Loveland TV reports that yesterday, three men have been struck by lightning. One of them has suffered severe injuries, and it’s truly lucky that they didn’t lose their lives.  

--

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

[sleepyowlwrites]

find the word tag CCLXXXX

I am posting so much today. must be a green moon or something. I am wearing green. I like the moon. those two things don't correlate but I can connect whatever dots I want, bro. @diphthongsfordays

tragic (dirt in the doing, 2022)

“The person you’re looking for. The one who just inherited a fortune and a dirty company. It’s me.”

The gang seems too stunned to be angry. They’re all still staring, stuck in place.

Rune turns around and faces the board. “These are my parents. They’re dead, obviously. Tragic accident. Actually, not really an accident, I’ve discovered.” She points at each picture as she talks, voice clear and unashamed. Rune has never shown an ability to deliver information falsely or with embarrassment, and she’s not showing it now.

entry entrance (beating hearts, 2021)

“Alright,” Wu Xie says from behind them. “Let’s go.”

He and Pangzi tug the door open the rest of the way and all four of them walk through the entrance. The hairs on the back of Liu Sang’s neck are all at attention but he has no explanation for it beyond the uneasiness he always feels when his hearing is compromised. There’s a lurching in his gut that gets more forceful as they go, but he chalks it up to the heavy beat of white noise on his eardrums. It’s making him sick, of course it is. Still, he feels he ought to say something.

Liu Sang moves his tongue around in his mouth, trying to find the right words and the right order to put them in. The river becomes more deafening as they gradually descend, clinging to every inch of his skin like a buzz that wants to cut him in half. It hurts, but he’s used to that. There’s nothing wrong with the river, nor the sound of its rushing, only that it’s so loud that it’s hurting him.

bland (summon story d0)

Dair moved his mouth around again, this time looking like he was attempting a smile and just didn’t quite have the energy for it.

Zan smiled at him instead, trying to defuse the rest of the tension lingering in Dair’s limbs. “Don’t listen to her. I don’t make lopsided arrays.”

“Erin said you did just last night,” Dair said blandly, looking at the array in question. “And she’s intimidating so I have to believe her.”

“Just because she’s intimidating doesn’t mean she’s right,” Zan grumbled.

unnatural (summon story supplemental)

“You’re also mad to put new arrays down exactly where an old one was without properly cleansing the ground first. Even an inactive array can attract unwanted power and attention.”

Shae couldn’t help flinching at the sound of the creature’s voice. It wasn’t horribly guttural or threatening, but it did sound very unnatural, like gravel being laid down as road.

“Thanks for the advice,” Shae said warily, slipping a hand behind her back to grip the handle of her knife.

The skeleton seemed to catch this action and Shae had no idea how it was able to convey that it was amused by this - perhaps the way the smoke moved in and out of their skull - but she certainly felt like it was about to laugh at her. It? Them? Shae had no answers. And no defense if she were to be attacked.

fall (the sleepy stash, 2022)

I can’t fall asleep, can’t fall asleep I have lost my dreams, lost my dreams When the night creeps in, it creeps in And I find myself back here again, back here again

Some mountains aren’t for climbing But this one I’ve taken on Some hopes are built on nothing But these days I fish alone For a thread to connect me to the only things I’ve known I’ve ever known

I've taken to including at least one poem since you like them, Sounding. walk, under, bridge, vessel. BONUS: crawled, beckon. @ellatholmes @writeblrfantasy @quilloftheclouds @homesteadchronicles @vellichor-virgo OR ANYBODY or nobody

#find the word tag #tag game #searching circle #is there some reason posting is extra broken today?

[anime-and-manga-rants]

The Problem with The Promised Neverland’s First Episode (Part 1 of 2)

The problem with The Promised Neverland’s first episode (and to a certain degree, the first chapter of the manga as well) is its telling. Everything important for the audience to know is told through dialogue that is so unnatural that it unceremoniously tosses the watcher out of the story.

Therefore, today, I’ll be pointing out the scenes that I believe are the worst examples of this. I’ll even be throwing in the first episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen and Attack on Titan to compare with TPN to highlight its downfalls. 

So, first, let’s start with the opening scene of TPN. 

Right off the bat, we get: “We’ve never been outside” as one of the first lines in the show. This is a fine example of one kind of telling: when characters tell each other information that they are all already aware of. Why would Emma say this? It’s purely for the audience and not for Norman or Ray, but they’re not trying to talk to the audience. This isn’t a comedy anime that purposely breaks the fourth wall for laughs. 

Telling rather than showing, in this case, creates unrealistic dialogue that makes the story seem less real— it disconnects us from the story and doesn’t let us live in the world with the characters. We can’t get attached to them because we don’t get to learn anything about them ourselves. The show merely tells us what we need to know rather than letting us figure it out on our own; the writers are treating us like idiots, really. (Of course, this is usually the case with telling in dialogue. I only meant ‘in this case’ in the sense that telling through dialogue isn’t the sole way to tell rather than show.)

Right after this comes: “That’s because we’ve been here every since we were born.” Again, Norman and Ray know this. Obviously. Why would anyone feel the need to say this except to inform the audience? 

Then we move on to information that is especially easy to convey through showing rather than telling. For example: “Mom always tells us, doesn’t she? ‘Don’t go near the gate or fence in the back of the forest because it’s dangerous.’” Not only is this even worse than the previous quotes because she feels the need to add unnecessary details (“in the back of the forest”), but the information could be so easily conveyed through their actions and dialogue. 

What the anime wants to get across is the fact that they’re not allowed outside because it’s supposedly dangerous. That shouldn’t be too difficult to get across to the audience through showing. In fact, they do most of it just a few lines later. When Emma asks what Ray and Norman would like to do if they ever got to go outside, the audience instantly knows that they’ve never been outside before. (Furthermore, their answers could be such a good way of revealing something about their personalities. Which, unfortunately, their personalities are revealed horribly later. I’ll discuss this in Part 2.)

And what if, after they all said what they would like to do if they ever got to go outside, one of them said they should head back? If their voice was shaking, and their facial expression was clearly strained, the audience would know that they weren’t supposed to be there. All they would have to say then was something about how they should go before their Mom finds them, and the showing would be complete. The audience would be able to conclude all the same things that the telling did— they’d just be able to do it on their own. And we want the audience to do it on their own. We want, as the audience, to be in the story with the characters, to figure out their struggles ourselves because it forces us to be a part of the story. 

To compare, let’s use the opening scene of JJK. 

There’s no telling in this scene at all, and therefore, it leaves the audience guessing, wondering what will happen next. It forces the audience to gather the little information the scene does give, like the fact that there’s a Fushiguro we are yet to meet (courtesy of Itadori saying “Fushiguro-senpai!”) and that there’s a school called Jujutsu Tech, where Gojo is in charge of its first-years (courtesy of Gojo introducing himself).

One of the only lines that could possibly be considered telling is Gojo introducing himself, saying: “Gojo Satoru. I’m in charge of the first-years at Jujutsu Tech.” The difference between this and TPN’s atrocious dialogue is the simple fact that it isn’t actually telling. Gojo is introducing himself to Itadori more than the audience— after all, Itadori’s never met him. This works because Itadori has no idea who Gojo is, unlike Emma, Ray, and Norman, who all know the information that Emma is telling them. Gojo is talking to Itadori, and Emma is talking to the audience. 

The other line that could be seen as telling is the last line of the scene: “It’s been decided that you’ll be secretly executed.” However, once again, this information is for Itadori and not the audience. Just by Gojo’s wording, and coupling that with Itadori’s shocked reaction and clear lack of understanding on why he’s with Gojo in the first place, make it obvious that Itadori isn’t privy to much more information than the audience is. 

Jujutsu Kaisen does an excellent job of creating a scene that instantly eliminates any chance of telling through dialogue in a way that The Promised Neverland does not. (This is specifically referring to telling information through dialogue that everybody in the room already knows.) And JJK does this by simply giving us a character that knows about the same as we, the audience, do. In other words, nothing. 

#the promised neverland #tpn #tpn anime #tpn manga #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji #tpn emma #tpn ray #tpn norman #anime analysis #tpn analysis #jjk analysis

[xiaomoxu]

MLQC CN Lucien (Xu Mo) Art Gallery Date Part 3 & 4

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

It's Xu Mo Date which has released on CN server. I'm doing translation for personal reason, so I'm sorry if there's some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) feel free for read it~ ^^

Read previous part here

Part.3

MC: The sculptures in the gallery are used by some Evolver to convey information about illegal transactions.

MC: I have heard about this. If we can find a trading point for these people this time, it will be a good thing for both of us.

Xu Mo gave an indifferent hum, and suddenly bends down slightly. The sound of light breathing fell in my ears, and I suddenly froze.

He let out a chuckle from his throat, then spoke very softly

Xu Mo: Then please trouble Miss Nox, to double check this art gallery with me.

The light in the museum is soft and bright. Between the quiet or exaggerated sculptures, Xu Mo's breath envelopes me overwhelmingly.

And I even a little greedy for this moment like a world away.

The sky gradually dimmed. I almost inspected most of the sculptures in the museum, but found nothing.

MC: Is it possible that they have destroyed the evidence?

MC: Xu Mo?

Xu Mo didn't answer my question, I couldn't help but look away to him.

In the pure white sculpture world, he stood in the corner of light and shadow and looked down at the solidified portrait that was carefully protected in the booth in front of him.

The lines of the portrait are deep and tough, and they contrast with Xu Mo's quiet face, like a quiet painting.

I stopped and stared at the scene in front of me.

Just like many times before, when I looked back, I could touch his gentle gaze.

Xu Mo: Are you looking at me?

Aware of my gaze, Xu Mo raised his eyes to look at me.

Although I still cannot fully understand the emotions in his smiling eyes, I have learned to respond with a smile.

MC: Yes, I am watching you.

I admitted frankly, looking back at Xu Mo, a trace of surprise flashed in his eyes, and he became calm and quiet again.

Xu Mo: So can you tell me, Did you see anything?

MC: I saw a general counsel who was not looking for clues seriously and was lazy.

Xu Mo bends his eyes slightly.

Xu Mo: In this case, it seems that I have to be more serious.

Xu Mo: Calling me just now, did you find something?

MC: I gave a "um", and spoke with some doubts.

MC: I wonder if someone has transferred the clue you are looking for.

Xu Mo: maybe.

He didn't look surprised, his eyes hanging slightly on the sculpture.

MC: Is there anything special about this sculpture?

Xu Mo: not at all

His tone was flat, as if the person staring at him for a long time was not him.

Xu Mo: The carving techniques are not so subtle, and the facial expressions are somewhat unnatural.

MC: Then why do you care about it?

Xu Mo: Did you not notice?

Xu Mo: The protection of this sculpture is the best done in this exhibition.

Xu Mo: Compared with the occasional scratches on other sculptures, this sculpture still maintains a smooth and clean surface.

Xu Mo's gaze flicked over the sculpture that was carefully guarded, and the emotions in his eyes were difficult to distinguish.

Xu Mo: It seems that its owner can’t bear to let it suffer even a little damage.

MC: This is natural.

Looking at the intact sculpture, I seem to be able to feel the love of the owner.

MC: For works that have devoted all their efforts, one cannot be too careful.

Xu Mo shook his head.

Xu Mo: I don't think so.

Xu Mo: If just blindly protect, the sculpture can only be a fragile statue after all.

Xu Mo: Only by letting the work really face the tests from the world and time can it become a masterpiece of extraordinary significance.

His voice was deep and soft, as if he was talking about sculptures, but as if he was talking about something else.

Part.4

By the end of the evening, Xu Mo and I had already spent an afternoon in the art gallery without knowing it.

MC: Still no clues were found, not even suspicious places.

MC: Xu Mo, why do you say this?

I tried to piece together the facts from everything in front of me, but when my eyes touched Xu Mo's figure, I suddenly realized something.

From beginning to end, I was trying to find clues in Xu Mo's mouth.

But Xu Mo has been watching the sculptures unhurriedly.

Xu Mo: Like you said, maybe someone has already made the first step.

He didn't seem to care very much about the result, his tone was light.

There was something in my heart that made me feel a little unbelievable idea.

In order to confirm this conjecture, I walked to the side of a sculpture, pretended to examine it carefully, and then beckoned Xu Mo carefully.

MC: Xu Mo, come here, I seem to have found a clue!

Xu Mo: is it?

I hid a document in my arms, pretending that it was the information I found, and then stared at Xu Mo's reaction.

He slowly approached and glanced at the sculpture next to me.

Xu Mo: do you know?

Xu Mo: In my eyes, your every move is easy to interpret.

Xu Mo suddenly leaned forward, trapping me between the sculpture and him

MC: ! What are you doing!

Xu Mo looked at me directly, paused, and seemed to sigh slightly, and took the ordinary document from my hand.

Xu Mo: Yes, there is really no clue.

Xu Mo: I just want to find an excuse to spend an uninterrupted afternoon with you.

There are very few people in the pavilion, and the area not detected by the sensor lights gradually darkens.

Behind Xu Mo was the vague darkness, which climbed up to the edge of his coat, reflecting his loneliness and danger.

But he looked at me quietly, as if he wanted me to hold his hand and pull him to my side.

I remembered how he pretended to be serious about discussing information with me, but tricked me into visiting the entire exhibition hall.

MC: Xu Mo, you have gone around such a big circle, just want me to accompany you?

Xu Mo: is it not OK?

His tone was light and faint, but with an inexplicable weight.

Xu Mo: Recently, you seem to be very busy.

Xu Mo: Busy enough to have a cup of tea with me, there is no time to say a word

His tone seemed to be imperceptibly wronged, and he looked at me quietly.

I was a little stunned, I didn't know what to say for a while.

Because there was no movement for a long time, the sensor light above the head also went out with a "pop".

In the darkness, Xu Mo chuckled lightly.

Xu Mo: It seems that it is time to close.

Xu Mo: Today's visit is also time to end.

The outside of the art gallery is already dark.

I followed Xu Mo on the road full of wine and the setting sun. After hesitating, I walked quickly to his side, and then reached out and wiped his clothes.

Xu Mo stopped and looked at me sideways, seeming slightly surprised.

MC: I remember that the Secret Research Section of the Task Force does not need to work overtime on weekends, just as I will be fine next weekend.

I raised a smile to him.

MC: So Professor Xu, can you lend me your time next week?

Xu Mo looked at me quietly, then curled his lips, and his voice fell into my ears clearly along with all the noise.

Xu Mo: of course can.

-END-

Thank you for reading, kindly let me now if there's any mistranslation ><

#mlqc translation #mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn #mlqc date #mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo #mr love date #mr love Lucien #lucien date #xu mo date

[okay-victoria]

Writing Dialogue

While some choices in dialogue will come down to style preference, most fanfic dialogue suffers from a much earlier problem of being done incorrectly, no matter what the stylistic preference. Once basic spelling & grammar is mastered, and assuming the fic contains more than a handful of dialogue, I think bad dialogue is the thing that kills my enjoyment the fastest. I can handwave plotholes and understand emotions that weren’t conveyed right, but I can’t read people having a conversation that doesn’t look anything like an actual human conversation.

Problem 1: Too Much Drama

We want our scenes to pulse with energy! Of course we want the dialogue to be dramatic! The problem here is, what makes for good dramatic dialogue is not people yelling powerful words at each other very passionately. What makes for dramatic dialogue is mostly the importance of that scene to the plot & the characters, so to achieve dramatic dialogue, the best thing you can do is not overly rely on the dialogue itself to be dramatic. Set up a dramatic situation, and then people don’t have to yell. They can say a few basic sentences and the audience already knows why it is important and why the characters care so much.

Have you ever seen the scene in The Room where Tommy Wiseau yells “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!” Did you actually find that dramatic or did it just make you laugh because it was overdramatized? That’s what dramatic dialogue does to a story. Unless your characters are middle schoolers exclaiming it out in the hall between classes, chances are, older and more mature characters aren’t going to do a lot of yelling or make weirdly dramatic statements like the world is ending.

One of the biggest offenses on this count is overusing exclamation points and overusing emphasis. Exclamation points should be used very, very rarely, as should telling your reader what words are meant to be emphasized. Your character’s mood should primarily come through action - are they slamming doors, pacing back and forth, collapsing into a chair? Dialogue tags like “shouted” or “replied angrily” can be used to help, but should not stand on their own as the only thing portraying mood.

Instead of looking like this: “OMG! Can you believe it! Drama! Let me scream all the drama out in a monologue!” Lisa screamed, it should look like *Lisa kicks off her shoes, one leaves a mark on the wall* *Lisa slams bag down on counter, opens fridge for beer* *Lisa’s boyfriend stands frozen, as this is not normally how Lisa comes home from work. “This thing happened.” *Lisa collapses into kitchen chair and sticks head in her hands.* *Lisa’s boyfriend comes to put a hand on her back*. “One sentence reminding reader why Lisa is upset about this”.

Problem 2: Too Little Drama

Alternatively, you get scenes that sometimes look like two college roommates got high and are trying to acquire a pizza with as little effort as possible. Let’s say, for example, you have one character that has a crush on another character, and they are trying to find out information about them. While maybe the character learning this information is going to do something with it, so it’s important to the plot in another way, so the conversation itself does not need to be dramatic, it might end up looking like this:

I met Crush after class and we walked together. “What’s your favorite color?” - “Red” - “Do you like dogs?” - “Yes. Did you do the homework?” - “Yes. Math is my favorite class. How about you?” - “P.E.”

Like with the above, setup and action are everything. If you set up the scene where we know in advance how long it has taken Karen to get up the courage to talk to Chad and things like that, and then include actions in between the dialogue to show that she is nervous and therefore not very talkative, like her glancing up at him briefly but looking away as soon as he makes eye contact, or have her analyze Chad’s mood and wonder if he’s annoyed, etc, the scene can be made much more meaningful without needing to be a “dramatic” scene.

Problem 3: Dialogue is written like exposition

This tends to go unnoticed by some authors who are otherwise decent, and for me really ruins an otherwise decent story. The writing within the dialogue tags is written well, it just isn’t written like dialogue. It is written like exposition/narration.

In exposition: This project was doomed from the beginning. The improvements might look nice on paper, but the law of diminishing returns was going to stop it before it really started. Sounds...not excellent, I just pulled an example out of my ass, but fine.

In dialogue: “I think this project is doomed already,” Bob said, looking around the meeting room. “The improvements might look nice on paper, but the law of diminishing returns is going to stop it before it really starts.”

...sounds like Bob is kind of a psycho, or possibly your most pompous and hated coworker. Who the hell says “Law of Diminishing Returns” out loud if they aren’t a professor? The longer the dialogue and more flowery/technical/big vocab it becomes, which often *adds* to exposition, the worse and more unnatural the dialogue becomes.

Dialogue should not feel the same as the “speech” when a character is thinking. We tend to be fairly limited in how we express ourselves, use shorter and more simple sentence structures, more basic vocabulary, and haven’t memorized what we are going to say, so it doesn’t come out eloquently.

The one real exception to this that isn’t really dialogue, but is speech, is if you have a character making a speech or presentation, which they have prepared for in advance, and it is reasonable for them to give it uninterrupted.

If you want to make a point of one of your characters sounding like a total tool when they speak, you can also do this to achieve that and make it immediately clear to the audience why everyone hates them, but unless that’s what you’re going for, avoid this at all costs.

Problem 4: Dialogue is otherwise unnatural

Always, always, until you’re pretty damn sure you’re pretty damn good at it, say your dialogue out loud.

Would that personally really say “What is that?” or is it “What’s that?” Along the lines of not needing to use emphasis as much as you might think, if you were, say, in Scotland and just saw the Loch Ness monster pop out and want to ask your companion what it is, “What is that?” is fairly unnecessary. “What is that?” suffices. The simple fact that you didn’t use the standard contraction means the character emphasized the “is”. If you just see a piece of mail on someone’s desk that you are curious about, you’re going to say “What’s that?” and it won’t sound like you are dramatically asking about a generic piece of mail.

There are lots of very minor and small things that can easily go wrong in dialogue of this nature. It’s really important to say to yourself: if I was in this situation, how would I say it? Read it like you are acting it out in a movie and see. Also, question if a person would even say a sentence like that to begin with, or if they would be more or less direct in their approach. More direct is appropriate in many cases because people are usually trying to communicate clearly. Even if they are lying, they usually just say a direct statement that is a lie, they don’t dance around it indirectly and give hints to the other character. More indirect is appropriate when a character is trying to have a difficult conversation - we don’t tend to give tough advice or be directly rude, we try to work around it to make it sound better.

Because people want to have “exciting” or “cool” dialogue, they will often also give characters great rebuttals all the time, where they have these snappy conversations. This *can* work, but it’s really hard to pull off well, so in general I’d limit it to having a character having the occasional good rebuttal than a conversation of back-and-forth snark. Honestly, most of us just can’t think on our feet that well, and unless you’ve built the case that these characters can [ie, they’ve been married 20 years and are having the same arguments over and over so have it all thought out] it just seems very unrealistic.

Problem 5: Underutilizing dialogue tags

If you have two characters speaking, theoretically, if we know who the first speaker is and they switch off, a reader can follow the conversation indefinitely and know who is speaking.

In practice, that doesn’t happen. We like to be occasionally reminded. Personally, I try to max out at four consecutive lines of untagged speech, so no more than:

“Hey” said Kyle when he saw Brad.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Partying, bro, what did you think?”

“Haha, true. Do you think Lindsey will be there?”

“Man, you have such a crush on her,” Brad laughed.

Problem 6: Overusing dialogue tags

Conversely, in a conversation that is easy to follow, every single line does not need to be followed by a variation of “X person said”. If you are going for a tight back and forth conversation where neither character is thinking in between, you want to gum it up as little as possible with extraneous non-conversation. Hit us with occasional dialogue tags, and that’s it.

Problem 7: Not breaking dialogue up

This is somewhat of a style question, but in general, conversations should only be quick back and forth when that’s the point, but otherwise should generally pause briefly to “show” people doing actions, give some character thoughts, or otherwise break it up so the entire scene isn’t just a conversation.

Also, you can use these pauses as a way of showing hesitation/actual pauses that happen in the conversation.

Problem 8: Huge breaks between dialogue

This is something I am probably the *most* guilty of myself, because I’m writing a story where characters analyze the other characters a lot, so sometimes they’ll pause and think for a while in between. I haven’t quite arrived at the level where I’ve figured out how to get that all to flow in a way that breaks the dialogue up nicely, but not so much it is jarring and you’ve forgotten what the last thing a character said was.

But, anyway, definitely something to keep in mind. While a scene shouldn’t usually be all conversation, breaking the conversation up too much makes it feel like it isn’t a conversation at all.

#writingtech

[chiaki-translation]

SR Taichi [Puppy Waiting for Spring] Backstage Story Translation

Hmm, this story is amazingly hard to translate? Not that it’s hard though, more like a lot of things are lost in translation but I hope you can still enjoy the story because Taichi is still cute...

Summary:

Taichi was trying to change his image for his university debut.

It’s an event card from the previous campaign act, and I’m referring to this one:

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber Entertainment

As usual, translation is under the cut, enjoy~

Aim for University Debut!

Translator’s Note: I put a lot of notes in between the story because otherwise there will be a few things that’s hard to understand. 

Taichi:

Hehe~

Director:

(Taichi-kun seems to be having so much fun reading that magazine…)

Taichi:

Ah, Director-sensei!

Look at this!

Director:

“For Your University Debut”…?

(I guess it’s the time they have this kind of special features)

Taichi:

I’m aiming to be a popular man in university so I was thinking of going to school everyday in a fashionable manner~!

Aim for it! My popular campus life!

Director:

Po, popular campus life…?

What’s actually written in the article?

Taichi:

“University’s a big chance for you to finally break through the shell you’ve been keeping!”

I also want to quickly have a breakthrough!

Kazunari:

What what~?

Tai-chan, what interesting things are you looking at now!

Taichi:

I’m looking at advice on university debut!

Azuma:

Hee, so that kind of thing exist.

Tsuzuru:

So what else are written there?

Kazunari:

I’m also curious!

Director:

(Even the college students are curious…)

Taichi:

Eh…

“If you dress up too fashionably, people might recognize you as ‘someone out of their reach’”

I was thinking of wearing the cool looking hair set everyday to look fashionable, like what I did during the graduation ceremony.

Tsuzuru:

“It’s better to look natural rather than a try-hard” is it…

Well, there’s a point there.

Azuma:

It’s better to look like yourself I guess.

Kazunari:

You’ll get it when you’re there as a new student.

Taichi:

Eh, really!?

Kazunari:

Yep. A lot of people are giving out vibes of trying too hard to be fashionable~

But it’s actually fine!

It’s a good chance to actually try to change yourself isn’t it?

Azuma:

Speaking from experience, right.

Taichi:

That’s true.

I was thinking of how to present myself from the beginning also, this is hard.

Kazunari:

Is there anything else you’ve been thinking of?

Taichi:

It seems to be a good chance to finally graduate from my image as a puppy!

Tsuzuru:

Image change…

Well, Itaru-san also mentioned that last time.

Kazunari:

That sounds interesting~!

Looking forward to see Tai-chan with the image change!

Taichi:

It’s also written in the magazine!

“University’s the time when you’re free from your dark history during high school, it’s a big chance to be reborn as a popular character!”

Azuma:

Fufu, as I thought you want to be popular.

Tsuzuru:

But, what kind of person is exactly a popular character?

Well, I kinda get it vaguely…

Taichi:

About that~

It’s still a task that I haven’t been able to solve…

Kazunari:

…. Ah! That!

Director:

Eh?

Kazunari:

How about trying to change Tai-chan’s “-su”?

Director:

That’s true… Changing the way you speak is the easiest way to change your image.

Azuma:

When you change the tone of your words, even the mood can change.

Taichi:

As expected of Kazu-kun!

Then from now on I’ll seal the “-su” from my mouth!

Tsuzuru:

So you’re going for speech without any suffix.

Taichi:

I’ll do my… best!

Translator’s Note: It’s  important to understand how Taichi usually speak. It’s just lost in translation but for example on this sentence, usual Taichi will add the suffix “-su” from “ganbaruyo!” into “ganbarussu yo!”. The point though, he’s trying his best not to say “-su” to sound more mature/normal. I’ll try my best to convey it in the conversation.

Omi:

Everyone, I made a cheesecake,  would you like some?

Director:

Wah, thank you, Omi-kun.

Tsuzuru:

I want some.

Azuma:

I’ll also take one.

Taichi:

I also… want!

Tsuzuru:

… It seems you already have some momentum for your “-su” huh.

Translator’s Note: He was saying that Taichi stopped for a moment in his sentence which was supposedly for his “-su”.

Azuma:

It becomes a little awkward.

Director:

It’s hard to change suddenly isn’t it…

Omi:

What happened?

Azuma:

Puppy-kun here is trying to change his character for his university debut.

Omi:

Oh… I see.

Kazunari:

But, I think it’s a good idea to change the suffix.

It can lead to image change too!

Taichi:

You’re right!

I’ll do my best!

Translator’s Note: He ended his sentence with “-su”.

Kazunari:

Tai-chan! You’re back too fast!

Taichi:

Ah!

I… I’ll do my best!

Director:

Good luck, Taichi-kun!

(I hope it goes well…)

<End of Part 1>

Taichi:

Good morning!

Director:

Good morning, Taichi-kun.

Omi:

Breakfast is ready.

Taichi:

Thank you! Let’s eat!

Yep, Omi-kun’s food is as delicious as usual!

Omi:

Haha, that’s great.

But as I thought something feels off…

Director:

Ahaha…

Azuma:

It seems like you’ve been trying hard.

Taichi:

Yes! I was practicing with a whole lot of different ending!

Translator’s Note: Taichi is speaking… properly. Even I’m not used to this…

Chikage:

Good morning.

Taichi:

Chikage-san! Good morning!

Chikage:

Something feels a bit different from usual.

… What happened?

Tsuzuru:

He wants to try changing his character for his university debut and now he’s trying to change the way he end his sentences.

Chikage:

I see. That’s why the tone changes.

I’m looking forward to your new image. Good luck.

Taichi:

Yes!

<Shifts to Corridor>

Taichi:

Ah, Director-sensei, do you know where Yuki-chan goes-noda?

Translator’s Note: Hmm… How should I explain this? He’s starting to add more weird way of speaking and the translation really didn’t do any of them justice. For this one, he’s adding “-noda” instead of “-su” at the end of his sentences which sounds pretty old fashioned.

Director:

Eh?

Yuki:

What’s with that way of speaking.

Taichi:

I’m in the middle of looking for a good ending-noda!

Yuki:

Nobody talks that way nowadays.

Taichi:

Uhh…. I actually think that way too -noda…

Director:

(This doesn’t look good…)

<Shifts to Bath>

Taichi:

Ten-chan, can you pass me the shampoo -daze!

Tenma:

Ah, yeah…

You really try your best to change your character huh.

Taichi:

Of course -daze!

I’m going to show you the new me during my university debut -daze!

Misumi:

Taichi, good luck~

Taichi:

Alright -ze!

I feel that this is going to go well -taze~!

Itaru:

But don’t you feel like you come out too strong now?

Taichi:

Re, really -daze?

Hmm, then…

<Shifts to Lesson Room>

Director:

Everyone’s here, so let’s start practice now.

Taichi:

I’m gonna go all out -dawayo!

Translator’s Note: Taichi, I love your new outfit, but that way of speaking… For your information, the ending “-dawayo” makes him sounds more girly.

Director:

!?

Omi:

Somehow, I’m reminded of the time of The Stranger’s performance.

Juza:

Are you doing another role study for a female role?

Taichi:

You’re wrong -wayo!

I was thinking if I do this I’ll  be able to understand and get closer to the girls -dawayo!

Sakyo:

Isn’t it too unnatural?

What happened to that feeling that you got with Zero.

Director:

(As I thought, it’s starting to go haywire…!)

Banri:

There’s no relation with being popular isn’t it.

Taichi:

I, is it -wayo?

Juza:

I think it’s better for you to stop it.

It just gives you the sense of familiarity right?

If you end your sentences with -dawayo, you’ll just sound like a woman.

Banri:

You generalized too much!

Azami:

Well… I also think that character doesn’t suit you.

Taichi:

Wa,wah… -wayo.

<Shifts to Balcony>

Taichi:

Director-sensei…

What should I do for my image change…

I’ve tried a lot of different ending, I can’t think anymore.

Director:

I, I see.

Well… I’ve been looking at Taichi-kun the past few days, as I thought hearing you speak without “-su” is a bit lonely.

Taichi:

Director-sensei are you sure it’s okay to keep “-su”?

Translator’s Note: His “-su” is back from this sentence onwards.

Director:

Taichi sounds like a kouhai who’s doing a club activity that he loves, I think it’s pretty cute.

Taichi:

I see… If I’m being loved because of my puppy-like kouhai character then I’ll use that as my tactics and aim for that!

Director-sensei, thank you!

When I enter university, I’ll keep using “-su”!

Director:

(Puppy-like kouhai…

That just sounds like the usual Taichi-kun.

But as expected, the natural Taichi-kun is the best version of him.)

<End of Part 2>

#a3! #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! translation #nanao taichi #a3! backstory #a3! backstage

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

So Dick and reader in love but too stubborn to admit it. Reader has healing powers but more an exchange where she takes the pain and carries it herself and Dick is protective and forbids her to use it and they get in a fight and he blurts out his feelings (enter smut maybe?) ... they date low key (cute fluff?) until one day other titans find out. One day dick is badly hurt and they bring him back to the tower and their only choice is for her to save him ... can go where you like with it 💔❤️😭😫

OKAY! It took me a while, but there it is. It made me so happy to write on Dick for a first time fully on him (thought I couldn’t resist the slightly Jason Todd usual angst, I’m sorry, it’s just a taint, I swear). It’s 8:46, I’ve been all night writing because I really felt like so, and I just hope you like it as much as I did. AS you will quickly notice once the smut enters, the second part is not yet posted, written; without the smut alone it was something like 3000~4000 words, and it was quite long, thus, I decided to make it into two parts. As soon as the second is posted, I will edit this post and leave a link so that you can follow it. It was such a beautiful request! I tend to make my characters more... Red Hoodish? Angered? Petty, snarky? But this time it came out as vulnerable. I KNOW she can come off as intense, but it’s all for a reason; I hope I properly conveyed that. WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

SUMMARY, PT. 1, as stated in the ask, will include: Reader with healing powers who gets included into the Titans has a close relationship with Dick, eventually. They crush on each other, quite hard, and smut eventually ensues.

WORD COUNT: 5040

TW: various abuse mentions implied, not explicit. I tried to keep it as vague as possible. JUST A WARNING for the second part, it will contain definitively ANGST. So if you are here to stay, just take that into account, Happy ending not confirmed.

It has been done before; the Robin’s have never had any unnatural powers but they’ve been prepared for every occasion. Dick wants you do the same, just in case something happens – and you can hear Kori’s scoff from the back as he proposes the weekly training to the rest in the tower. It’s not like it’s uncommon to have one on one’s; but it’s frowned upon within the tower, as when mandatory it implies that something needs reinforcement. You don’t want to be exposed, and as one of the latest additions you haven’t gotten close to the group yet. It has never been really your style to integrate yourself into already made up friendships. It made you uncomfortable, so you have been sticking to Nightwing’s schedule and company when offered; he seems to have a soft spot for you, and as much as you’ve been trying to not be too easy, you know that are crushing on him hard. From the glances here and there, the murmurs and the scoffs, you can guess Koriand’r and Nightwing are not on good terms as of now. Maybe something personal? Your first instinct was an intimate relationship; but for the moment nothing has been confirmed, even if you can see the faint jealousy in her eyes whenever he asks you to stay behind.

           You wish that every little thing imagined by each of the Titans would be actually true: hot and heavy makeout sessions in the main room of the tower; quickies in the bathrooms after sparring; maybe even intimate moments alone, reassuring him like you know he does sometimes after making a specially difficult decision (and having people go against him, all the time). But what actually happens is quite pathetic; you really do train and spar, hard. Until you are out of breath, your lungs burning and every little muscle of your body aching and begging for a rest. Nightwing is relentless; you can’t use his name yet, it’s too uncomfortable, too personal. And you don’t want things to get to that level yet, as bad as you want to kiss him though.

           The reason for the one on one’s training? None other than him not wanting you to use your powers. Abilities. Whatever the name, Dick does not feel comfortable with it, not after seeing some of your scars and the hurting nature of what you can do. Showing him was easy; he recruited you after all, and saw the conditions you were enslaved under, for a Gotham mafia serving for the constant regeneration of hurt dogs in fighting rings; sometimes men who came too hurt. Other was just simply some hardcore sparring they could have for fun, having you as a backup for curing them whenever necessary. You don’t know really when you acquired them, but for as long as you have known, you can exchange physical and psychological pain, make it yours. With physical contact, always physical contact in between, you could absorb the pain and own it; depending on the gravity of it, it could open wounds in your own body (generally arms and legs, sometimes on your sides and back, but those were hardcore ones). Psychologically it was trickier; you could absorb trauma, scarring experiences or unprocessed events from members who had been in catastrophic events. It was quite useful in Gotham where there was a shooting, bombing or slaughtered every three days. It kept them in top form, in and outside of the business – and as expected, it was the thing that hurt you the most. You were not sensitive by nature, but this made you cry. You could generally process it, in due time; but the nightmares were something out of your control.

           Nightwing’s room was the closest to yours, and he generally pounded on your door until you woke up and came up to apologize in the door. He would look at you with… Pity. You despised it. Felt embarrassed, felt less, felt little; like you were again chained to the mafia and someone looked down on you. But you weren’t there anymore, and his intention wasn’t really that of making you feel less. He just wants to hug you.

           He confesses so after your second month in the Tower, while sparring. Gar and Raven have actually welcomed you quite nicely, and you are able to use their names (not Beastboy, not Nightwing). Dick and you have gotten quite close; close enough to at least confide in you before officially explaining some plans, laying out schedules seeming as you seem to be very aware of every person’s response inside the tower

           (“No, if you assign Gar on training grounds again he will fume for days before actually getting started on it. Give him first day of patrol so he can feel better about herself, then training grounds. Maybe include Kori.”

           “No, I think Kori would be better on the front lines of the sky. Maybe borders?

           “Uh, well, I don’t mean to dwell on errors, but do you remember the last time you assigned Kori alone on the skyline frontier? It’s a bit risky, Richard.”

           “Dick.”

           “Yes, Dick, okay”

           “Well, you get a point I suppose. Should we include Raven?”)

           It was quite direct, now that you remember it:

           “Stop scoffing! God, get over yourself!”. You laugh; you joke now, a bit. It’s mostly jabs against him, seeming as you two haven gotten more comfortable and can even talk now when sparring.

           “It just was too predictable, (Y/N)!”

           “Oh shut up! You are the predictable one. I just wanted to try out a move”.

           He makes a feinting, making you stupidly step back and protect your upper body before being swept down in the floor. You fall on your ass, groaning out of exasperation rather than out of pain. He still comes to offer you a hand, with a brow arched.

           “What do you mean I am predictable? I’m Nightwing, baby”. “Baby”. Or babe. He has been calling you that for a while, endearingly you guess. Does it actually make you close? You can’t really speak on his behalf, but he makes you smile, and you would say you are friends. Maybe not the closest, not like him and Wally that go way back, but you two confide and have sometimes spent dawn talking until getting into bed.

           “You and your nighttime routine, come on. It’s always the same: making sure everyone has dinner, everyone interacts together at some point, and then sending them off early whenever they have to patrol or have something planned. Then you think no one notices, but when you ‘go to make a midnight snack’, you are just checking everyone is in their beds tucked in and fine. Not like me, I guess”. You scoff; it’s not meant to come off as a self-deprecating joke, but you can see why it comes as so when he furrows his brows. “I just meant insomniac. Fuck you”.

           He laughs and so do you, but you can see something’s bothering him. You stop smiling and while getting into a sparring position again, you look at him expectantly, before making any move. You are telling him, without actually doing so, to just spit it out with your expressive eyes. He gives in, sighing.

           “It’s just-I know it took you a lot of time opening up. And I swear I have never entered your room without permission, but finally noticing you leave it open in the night makes me sleep better… Even if your… “Dreams” seem to have stopped.”

           You don’t actually know how to take the information in the moment, quite taken back that he noticed. You trust his word, and assume he hasn’t really come in your room, not that there’s anything worthy of being inspected; you only brought a few civilian clothes and a couple of books with you.

           “Did you every try to come in? The first nights. I guess it would have been scary. Or worrying, rather.”

           “It just made me feel powerless. I-“. He stops himself. It is getting deep, and you have never dwelt on these topics before. It was left unsaid; acknowledged, but not talked upon. You didn’t want to, after all, they had mostly stopped. It was over. “Someone close to me before used to have them as well. It was distressing to see them woken and completely… Lost. Scared and alone.”

           Your mind immediately assumes things. You open your mouth, and this time it is him the one urging you to continue, with his dreamy and perfect eyes. It is going to sound bitter, and worse than that, jealous. You should have shut up, not even think about it.

           “Kori?”. You mutter, almost in silence, refusing to meet his eyes and refocusing your attention into your feet, like they were not in the perfect position to launch onto him. It will, hopefully, make your intentions less obvious.

           “No.” He’s particularly fast in answering. You can tell he is trying to see what’s wrong in your feet, you fumbling with them and refusing to meet his honest eyes, but you don’t give in. He continues, for your surprise. “My brother. He is dead.”

           Fuck. And you assumed it was his fuckbuddy. You wince, embarrassed, but he quickly comes to your rescue, just saying it is fine and that he is not grieving anymore. He hast let him go, as much time as it has passed; but something in his eyes seems broken, which is odd. Richard-Dick wouldn’t lie to you. If he was not over the death of his brother, he would tell you. It’s something that bothers you while he comes close to you, and you get yourself into a defending position. This time you don’t control it when he grazes your arm, but it goes numb from the pain: you are absorbing it.

           You fall to your knees, as dramatic as it can sound, taking your left arm harshly with your right hand, as if trying to stop the pain from getting to your hand. You groan and Dick is quickly to get next to you, confused to what might happen until the gears in his head start moving and make it click.

           “I told you not to use it!”

           “You were lying!. How the fuck was I supposed to know?!”

           “Fuck!”

           The pain is intense, but it’s short-lived in comparison. It doesn’t spread to your hand, and you are able to use it; but your arm is render useless after moving it a couple of times. You can’t feel anything inside. If someone were to break it, you wouldn’t notice.

           “Are you okay?”. Dick seems really distressed; he hasn’t been able to do anything for you, other than staring and hoping that it would go quick. You nod, biting your tongue still; once you release it, it hurts less. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. I thought I-. God. Don’t do that again. You have to control it!”

           You close your eyes, wincing still; is he really lecturing you? You can’t believe it, gripping still your arm; still with some pressure, like it will help. It doesn’t.

           “Oh, fuck”. He sits in the mat, and you copy him as well, both of your hands in the cool material of the sparring floor. It helps a bit, and thus you lie down. Dick lays with his head next to your, but his body on the other direction. It feels actually quite intimate. “It’s just-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scold you, it just took me by surprise. I just remembered-“.

           There’s a pause, where you only press your cheek to the mat, staring directly at him, curious. You don’t need to urge him on; he will continue on his own, when he is prepared.

           “I remembered your nights. The tore my heart apart. Every time. I wished I could just-go in and hug you, like I did before. Try and make it safe for you, even if it’s just a bit”. He looks at you, your eyes unfazed, maybe confused and a little scared; not of him, just the warmness of your heart as he talks. He must misinterpret it. “No, shit, I meant-ah. I know I must sound like an asshole, right? Paternalizing and-“

           “No. Nononono” You mutter quickly, almost getting up as he makes the attempt to do so, maybe escape. You cling onto his shoulder, stopping him from actually doing so. You roll over yourself, resting now your chin in the mat. The mats are getting warmer under your presence. You can touch now where his head was, can almost savor the sweetness behind his intentions. But you can’t help but feel a bit scared; no one has done that to you before, cared like this before. You have been alone for quite some time. These kind of pretty empty words can be your downfall, because you want it. You want it so bad it hurts a bit like before. “I mean-I wanted that. It’s just-I-I have never had that. I don’t know how to accept it, how to take it. Or if I’m being stupid for taking your word as truth and I’m just being… Trapped, so that-“. The more you talk, the worse it gets. You sit up, sighing and hiding your head in your legs, for a second. Darkness makes you think better, it can calm you down amidst the silence of the training room. “I’m being really stupid here. Just please, forget it. I know what you meant, and I really appreciate it, Richard.”

           Things can get personal. You can get too emotional. And he most definitively didn’t mean it like that; it’s just you and your desperate need to feel loved, wanting to be loved. You thought it could be him, with him, but-is it too perfect? It would be too perfect. You are self-sabotaging; probably, at least, you think you are. Things are good, and you have a good friend to confide in. Feelings are just getting in the way to confuse you, to lose him-no, maybe not even that. Just use him, like he wants to use you. You are a healer, the secret weapon of the group: he hasn’t tell the rest because he plans on taking advantage of it. You are just a tool, you’re still being used by Gotham’s mafia, still chained, still-

           “No! You are not getting it! Wait stop, please! I won’t raise my voice, I-“. You have tried to escape. As soon as you stopped talking, you got up and was really prepared to lock into your room, take a deep breath, and calm your feelings down. But Dick is faster; he grasps your arm, stops you dead in your tracks, slightly pulling you into his arms. You wince, sore and still a bit hurt even when you can’t fully feel your arm. You quite thank it, given that where he is grabbing you seems slightly red. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to you stay”. He says, taken back; you can’t see it, but your eyes seem scared by his violent movements, the way he wants you to stay. He knows a small part of your life only, but he can imagine so much when your eyes look at him like a defiant small animal, terrified but putting a brave front. He feels like shit, you can tell quickly. “Please listen to me. I promise I’m not putting you in any position; I’m very aware of how inappropriate I am being, with my position in the Titans group and-and you being new. With what I said before I just meant I cared for you, (Y/N); deeply. I know it’s not been long, but I have strong feelings towards you. I’m not sure yet if they are because I see you as someone I deeply trust, or because you are something much more to me. But I know- I know I like you. And I want to do these kinds of things with you. Can I?”

           He asks permission, as he grabs your chin and pulls you closer. You won’t say no. Not because you can’t, but because you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this probably since the start and kissing him feels just like you imagined and so much more. It is like a fairytale finally savoring him: it’s sweet, it’s tentative and caring. There is warmth, no passion, just like you want it. His hands move quickly, almost possessively to your sides, slightly scratching the outside of your thighs, and you know what he wants to take, grasp. Almost like he knows, when you gasp as he moves his hands slightly, he stops touching you altogether, saying sorry quite quickly.

           “Just surprised, don’t stop”. You gasp out, going for his mouth again, with a bit more of passion. You feel his muscles underneath his training shirt, his masculine scent; he is safe, he is protection and trust at the same time. You have never cared too much about love in the situations of the like, but you need someone you can feel safe around, not judged. Trust. “I’ve wanted this as well. I just didn’t think you would want me, I’m a mutt”.

           When his blue eyes get to yours, he is heartbroken. He kisses your eyelids softly, with an extreme care. It almost makes you cry.

           “You are not a mutt. You are wonderful, caring, kind and noble. You have the warmest heart I have seen. You are intelligent, funny and just a tiny bit sarcastic. The right amount to actually offend me.” You laugh and he looks more relaxed. He is serious looking at you; his bronzed skin, sun-kissed and his perfect eyes piercing yours. Like he wants to make sure you know. You nod, slowly. “Don’t’ say you are a mutt, because you are not. You have been gifted an incredible ability; I just don’t want you to use it because you get hurt in the process. Nothing else; not because I think you would come off as weird or unnatural, (Y/N). You are beautiful. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but we don’t have to do anything. I can make you believe it other ways.”

           You kiss him back as an answer. It’s all he needs to know, all you really need to say. You still want it to happen naturally, but your hands are cleverer, know more, as they get under his shirt, touching his sides. He slightly shivers, making you botch chuckle, before he actually gets his shirt off. He tosses it aside but doesn’t instantly try and take yours as well. You kiss, deeply, tongues starting to intertwine and slight moans escaping your mouth.

           “You are driving me crazy, (Y/N). I have goosebumps”.

           “You are such a dork.”

           He laughs as well, and you stop kissing him just so that you can take off your shirt, revealing a grey sports bra; it’s not very attractive and you open your mouth, as a defense, to protect yourself from criticism. You expect it.

           “I will bring my lingerie for our next sparring session, I promise.”

           “What are you talking about? You are divine”. You feel hot, dizzy; no one has told you that. Not even in your first time, where you were supposed to lose your virginity in the midst of a teenage love hurricane. “You look so good it’s insane.”

           You giggle (giggle!) into his mouth as they meet again; but this time he is surer of his movements, he makes you step back, retreating into a more secluded area of the training room. He presses your back into the wall, slightly shivering and making you moan due to its coldness. He says “sorry”, as his thumbs play with your skintight pants, slightly pushing them down. It feels almost teenagerly as you moan into his mouth and fumble with his sweatpants, showing off a bulge against his grey boxers. It’s the sexiest thing you have seen, and you want to drop off your knees.

           “I want you to fuck my mouth”. You say, in the heat of the moment, still looking down at his underwear; and this is the moment where it changes, where Dick charges against you and starts eating your neck, his hands making their way into your bra.

           He is turned on. Maybe he didn’t know you were like this; you didn’t know he would be like that, either. You feel his hard fingertips almost tentatively graze your nipples once your bra is over your tits, discovered; they pinch them, slightly press them in, playing with them and making your stomach squirm of excitement, a slow build-up. Your knees press themselves together, but he makes his way in, separating them and making you sit on his, as his right knee presses into the exterior of your core, damping your underwear. You are wet; starting to be so, at least; the neck kisses are a weakness of yours. Quite audible and visible, one could argue, seeing as in trance as you are as he leaves marks on the skin, makes his way up to your ear where you obscenely moan as he turns you on, bites on it and whispers: “I want to make you cum”.

           “Fuck, Dick.”

           “If you want to.”

           You close your eyes, slightly chuckling, as his mouth makes his way down this time, his thumbs slowly taking the pants of you as his tongue gives some attention to your perked-up nipples.

           “They are divine. So unbearably cute and excited. All for me?”

           “Yes, yes. All because of you, for you.” Devour me, you could say, and he would bite with your hips squirming and your knees weak as he presses his knee again into your core, this time underwear fully sticking to your damp area. His mouth gets around your left nipple and bites down, gently; it makes you gasp quite loudly, your own hand trying to cover the sounds of your mouth. “Dick, I-“

           “I know. I wouldn’t have taken you as moaner, but I love it. So vocal, so sweet and cute. Just want to make you scream now, though. I want to see your blissed-out face.”.

           He is going to go down. You know it as he gets on his knees and his nose traces a way down your chest, to your stomach, and finally your pubic area. He takes your underwear down, dark, with his teeth, your stomach trembling and excited; you shiver, his tongue making his way up once your knickers are off the scene. He licks the interior of your right thigh, until he can almost taste you dripping on your thighs and onto the floor. It’s insane, but it’s been too long and Dick is giving you the right attention in all the right places, again licking a stripe up your left thigh, until he almost reaches a drip going down, leaving you hot and bothered, whiny.

           “Oh, please, please”. You beg first, quite quickly. He laughs, giving in and eating your thighs out, leaving out some marks and cleaning you, almost. But he never goes in, never touches you inside, your pussy still exposed and trembling, opening up almost in anticipation.

           “Please what? Eat or fuck you?”. His mouth. His dirty words get you off, almost, shivering and moaning. Both sound equally good, and you can feel yourself dripping a bit more, getting impossibly wet. It has never been a problem, but maybe after when it comes to cleaning-“Love, if you don’t say it-“

           “Fuck me with your fingers. Then fuck me”.

           His tongue seems like too much. Too intimate at the time. It will probably make you cum quite quickly, and you don’t want that yet. So he complies, his fingers getting covered in your lubricant before attempting to go inside. Relief is in your face as they get in, and you almost bend over him. He kisses your stomach, goes slightly down; he seems almost tentative, and you can feel he wanted to lick you up. Maybe he’s into it.

           “Next time”. You murmur; one of your hands tries to stick to the wall, to not fall onto him. The other one is on his hair, caressing him. His fingers are slowly getting deeper, two, and making you moan, close your eyes.

           “You are a bit tight, love. Nervous or-?”

           “It’s just been long, I’m just-not used to it. Please just fuck me.”

           The desperation in your voice is audible, and thus, he does not question it. He digs in a bit deeper, attempting to get three fingers, before he gives up, licking them out plainly in your sight. He, without you seeing it, has been palming himself; he is hard, twitching slightly in anticipation. You lay down on some mats that are piled up in the corner and open your legs, inviting him in: his eyes are bright, shine, as his forearms rest at both sides of your head. You would say it’s like a cage, but it isn’t: he’s not caging you, he’s protecting you from the rest of the world. He has been doing so, but offering you freedom from within. He is demanding for you to look at his eyes.

           “I’m not particularly big, but it’s going to take a bit to bottom out, okay? You don’t have to, sweetheart. Just tell me whenever it hurts, or at any discomfort. I want you to feel good.” He puts your pleasure above his, and you nod, signaling its fine; but you don’t fully know until his head gets in and you clamp down on him, feeling it foreign. It’s intense as he gets in, and your nails go into his back quickly, holding onto him. You trust him to be stable, resist as you press your fingertips only; he doesn’t tremble or budge, just moans out as he gets slowly in. “Fuck, (Y/N), I feel like a virgin”.

           You laugh out as you can, opening your legs slightly so that he can slide in easily even when you are completely closed down on him. He has to force himself a bit on you, but it’s worthy; he grazes something inside you that make you shout his name first time in the night, leaving you lax in the floor and completely open. He takes advantage, sliding himself until he is halfway there, your hips searching for him and gasping, feeling full.

           He moves just like that; cradles you almost, in a slow rhythm as he makes love to you in the floor. His arms are strong, and your hands hold onto them, almost desperately at times as he makes you moan again and again; eventually they get turned into shouts. He doesn’t get to bottom out, not completely; but you definitively can feel him in, as he groans and moans your name in pleasure.

           Like out of frustration, he turns you on the floor. Your nipples feel the warmth of the mat, your cheeks against it, in a submissive position almost, with your butt, almost automatically, in the air, on fours. He doesn’t press your head into it, but his hands take your hips like you are all his, all for his pleasure. He hasn’t gotten out, and thus he tries to get in a bit more as well; you moan, slightly out of pain, slightly out of pleasure, as he resumes his pace. It turns out to be mortal, as you get transformed into jelly, a moaning doll that cums twice under his touches, his bites on your nape and back, and the kisses in the middle of your back that make you tremble. You shiver, unable to maintain your own weight once you have cummed for a second time; he lets you rest, open your legs slightly more and relaxing as he stops, not budging in or attempting to go any further. It’s you the one that sits on his slap and almost fall onto him, clamping immediately down and almost cumming for a third time. You are so sensitive, you feel the orgasm on the border, on the brink; his pace is brutal, as you try to meet his thrusts up. The sound of skin against skin is the only thing audible, unless you are attentive enough to hear the little muffled moans by his hand; the only way to keep you down, as tears are making their way through your eyes, out of pure and divine pleasure. It’s too much, too much – and at the same time, it’s the perfect amount as he gets to come, moaning into your neck and eventually biting down your shoulder.

           He presses his forehead to that same spot, kissing it slowly as if asking for forgiveness.

           “I’m sorry, so sorry I hurt you, (Y/N). I just-“

           “I love you”. You say before, shutting him up immediately. It just takes him a second to response, looking more vulnerable than ever at your lips, your eyes.

           “I love you; just as much, if not more”. He confesses, kissing you deeply, full of care and love, respect as his hands caress both of your sides, again saying something similar to “sorry” to your body. He has not been violent; you can tell he has been containing himself, but you like that too. He cares. He is not like the rest. “Promise me you will come to my room tonight. Or I can come to yours, if you are fine with that. I don’t want you sleeping alone. I need you.”

           And no one has ever needed you like he does, like his voice shows, more vulnerable than ever.

           “Okay”. You mumble, too tried and pressing your forehead to him, kissing him slightly. “Come tonight. Only cuddles and pecks allowed, though. We are keeping it PG-13 for the tower, hm? ”

           “Whenever you are ready we can tell the rest. Under your rules, love.”

           And you think this time it will all be okay. As he hugs you closer, naked and trusting, you realize you love him, all of him; and maybe, as well, you know that you won’t be able to resist him or follow his promise. In a heartbeat, you would give your life for his.

#anon #request #nightwing x reader #nightwing #reader insert #dick grayson x reader

[holydragon2808]

The Last of Us Part II: Abby and Plot Review (Sometimes, The Straightforward Approach Really is the Best Way to Execute a Story) MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOTH GAMES!

Yo, fellow gamers and geeks alike! How goes it? Don’t mind me. Just the dragon coming out of her den to rant/review within the realm of geek culture yet again. Since the beginning of The Last of Us Part II’s release, there have been some pretty strong opinions on the plot of the game (to put it lightly….).

I’m still in the middle of completing the game myself, but I’ve pretty much been spoiled the entire story anyway, enough to express my opinion about certain aspects of the game, particularly my feelings on the odd narrative framing choice for what (IMO) should have been a fairly straight forward executed plot line. I was going to wait until I’ve completed the game for myself, but time just doesn’t allow for a lot of gameplay for me at the moment, so I’m writing this review fairly prematurely (though I have watched everything on youtube). I’ll probably post a part II of this review after I finish the story for myself if anything changes.

Anyway, based on what I’ve personally seen and heard (both from personal gameplay and online), my main opinion (so far) is that the ideas, the themes, and the concept behind TLoU II’s story itself are overall decent to me.

However, the way Neil Druckmann and the rest of Naughty Dog chose to frame the narrative is decidedly not.

And a large part of it IMO is how they chose to implement this new character named Abby in the story. Not to mention the over reliance on shock value, and trying too hard to illicit certain emotions and reactions from the player, rather than just trusting the content to steer the narrative and giving the player space to have their own personal experience with the story, something the first game understood and did very well.

Needless to say, there will be MASSIVE SPOILERS for both TLoU I and TLoU II plots from this point onwards. Last chance to back out the den now!

To try and make my point, the original game did a wonderful job of establishing its dark premise, its major characters and getting the player emotionally invested in wanting to know more about both from the outset with a good prologue set up, taking place 20 years before the main time period of the story proper.

During the prologue of the first TLoU, we (as the player) are introduced to (main character) Joel and his cute, young, (but sadly ill-fated) daughter Sarah shortly before the outbreak of the Cordyceps plague. The player gets the opportunity to see Joel at probably his “(moral) best” in the game prior to everything going to hell (and even then the game still establishes the darker parts of his overprotectiveness rather well).

We see him depicted as a very loving and protective father, hardworking, and just generally and average everyday guy (neither “good” or “bad” just “normal”) trying to make a living in the world as he’s talking to his brother (Tommy) on the phone trying to secure a business deal. And then the world begins falling apart at the seams with the trio forced to flee from their now infected neighborhood, doing whatever it takes to get out alive (even if it means now they have to kill other people, something neither probably would have fathom doing prior to the outbreak), setting up a very miserable, but soon to be familiar pattern for them and any other people determined to survive in this devastated world.

Unfortunately, just as they make their way out of the area, Sarah is fatally shot by a soldier tasked with killing any stragglers in an attempt to contain the chaos. And all Joel can do is watch the light leave his “baby girl’s” eyes….

During this short, but very meaningful first hour or so of the game, we have Joel’s dynamic with his biological daughter established (a very fun-loving and healthy and overall heartwarming bond between them), the overall sibling yin-yang world perspectives between Tommy and Joel (how the former is more idealistic and more willing to help others even amidst a crisis, while the latter is cynical, lives more in the moment, and primarily focused on the survival of himself and his closest family) and how those respective character traits subtly foreshadow several major events to come between Tommy and Joel, how and why they eventually drifted apart from one another over the years, as well as the latter’s final choice regarding Ellie and the Fireflies in the finale.

Also by this point, we as the player are invested in these characters from the jump, and have a good idea of what’s going on in the larger scheme of the story (and the direction it’s going….pretty bleak but engaging), and what’s to come so that by the time we’re at the end of the prologue and Joel is getting emotionally shattered by the death of his only daughter, we as the player are right there with him. It was clear that Naughty Dog wanted to make the player sad and emotionally invested in the moment.

The difference in the first game from the second is that the creators seemed more willing to trust their own content to carry and convey the emotional weight of the story and the scene. Shock value is still very much there in the prologue (Sarah’s death was somehow expected and out of nowhere at the same time and it worked because it was just heartbreaking to see such an innocent and nice girl gunned down in her youth), but it’s not the sole driving factor behind the scene itself. Then we jump 20 years into the present day, the world is a very different place and Joel is a very different person.

He’s not the most likable, moral, or friendliest old dude around, but his brutality, his cruelty, his bitter resentment towards humanity over the course of the game is very understandable and the player has been given the time to understand the deeper nuances of his character and establish a bond with him and understand his later feelings and actions regarding Ellie and the Fireflies at the end of the game. His actions certainly weren’t “right” but they were definitely human and understandable.

Well, certainly a lot more understandable/human than it would have been had the game opened with Joel dooming all of humanity from a cure by killing all the doctors with no other context and then trying to force us to empathize with him after the fact.

That’s the problem with Abby’s implementation at the core of the second game’s story, and sadly, it’s enough to mar nearly the entire experience. When Abby first appears, we as the player know nothing about her (and I mean nothing. We don’t even get her name until at least an hour or so after controlling her. That’s not the best introduction for a soon to be major character….).

We get nothing about her, then she kills Joel from the jump (about barely 3 hours into the game), and puts Ellie on a warpath and all of it goes down from there. By this point, we still know nothing about Abby (but hey, at least we as the player get a name before she bashes Joel’s brains in with a golf club). And not only do we not know anything about her, but Naughty Dog didn’t realize that this framing choice effectively prevented the player from wanting to know or care about her as a character.

At this point, later forcing the player to later control her and empathize with her for 10-12 hours is out of the question. She should have remained squarely in the villain role (from Ellie’s point of view). The shock value of Joel’s murder is there as they wanted (whether good or bad is up to the player), but without knowing anything about Abby beforehand, all it really does is completely alienate Abby from the player before we could have gotten a chance to know anything about her, or even want to know anything about her. That’s what I meant earlier about TLoU II not giving the player space to understand and relate/connect to/with the newly introduced characters, to have the scenes and the content convey the emotional intent without the need of these unnecessary forced framing choices and over the top shock value instances.

Seriously, how hard would it have been to let the player know from the outset that Abby was associated with the Fireflies, and that her father was the lead surgeon that Joel killed to rescue Ellie five years ago? From what I understand, it’s several hours into the game before this information comes to light.

The game makes the mistake of introducing Abby in such a way that the narrative (almost to an absurd degree) assumes that the player is already invested in her. We’re not. We’ve literally just met her. And we as the player are given no room to get emotionally invested in her as a character, and when the game finally realizes that “oh, without some context on this matter, no one will care about Abby” (roughly 12 or so hours after the fact from what I’m understanding) it feels like it’s too little too late. 

We as the player never received the opportunity to understand who she is, who she’s after, what her deal is, nothing prior to the controversial murder scene (it all happens after the fact, but by then, people are typically closed off from truly caring or able to change their minds about her so the whole 10 run feels more like a slog narratively rather than a deep, engaging “walk a mile in this person’s shoes” thing. 

We’re just forced to continuously bounce back and forth between controlling her and Ellie throughout the game from the beginning. That’s honestly not the best story structure….ND....you can’t shove Abby down our throats later and expect us to truly care about her. That’s not how it works. And even the whole “well, we wanted the player to hate Abby” thing falls apart because the later scenes where we’re forced to control her feel very unnatural and are often trying too hard to FORCE the player to empathize with her rather than just again, trusting the content to allow us that (again, give the player some space to experience the narrative, build things/people up better, stop relying on shock value without the adequate suspense) for ourselves in a more natural way like with the characters and the way they were presented in the first game.

And Why? Because Naughty Dog was so focused on trying far too hard to illicit certain reactions/emotions from the player. Yes, the overall framing of Joel’s untimely murder at Abby’s hand is bold and (to a point) brilliant in getting us to feel exactly (and I do mean EXACTLY) what Ellie feels in that moment because she doesn’t know any more about this Abby chick than we do. That definitely works for getting us to feel something for Ellie and truly understanding her pain and sorrow in the moment, however, in the larger scheme of the narrative, it was unnecessary. We’re ALREADY just as emotionally invested in Ellie as a character by this point as we are Joel. They are both returning characters.

If they knew that they were going to have Abby (an entirely newly introduced character) kill off one of their major (returning) characters in the first few hours of the game, and ESPECIALLY if we were going to be forced to control her later, then all of their efforts should have been made into making Abby as emotionally understood as possible from the very beginning. This easily could have been rectified with a montage, or a playable prologue or something explaining exactly who she is and her friends were. THEN have her kill Joel somewhere in the middle of the game (while having her conflicted over doing so in part because he saved her life multiple times). People would have still hated her as you wanted ND, but her story is much more understandable and less convoluted and infuriating for the player to experience (and not in the genius way that you think, but just in the “bad story structured way”). The canon structure of Part II might have worked for a novel, or a movie or TV show or something. 

This is a story driven VIDEO GAME. Players directly experience the narrative, not just read or watch it. It has to work in a way that doesn’t feel like an outright HATE message directed to the player themselves. There’s a difference in “exploring the themes of hatred and revenge” in a game, and “deliberately creating something that people are going to despise” (something Druckmann said. He literally said that he’d rather people passionately hate the game rather than just saying “eh, it was ok”). 

To me, I think it would have been more conducive to focus their efforts on creating an experience that people would ultimately LOVE TO PLAY AS A GAME, as Naughty Dog explored the themes of hatred/revenge solely within the realm of the game’s content, rather than this borderline preachy way they presented this current flop of a story. Just IMO.

It’s sad too, because it would have been a great opportunity for Naughty Dog to fill in some of the gaps in the first game regarding the Fireflies, getting more of major key moments from the Fireflies’ point of view (since their movement was largely in the background of the first game, but still prominent enough) and she could have served as an interesting foil or something to both Ellie and Joel.

Abby is a character who lost her father at the hands of Joel, while Ellie never knew hers and found a father figure in the very man who took Abby’s father away from her. Joel in the first game was depicted as a man who had largely given up on humanity after everything that happened to him, more than likely didn’t believe humanity deserved a cure, or at least damn sure that to him it wasn’t worth losing Ellie over, and killed a lot of the Fireflies to rescue her.

Abby had a direct connection with the group, her father probably a hero in her eyes for still wanting to do the right thing and help humanity (what was left of it anyway) and was brutally murdered by someone who, by all accounts was nothing but a thuggish criminal and smuggler from her point of view.

All of those things could have been compelling and made Abby more understandable and relatable from the start. Would her killing Joel in such a brutal fashion so early in the game still have been bad? Absolutely. However, to me, the difference in knowing who she is and what her deal is before hand would have at least given the player the space to decide how much so for themselves. The overall framing choice of the narrative made this story more convoluted than it needed to be unfortunately. I get what Druckmann was going for overall, but the over reliance on shock value and screwing around with the player’s emotions in this game ultimately came at the cost of good story structure in the process. Sometimes, the straightforward approach is the best way to execute a story….

Well, that’s it for part one of my review. What do you all think? Agree? Disagree? Let me know what your thoughts are on the matter. But for now, I will return to my Den. Thanks for reading! If you liked this review, then stay tuned for my follow up after I complete the game.

Edit: Part II of my review is up! If you liked this, and want to read about how I would have personally structured this story, here’s the link to that!

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #ellie the last of us #tlou ellie #joel the last of us #joel miller #abby the last of us #tlou #tlou part two #tommy the last of us

[haberdashing]

Eyes Wide Open

Gerard Keay finds out that there’s more to the afterlife than being painfully bound to a book for all eternity, featuring one Timothy Stoker.

(Props to @divorcedmilfaddict for betaing this and helping me reign in my inner comma gremlin!)

on AO3

Gerard Keay wasn’t sure what he was, or why he was, or how he was, or even for that matter where and when he was, exactly.

But then again, that Gerard was was enough of a surprise in and of itself.

He hadn’t entirely trusted that... Jon, was it? Sure, Jon had torn Gerard’s page out of the book when he’d asked, but Gerard knew better than to assume that was the end of the story. He didn’t put it past Jon to keep the page as a sick sort of prize or to shove it into the Institute’s Artefact Storage or to do something else that wasn’t getting rid of the bloody thing already.

But this... this felt different. It didn’t hurt to exist now, not like it did in the book where life and death mingled unnaturally, where he both was and was not dead and that contradiction ate at everything in his being. It wasn’t quite like being alive, though, either. It was... still. Still and calm and quiet.

All things considered, Gerard wouldn’t object to a bit of quiet.

Gerard didn’t see Jon or the Hunters that had kept him imprisoned for so long or anyone else he recognized for that matter, but he saw his surroundings just the same, though he couldn’t place the area around him at a glance. A handful of cars plodded along driving on the left, so he wasn’t in America at least. Hotels, businesses, and homes mingled together oddly--some sort of vacation destination? A resort town perhaps, or a tourist trap of another variety?

Gerard thought he could make out the smell of sea salt in the air, but he wasn’t even sure which ocean he was near.

Then he heard what sounded like a calliope playing in the distance, what sounded like a circus just beginning to open its doors, and Gerard still didn’t know where he was or how long it had been since he had spoken to Jon but he had a sick feeling he knew exactly what that music meant.

Gerard followed the music, hurried to find its source, and evidently the true meaning of that music wasn’t known to the general public yet because while he was hurtling towards instead of away from certain danger the handful of people he encountered on nearby sidewalks, walking unhurriedly towards destinations of their own, didn’t give him so much as a first glance, let alone a second one. They just went about their business as if he wasn’t even there, as if the end of the world wasn’t in progress a few blocks away, remaining blissfully ignorant to everything that didn’t fit nicely into the small circle of their own lives.

He wondered what it felt like to have a pedestrian life like theirs must be, to go about your business unaware that there were eldritch powers scheming at all times to bring about terrible new worlds of fear and horror. Living a life like that had never really been an option for him, after all. He’d been in the thick of it since the day he was born. Since his mother set her eyes on him for the first time.

Gerard had managed to pin down the source of the calliope music to a large, dilapidated building and approached said building just in time to see it collapse in front of him, a series of sizable explosions turning what had apparently once been some sort of museum into a pile of rubble and debris.

The music stopped when the building fell, which Gerard supposed was a good sign. While he hadn’t cared about it terribly much when he was bound to the book, stuck in a half-life of torment for the foreseeable future, now that he could explore the world more freely again he’d prefer it not end or get apocalyptically transformed to the point where it couldn’t truly be considered the same world anymore.

Still, it seemed oddly anticlimactic for something as grand and strange as the Unknowing to be stopped by a building collapsing around it. Gertrude’s plan would probably have been a bit subtler, but then, Gertrude wasn’t around to carry it out anymore, so explosions it was, apparently. Jon’s handiwork there, Gerard assumed. Apparently the little he knew about the Unknowing, and how Gertrude had been preparing to prevent it, had been enough in the end. Good to know their agreement hadn’t been entirely one-sided.

He looked for survivors, human or otherwise, a task that’d been ingrained in him for some time now. He was no Gertrude Robinson, wasn’t the type to stop grand rituals threatening all of humanity all by himself, but he did his part to save a few people at least, spare those that could still escape from the horrors that haunted this world.

Gerard’s eyes fell on a woman whose blue hijab had been tattered and torn in the explosion, a few stray bits of debris clinging to her back and legs as she lay on the ground near the periphery of the destruction, clearly breathing but also clearly not getting up in a hurry.

He edged closer to the woman, trying not to look too closely at the loose strands of hair that had escaped her hijab. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

No response, which wasn’t entirely unanticipated, but still wasn’t a good sign.

Gerard reached out to grab the woman’s arm and check her pulse--even if the Unknowing was over now, a building collapsing around you could easily lead to more mundane injuries that needed tending to sooner rather than later--but his own arm never made contact with hers, instead reaching through her flesh as easily as if he were moving through thin air, and now that he got a closer look at himself, Gerard could see that his body was ever so slightly translucent.

In hindsight it made sense, it was logical enough that one form of undeath where he couldn’t fully interact with the living world would give way only to another, but the realization still came as a rather unpleasant jolt.

Gerard could hear the sound of an ambulance siren ringing out somewhere in the distance as he backed away from the woman, who remained seemingly unconscious and definitely unaware of his attempt at contact.

Alright, so he’d been dead, and he was still dead, and being able to interact with the living only under certain circumstances wasn’t entirely new... now he just needed to figure out what the new set of circumstances for that were. And whether he was going to stay like this for the long term, or whether he was going to get shunted into some other form of undeath before he had the time to examine things properly. And whether this was just regular death now, the End in its final form, or whether there was something more going on here. And perhaps whether this all meant Jon had actually burned his page from the book like he’d promised.

Christ, he could use a cigarette... but he still wasn’t getting one any time soon, was he? Figured.

As Gerard stood by the remains of what had been the staging area for the Unknowing, he saw a lone figure making its way towards him from out of the rubble.

The man approaching Gerard was tall and fairly muscular, with a short-sleeve shirt that showed off dark tattoos on his arms and hair that was clearly a natural inky black, the kind that Gerard had tried and failed to emulate with brand after brand of cheap hair dye over the years. His eyes were wide, his skin tawny, his body tense, and honestly, he was pretty good-looking despite (or perhaps because of) his unassuming and casual clothing, though that was one opinion Gerard figured he would keep to himself for the time being.

Perhaps most importantly, though, the man’s body was the same sort of translucent as Gerard’s own, and he stepped through the debris around him as though it wasn’t even there.

As the man drew closer, Gerard could see a deep fire in his eyes.

“Who the hell are you?”

Gerard resisted the urge to flinch, to back away, instead standing his ground and looking coolly at the other man. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Yeah, sure, but I asked first, and I was here first, and if it came down to it I’m pretty sure I could punch your lights out first, so...”

The other man probably wasn’t wrong, when it came to that. Gerard Keay was many things, but especially skilled at hand-to-hand combat was not one of them, and his would-be opponent had the advantage when it came to both build and stature.

Though he wasn’t sure if they even could get into a fistfight now, given the state they were both in... still, probably better not to find out the hard way.

Gerard raised his hands in the air, open palms facing the other man in a clear gesture of peace. “Alright, I’m-”

But before he could finish his sentence, the other man’s eyes widened further and he cut off Gerard’s speech. “Hang on, I think I’ve heard about you. Are you Gerard Keay?”

Gerard wasn’t sure what to make of this other man apparently being able to recognize him on sight (admittedly, his eye tattoos were fairly distinctive) while he couldn’t say the same the other way around, but it didn’t seem like a good sign.

Still, no use hiding from it. “Yeah, that’s me. You’ve heard of me, then?”

“Oh yeah. Christ, they weren’t kidding about the bad dye job, were they... but wait, aren’t you dead?”

“Sure. So are you.”

In the seconds that followed, Gerard realized that his words had probably been a fair bit more blunt than necessary, and he half-expected the man to start freaking out about being so straightforwardly informed that he was almost certainly no longer among the living, but instead the man just shook his head and shot Gerard a strange smile.

“Suppose you’ve got me there.” The man snorted in a way that was clearly meant to convey humor and just as clearly was entirely devoid of any before adding, “I had a lot of ideas about what death would be like... wasn’t banking on it being quite like this.”

“That makes two of us.”

“No insider scoop on the whole afterlife front, then? Haven’t you been dead for years already?”

Gerard considered his response for a long moment, trying to decide how much he was willing to share with this stranger before deciding that, hell, he was already dead (twice over, even), so what did he have left to lose? “Yeah, and I spent most of that being stuck in a bloody book. This?” Gerard made a broad, sweeping hand gesture that encompassed himself, the stranger, and the collapsed building next to them. “This is new.”

“Damn. No use having a ghost buddy without getting some handy intel out of the deal.”

Gerard shook his head and let out a soft sigh. “Look, I’m not your ghost buddy, I don’t even know your name!”

“Oh, of course, where are my manners? Lost them with everything else, I suppose... Tim Stoker here.”

Tim extended a hand, which Gerard eyed warily. If the name was supposed to mean something to him... well, it didn’t, but Tim also didn’t seem to be keen on explaining himself any further, giving up who he was beyond a meaningless name, elaborating about why he was hanging around dead at the scene of the attempted Unknowing with knowledge enough to recognize Gerard’s appearance at a glance.

He seemed nice enough, though, and Gerard was curious as to whether his inability to contact others, as demonstrated when he’d tried to help the woman with the hijab, would still apply to somebody else stuck in the same state of being as himself.

After a bit of hesitation, Gerard reached out and reciprocated Tim’s gesture, engaging him in a brief but firm handshake. There was no warmth in Tim’s grip, no residual body heat seeping out at the point of contact, but there was strength in it, and Gerard could feel a slight roughness to the other man’s fingers.

“Now, this might sound awkward-”

“’m sure I’ve heard worse.” Tim muttered in a voice just low enough that Gerard wasn’t sure if it was meant for his ears.

“-but you seem awfully chipper for someone who just died.”

The thin smile on Tim’s face that Gerard had suspected wasn’t entirely genuine faded away entirely, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “Yeah, well... it was cancer that got you, right?”

Gerard nodded silently, unsure where Tim was going with this. It was surreal, to just quietly nod as a stranger casually and correctly references your cause of death, but then, this was a surreal conversation to begin with.

“But you must not have known for long, ‘cause you were traipsing all around the world before that... maybe... maybe it’s different when you see it coming. When you know it’ll happen, and you’re ready for it.”

As Gerard processed the implications there, he nodded again, trying to make the gesture more somber than before.

“Reminds me, how’d you even get here, anyway? Didn’t you die in America?”

Gerard shrugged. “Beats me. I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.”

“Great Yarmouth. That-” Tim pointed to the pile of rubble. “-used to be a creepy old wax museum. Current state’s an improvement, if you ask me.”

Gerard let out a short laugh, though he wasn’t entirely sure that the comment was solely meant as a joke. “Good to know.”

Tim shot Gerard a weak smile as he added, “Suppose I’m a bit biased, though, given that I’m the one who blew the place up.”

“You-?” Gerard looked back at what had apparently once been a wax museum and was now well and truly exploded. “I- I thought Jon did that?”

“Oh hell no. He and the others helped, sure, but I held the detonator, I made the call, I get the credit here.”

Tim was still smiling as he said this, smiling as he admitted to blowing a building up--and, given his current state, doing so almost certainly while he was still inside of it. Maybe he thought that joking about it would stop Gerard from examining his words too closely, from realizing what he was really confessing to, but Gerard caught it all.

Before Gerard could think of a proper response to that, though, Tim kept on speaking.

“How d’you even know Jon? Is there some spooky monster groupchat I should know about or something?”

Gerard sighed and pressed one hand to his temple. “First off, not a monster, thanks.”

Tim made a show of looking Gerard up and down before saying “Sure.” with what must have been all the sarcastic uncertainty he could muster at a moment’s notice.

“Look, whatever else has happened along the way, I think we’re on an even platform now, so unless you meant to call yourself a monster-”

Tim’s gaze went from focusing on Gerard to on Tim’s own hands, and a bit of that thin smile slipped away. “Shit. Okay. Let’s- let’s table that bit for now, then, yeah?”

“Sure.” Gerard tried to force his frustration and suspicion into his pronouncement of the word, but most of it didn’t manage to stick. “Second, he tore my page out of the book back in America; I told him what I knew about the Unknowing. Given... everything...” Gerard gestured vaguely to their surroundings once more. “I’m guessing he used my info to help stop it, and my page got destroyed in the process.”

“Right, yeah, that makes sense, because nobody tells me fucking anything around here-” Tim tried to kick a piece of rubble away, but couldn’t make contact, his leg instead arcing up into the air uninhibited before he began to pace. “Didn’t tell me about the circus, didn’t tell me about meeting Gerard Keay, what else is that bastard hiding from me?”

The question was probably meant to be rhetorical, but Gerard couldn’t help but respond just the same, if only because he wanted to see the reaction on Tim’s face if his guess was right. “Did he tell you about the Hunters?”

“...what hunters?”

“He was with two Hunters back in America, that’s how he got my page in the first place-”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Tim looked exactly as outraged as Gerard had imagined he would, and Gerard couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sight of it.

“That funny to you, is it?”

Gerard calmed his laughter, but he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. “Kind of, yeah. I mean, I dunno how you even knew Jon, but the two of us got on well enough...”

“He was my asshole boss. Told him as much a few minutes ago, actually.” Tim paused for a moment before raising one finger in the air and amending, “Asshole ex-boss. Like hell I’m doing any work for him now.”

“Oh, so you were an archival assistant... Gertrude’s assistants didn’t last long either, from what I heard-”

“That’s not what this is.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“This isn’t some cycle, some magic bullshit, something that was bound to happen no matter what--I made a choice. And nobody forced my hand in it, either. Hell, Elias didn’t even want me there, but fuck him-”

“Or don’t.”

Tim clearly wasn’t expecting Gerard to interrupt him, because he stopped mid-rant, looking over at Gerard with a strange look on his face.

“Have you seen that man? That would not be a good time! And he’d probably have that smug little smirk on his face the entire time, too.”

Tim hesitated for a moment before bursting out into loud, raucous laughter and pressing a hand against his eyes (which probably didn’t actually impair his vision much, given that Gerard could see Tim’s eyes almost as clearly as before). “Oh, I like you.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up.”

Gerard rolled his eyes theatrically, fighting the urge to respond with a “Make me” and see how far Tim would actually go in trying. Instead, Gerard settled on a response that changed the topic of conversation less confrontationally.

“Actually, you having been an archival assistant fits one of my theories for, well, how we can talk in the first place. Working in the Institute’s archives makes you Eye-touched, and as for me...” Gerard looked down, pointedly, at one of his knuckles, at one of the many eye tattoos scattered across his body. “I’m right there with you. It’s fitting, too, as an afterlife for those connected to the Eye--being here but unable to interact with the living world, only getting to watch...”

Tim’s eyes turned from fire to cold steel in an instant.

“No. No, that can’t be right. Those bastards already ruined my life, they can’t have taken the afterlife from me too, taken...” Tim’s speech trailed off abruptly, but as his form started shaking and the slightest hint of tears started welling up in his eyes, he forced out another bitter “No.”

“It’s just one idea, but it’d explain why it’s just us here--I’m sure we’re not the first ones to die in Great Yarmouth, after all. Unless... you know the old trope about ghosts having unfinished business on earth, I’ve got loads of my own that’d probably qualify...”

Tim shook his head emphatically. “No, no, that’s not it, either. That-”  He pointed at the pile of rubble that was only a few short minutes ago the site of an attempted world-changing ritual. “That was my unfinished business right there, and it’s sure as hell finished now, isn’t it?”

Gerard looked over at the rubble, though it wasn’t terribly changed from before; an ambulance had made it to the scene, and a first responder was helping that woman with the hijab that Gerard had seen earlier, but what remained of the building itself was more or less untouched. “Looks like, yeah.”

Tim snorted with mild amusement.

“Only other thing I can think of is it’s something to do with the Unknowing itself-”

The fire returned to Tim’s eyes, but what it burned with now was not laughter.

“A parting gift from the circus?”

“Maybe. Dunno. All I’ve got is a bunch of theories with no way to test them.”

“Actually, I’ve got an idea about that bit.”

“Oh?”

“There was a... a colleague of mine-” The way Tim said “colleague” left Gerard very certain that there was another, more fitting term he could be using in its place, that his connection to this “colleague” went deeper than a shared workplace, though he didn’t have a clue as to the details. “-we worked in the archives together, but she died in the Institute about a year ago.”

Gerard let out a low whistle. “Jon really is following in Gertrude’s footsteps there, huh?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Maybe if you take me on a couple dates first.”

Tim ran his hand across his eyes again and down his face, then elbowed Gerard in the ribs for that one; it ached a little, but he supposed he deserved it.

“So we can go try and find her, since she’d be--how’d you phrase it? ‘Eye-touched?’” Tim made air quotes around the word, and for some reason that brought a smile to Gerard’s face. “Same as us.”

“That... yeah, that’d probably work, actually.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

Gerard rolled his eyes again. “So we’re heading to London, then?”

Gerard’s memories of London were decidedly... mixed. He’d lived there with his mother, though they’d done more than their fair share of traveling along the way, and that was still what came to mind first when he thought of the city, though Gertrude and the Magnus Institute were different at least, if not necessarily much better. But he wasn’t going to object to the only thing they had that vaguely resembled a plan just because he didn’t much care for London as a city.

“Suppose so. Do you know the way there?”

Gerard blinked a few times in confusion. “I figured you would, I was just in America, and didn’t you just come from London?”

“Well, we stopped at a bed and breakfast for the night first. And I wasn’t the one driving.”

Gerard let out a long, somewhat exaggerated sigh. “So the plan is a road trip from here to London, but with no car and no directions. This sounds like a great plan.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

The look on Tim’s face was priceless.

“Hey, Gerard-”

“Gerry.”

And that priceless look was gone in a moment’s time, replaced with one of blank befuddlement.

“What?”

Gerard scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Gerard was what my mum called me. I always-” He let out a soft laugh, one born more of embarrassment and awkwardness than actual amusement, as he remembered telling Jon this same thing--except that with Jon he’d said that he wanted his friends to call him Gerry, while his feelings for Tim were... well, he was going to phrase things slightly differently this time, at any rate. “I always wanted someone special to call me Gerry.”

“A-alright then. Gerry. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” Tim’s words were harsh, but the tone was playful rather than biting, and Tim chewed on his lip absentmindedly for a moment before continuing. “If it’s just you and me here in whatever afterlife this is, at least until we find someone else... well, honestly, you wouldn’t be my first choice of people to be stuck with, not gonna lie. But you’re not on the bottom of the list, either.”

Gerard wasn’t sure who would be at the top of his list for such a thing, but he knew who would be at the very bottom of the list for him, and it definitely wasn’t one Tim Stoker. “Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

“So. To London?”

Gerry reached out with one hand, brushing against one of Tim’s, and if he had a heartbeat still it would have sped up when Tim’s hand took hold of his own, his grip loose but firm.

“To London. Provided you have at least some idea how to get there. Cardinal directions, maybe?”

Tim stared off into nothingness for a moment as he thought. “Southwest, I think?”

“Christ, we’re doomed.”

“Fuck off.”

They both burst out laughing, their grip on one another’s hands unyielding, as they prepared to make what was sure to be a long and winding journey together.

#gerard keay #gerry keay #tma #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

[aion-rsa]

WandaVision: The Unanswered Questions From the Marvel Series

https://ift.tt/38r7iqE

This article contains WandaVision spoilers.

After two months and nine episodes, WandaVision came to a close. One of the more unique projects to come out of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the show mixed mystery and horror with sitcom pastiche and understandings of grief under the superhero umbrella. The first step in both Phase 4 and Disney+’s Marvel lineup came out a success and built towards future projects.

Then again, its mysterious nature worked against it at times. Figuring out answers on a weekly basis meant trying to stay one step ahead of the show and sometimes it got viewers going in the wrong direction. There was no Mephisto or X-Men or Fantastic Four. On one hand, you can say that people are getting angry about stuff that they were never promised, but there is a feeling that when combing over the details of the show, they did cause us to ask some questions that never quite had a satisfying answer.

After all, even Agnes’ joke story about being out of town due to her mother-in-law visiting proved to be an important detail down the line.

As we sit back and wait for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness to pick up where our power couple left off, here are some lingering questions we’re left with from WandaVision.

What happened to the beekeeper?

The beekeeper was the first truly haunting moment of the series. Sure, “Stop it!” and the exploding radio were creepy in their own ways, but the idea of Wanda and Vision walking outside at night to find a lone beekeeper sneaking out of the sewer and quietly looking at them was outright nightmare fuel. It was a major instance of wondering what in God’s name was going on, and that’s even before Wanda simply noped out, hit rewind, and retconned the scene from happening.

We later discover that the beekeeper is SWORD Agent Franklin and his appearance is just Wanda’s reality making sense of a man in a hazmat suit. We see him crawling out of the sewer from his point of view, but then…nothing.

While the reveal of his identity doesn’t lead us to AIM henchmen or Swarm (star of Broadway’s Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark), it does explain the nature of Wanda’s neighborhood. That still makes it weird that we never hear from him again.

Or do we? While it’s never made explicit on the show itself, supposedly the guy playing the ice cream man in the episode 5 intro is the same actor as Agent Franklin. Perhaps the beekeeper didn’t die, but was just assimilated into a happier role.

Who was in Witness Protection?

FBI Agent James Woo gets the story rolling by coming to Westview in search of someone in witness protection. The complete lack of anyone having any information or even memory of this person is what gets SWORD involved and Monica Rambeau sucked into Westview. In the end, the identity is just not important.

But it feels like it should be, right? Having Woo go from coast to coast to follow up on this person seems pretty major. You would think it would have come up here or there, but nope. If anything, I guess it just goes to show that Jimmy Woo is a true professional for keeping his trap shut.

Who is the aerospace engineer?

I can understand that throwing Evan Peters’ Quicksilver at us was a good way to distract us from everything Agnes was doing, but the aerospace engineer? Come on! That was definitely more deliberate than the witness protection and they know it.

Monica brings up a friend who is smart enough to get her to break into the Hex all over again. All that’s missing is a smile and wink to the camera. The writers gave us something so blatant that it would be ridiculous NOT to speculate who she was talking about. This had to be an important cameo leading to something major down the line. Would we get Reed Richards? Blue Marvel? Beast? Dr. Nemesis? NFL Superpro?

Even when Monica’s dream vehicle didn’t do the job, it was still believed that this aerospace engineer would still get a dramatic shout-out down the line or a post-credits scene. Nope. At most, this throwaway friend is like that scene in Thor when Erik Selvig was talking up his gamma scientist friend who went missing because of SHIELD.

What did the commercials really mean?

It isn’t hard to figure out that the commercials were based on Wanda’s trauma: the bomb that killed her parents, her time with Hydra, the events of Captain America: Civil War, and her inability to deal with her grief in a meaningful way that didn’t involve torturing and enslaving innocent people. While it isn’t really important to see how the sausage is made, I’m left wondering what the commercials actually were.

From the fourth episode, we do know that the commercials were part of the transmissions. Darcy was able to see the one for the watch, but was focused on something else. Otherwise, I’m sure she would have been wondering about the inclusion of the HYDRA logo. The way everyone in the SWORD collaboration just glossed over the commercials is rather weird.

One of the popular theories was that the man and woman featured in all the live-action commercials were going to be revealed as Wanda and Pietro’s parents. That turned out not to be true, so…were they also Westview citizens? That would be disturbing because to make sense of the commercial narratives and the sitcom narratives, that family would have to be forcefully separated from the rest of the town.

Did Agatha magic up the stop-motion commercial for Yo-Magic? Because that was about her too much to be something Wanda’s psyche came up with.

Is there more to “Fake Pietro” Ralph Bohner?

“Fietro” was the big red herring of the series. After all that wondering of whether he was the first true step in bringing mutants into the MCU or if he was literal Satan in disguise, we discovered he was Agnes’ hypnotized “husband” whose payoff was nothing more than a dick joke.

Then again, he was already called Peter in the Fox universe, so it’s not such a hard stretch to make him a Bohner.

Read more

TV

Will The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Become a Victim of WandaVision’s Success?

By Kirsten Howard

Movies

A Tale of Two Pietros: Explaining the MCU X-Men Problem With a Mutant Speedster

By Gavin Jasper

Monica’s ability to see energy in its various forms allowed her to figure out that Agatha was controlling Ralph with a mystical necklace. Once she tore it off, Ralph immediately gave up and that was the last we saw of him. But what does that mean in terms of his powers?

I imagine Agatha gave him the speed powers so he could play the part of Pietro in order to get intel on Wanda’s magic. Just because she no longer controls him, does that mean he’s physically back to normal as well? Because, hey, he might not be the Quicksilver from the X-Men universe, but he could totally play the role of Quicksilver if Marvel ends up doing a cinematic version of the Thunderbolts or Dark Avengers.

Where did White Vision go?

Vision’s Soul fought Vision’s Body and after we got enough lasers and explosions, the two talked out their differences. Hex Vision convinced his pasty counterpart to stand down and did him the favor of unlocking his dormant memories (that he asked permission was such a nice touch). White Vision recalled everything from the moment of his creation to Thanos pulling out the Mind Stone. Accepting who he is, White Vision flew off and was never referenced again.

I supposed the real question to ask is when will we see him next? Obviously, he has a lot to think about. He’s an emotional husk with lots of data to work through. Does he love Wanda in this form? Can he still love Wanda in this form, knowing what she’s become? As someone who was pro-government oversight, how will it affect him knowing that the government outright betrayed his wishes and memory? Where does someone like White Vision go from here?

Maybe we’ll see him in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. Perhaps, when a new Avengers movie finally happens, Vision will show himself again. Or if they go in the direction of Young Avengers, he could be the wise father to the sons he’s never met.

It would be pretty wild if White Vision relearned how to convey emotions by watching Simon Williams movies.

What are the twins, exactly?

“FOR THE CHILDREN!” is what the neighbors echoed like a brainwashed cult, culminating in Wanda’s very unusual pregnancy. It could have been Wanda’s subconscious telling her to have kids. It could have been Agatha testing out her ability to create life from nothing. It also may have been the children themselves.

We never did fully get a grasp on what Billy and Tommy were. Wanda had a very unnatural birth and, outside of being able to age themselves a couple times, the boys seemed fairly down to earth and good-natured, while also still capable of questioning Wanda’s reality. There was nothing ominous about them outside of the weird nature of their very existence.

When Wanda relaxed the Hex, they started to disappear. When she ended the Hex completely, they once again vanished. Simply saying that they were two kids Wanda conjured up out of thin air would have been an acceptable answer.

Read more

TV

WandaVision: What Wanda’s Kids Mean for the Future of the Marvel Cinematic Universe

By Gavin Jasper

TV

Will The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Become a Victim of WandaVision’s Success?

By Kirsten Howard

Instead, when Wanda fully accepted what her reality was and that it had to end, she thanked her children for “choosing” her to be their mother. She was able to explain what Vision was in the grand scheme of things, but she remained silent when it came to those kids. They were an outside force that sought her out. That’s what her final conversation certainly implies.

The post-credits scene had her studying the Darkhold while being alerted to Billy and Tommy screaming for help. They still exist, in some form, somewhere. Their true nature probably won’t be better explained until the Doctor Strange sequel.

Speculation on this one is a pain in the ass because even the comics explanation is a whirlwind of confusion.

What really happened to Agatha Harkness?

Wanda doesn’t kill Agatha, but does punish her by forcing her to be stuck in the living Hell of portraying Agnes the nosey neighbor. It’s a harsh punishment, but her intent doesn’t jibe with Agatha’s post-Hex status. People know about her. Even if the last few in-universe episodes of WandaVision weren’t on the SWORD airwaves, she was still playing the role of final boss and having magic fights in the sky. The people of Westview saw that.

Wouldn’t this mean that she can’t just go back to her “nosy neighbor” role and that she’s likely destined for a cell? She’ll be lucky if the government isn’t doing experiments on her, which is extra messed up when you imagine her acting like Ned Flanders.

At least she’ll be kept subdued for when the Scarlet Witch needs her. Or maybe she too will join whatever Thunderbolts/Dark Avengers team we may see down the line.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Just give us more Kathryn Hahn, damn it!

The post WandaVision: The Unanswered Questions From the Marvel Series appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2OFQ8yB

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[randaccidents]

Under Arrest

Yeye another fic! This has been waiting as long as Good Night has, and I finally got it out! It’s kinda messy but I think I like it like that :3

Set directly after Good Night.

Song used! Cause I gotta remember to link the song!

Shadow People AU by the gentle @mine-sara-sp

TW: nightmare mention, Demise mention

but this fic is very much light and funny!

Someone is under arrest for not resting crimes

---------

knockknockTHUNKknockknockknockTHUNKTHUNKkno-

"Geez! Who's makin' that racket! I'm tryin to sleep 'ere!"

Bdubs was quickly shushed by his friends around him, eyes flickering over to check on Wels. Chagrined, Bdubs quickly quieted down. “Could someone at least get whoever it is to stop?” he stage-whispered.

“That might be a problem Bubbles.”

Several sets of eyes followed the direction that Keralis was pointing in, cringing backwards slightly when they realised who the problem was. More accurately, two someones.

knockTHUNKTHUNKknockknockknockTHU-

“I’m not dealing with that man, I may fear no hermit, but those things scare me.” The cyborg- creeper shuddered lightly. “Theys unnatural.”

The ensuing soft scuffle was interrupted when Cub stood up with a sigh, Brushing himself down, the hermit carefully maneuvered his way over to the window, avoiding sprawled out arms and legs. Reaching the window, he inspected it, quickly finding that the central section could swing outwards. The knockers had withdrawn their hands, waiting impatiently for Cub to open the window.

Taking a deep breath, he unhooked the latch, quickly shoving the upper half of his body out the window to the surprised shouts of his friends. Crossing his arms in an attempt to look less afraid then he felt, Cub addressed the impatiently bouncing duo outside. "Can’t you two be quieter?"

“W̏ͭ̒a̘͉̅ͣ̚n̗̱̑͛͊ț̲̝̮͔̎ͬ ̇̈́̃́̈ͤW͈̹͙̟͙͈e̼̳͕̜̼̱͓l̜͕s͉̙̞̮͍̦͍̉̃̓̈́!̩̱͚͇̏” “W͎̼̯̮̺̞̬h̖͈͔̪͆̅ͭ͒̈́̊ệ̯͚̫͕ͮ͐r̮̘͊e͎̳̙̲̘̘͌̀̍͗?͖̣̼̠̱͎̻”

Cub flapped his hands at them gently, shushing them. “He’s sleeping. He had a rough night, so if you want to be let in, quiet down, got it?”

The two shadows tilted their heads gently, mirrored yet opposite in direction, bumping their heads together in the process. “Ṟ̙ö̬̩̜̭̭́ͭ̾ͅu͙̠̤̅̏ͧg̑̋ḧ̖̙̝ͫ ͓̟̓̎̌n͆i̒̂g̈̈h͔̭̜͊̅͗ͅt̠̩?͐̑ͧ” “K͊͊͊nͬ̾i̼̥̝͍̼̜̎̆ͮ̃ġ̥̻͈̹h̬̼̦̻͙̓ͧ̎t̍ ͓̙̣͇̺̪̣̚tͥi͎̿r͙e̙͖̝d̒?͛”

“Yes, and if you keep up your noise he’s going to wake up and feel bad.” Cub hissed at them. “Whatever you want can wait this one time, can’t it?”

The two seemed to consider, twittering lightly at each other, before turning to face him in sync, giving him a singular clear chirp. Cub shuddered, he will never understand how Wels figured out how to deal with them calmly. Bracing his arms against the window frame in preparation to head back inside, a sudden realisation hit him. “And no murder. Everyone will scream, our communicators will make noise, he’s gonna wake up. Got it?”

The shadows whined pitifully at him, but nodded their heads at his stern glare. Satisfied, Cub finally popped himself back inside, turning to face everyone who was awake. “Guys, don’t panic.” he hurriedly said.

And just in time too, as the vexdows materialised into the room. Predictably, there was the general noise of panic and fear, although uncharacteristically hushed. Avarice and Keloid didn’t quite seem to care, speedily pinpointing where Wels lay and leaping over hermits to loom over Biffa and Jevin. The two were the only ones who were unafraid, if only because they were currently highly protective over Wels. “Touch him and we will end you,” Biffa hissed, Jevin nodding furiously beside him.

To their surprise, the two shadows didn’t become violent or angry, instead finding a space to sit down, keeping a gentle eye on Wels. “Uh.”

The vexed shadows mutely hissed at them. “S̺̗l̫̬̫̻̮̻͚̒ͭ̽̑ē̳̭̺͒͛͒̉̚e̲͕̯̓ͦ̆͗͂p͖̮̱̖͙̀î̞͖͂͆̅̾͂n͇ͨ̏͑g̤̜̋ͤ̆!̝̫̟̪̊̎̊͗ͧ̊” Avarice whisper-shouted, Keloid nodding rapidly beside them.

Biffa and Jevin gawked at them, sharing a look. This was… new. Normally, the vexed shadows were a lot more aggressive. They looked down at their still sleeping friend, tear tracks dried on his face. What had Wels done to make them so tame?

Jevin nudged Biffa lightly. “Might as well get some more sleep, yeah?” he whispered.

Biffa side-eyed the shadows cautiously. “You get some more sleep. I don’t quite trust them.” he whispered back.

Jevin shrugged, gently easing himself back into the mess of blankets and pillows, jostling Wels slightly. The knight grumbled in his sleep, turning to latch onto Jevin’s hoodie and snuggle into it. Smiling softly, Jevin gently put his arms around Wels before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Biffa smiled down at his two friends being cute, before a noise caused his head to snap back to the vexed shadows sat opposite. He pointed two fingers at his head before turning them sharply to point at the two shadows. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

Keloid perked up, shoving three of their arms into some of Avarice’s tiny faces before pointing them at Biffa. “Eͣẙ͗̉e͗ͧ ̠͈̲̣͐̀̒o̲̙̮̎n̍ ̔̐͛y͌o̼̟̟̓̉u̻͍!̀̽̑” they giggled, Avarice quickly shoving a large hand into their face to muffle their over-excited laughter.

Biffa blinked. On one hand, that was adorable, in the way that toddlers were. On the other hand, the way they said that was very disturbing. Casting his gaze around the room, he saw that while the hermits had found their own clusters to chat amongst, at least one person in each group was looking over their shoulder, monitoring the shadows who were now playing with each others’ hands. Sighing, he leaned against the wall, resigned to watching Avarice and Keloid.

-----------------

Wels woke slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Dimly, he realised that he hadn’t woken from a nightmare this time, and silently gave thanks. He smooshed his face further into the fabric before him, too comfortable to really move.

“Hey, Wels, you awake?” A hand placed itself on his shoulder, tilting his body slightly. He brushed it aside, turning back into the warm darkness. Muffled laughter issued from above him. “Yep, he’s awake alright.”

Another hand touched his arm as the fabric surface he was cuddled against pulled away, shaking him lightly. “Come on Wels, wake up. It's almost midday and you have visitors.” said another voice.

Wels sighed internally. Guess he did have to get up. Releasing the comfortable fabric, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms above his head. “What is it, what is it,” he grumbled, eyes still refusing to open. He could hear Jevin giggle next to him. “Uh, might wanna open your eyes Wels.”

Grumbling, he opened his eyes. And blinked. "Who let them in here? They're going to steal all the diamonds." He whispered, pointing at the two shadows who were still obliviously toying with their hands.

Cub raised his hand. "I did, and don't worry, we've been keeping an eye on them this whole time, no way they stole any diamonds."

Wels dragged a hand down his face, quickly blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Oh you guys have no clue," he muttered. Turning, he called out to the shadows. "Keloid! Avarice!"

Their heads snapped upwards lightning fast, wide unnatural grins only growing upon seeing the knight awake. "Wͧ̍ͫ͑e̒l̎ͤs!̒̒” “̞̭̲͚̩́̈́̒ͯͨẄ́ḛ̗̭̞̫̄l̾ͩsͦ!̞̅͒” “̭̗͉͔̻̤̰̋̅ͪͦW̖̰̤̊̿ͥe̍́l̗̱͈̫̑̔sͤ!ͣͣ” “̝̦̣̓͗ͧ̉Wͭë̘̹̒͆̿̒ls̽ͭ!̆ͬͤ" they crowed, bouncing on the spot, clearly wanting to crowd around Wels but limited by the lack of space around them.

Wels made a motion like pushing down air with one hand, laughing at their antics. "Calm down, calm down, I'm awake. Thank you for waiting until I woke up this time." The shadows beamed at the praise. Wels quickly moved on before they could get too rowdy. "Now before we get to why you're here…" His gaze sharpened as he glared at the vexed shadows. "Give the diamonds back. I know you have them."

Avarice leaned back slightly, face the picture of innocence. Behind it, Keloid averted their eyes, whistling a bird's tune.  "Ẇ͗h͔͚͆̂a͕͙̟̫ͩ̈́t͇̣̟̠̺ ̄ͥs̭̾̽ͫ͑h͚͍̠͉̱̰̣i̓͂̿ṉ̰ͦí̟̬̞̼͎̊̌̑e̼̮̜̗̖̱ͧ̃s͙̪̭̪̞?̂ͣ"

Wels narrowed his eyes at them, unconvinced by their act. "Stop stalling, you know what you've done. You two are never able to sit still unless you have diamonds. Give it back to them."

The shadows whined, but quickly crumbled under Wels' glare. Keloid reached behind it's back and pulled out 10 diamonds, gently placing them on one of Avarice's floating blue hands. The hand floated across the room, stopping to dump the diamonds into a confused Ren's lap before floating back. "Wait a minute…" Ren leaned back, shuffling through his pockets and finding them empty. He whirled back around to point at the smug looking vex shadows, incredulous. "How did you guys do that? Doc is the most observant man I know!"

Wels smirked knowingly. "They have their ways." The shadows cackled proudly at those words, adding an ominous layer to his words. Wels turned back to face Avarice and Keloid, missing how his friends cringed at their laughter. "On to business. Why are you two here? Paladin hasn't died again right?"

The two shook their heads, their bodies moving along with it. There was some mild commotion as the hermits nearest the vexed shadows took cover from flailing arms and wings that he ignored. “C̩̯̩aͥ̋m̼͙̬̰è̑̏ f̆̆ỏ͈̘͕̣̮͖̾̌̌r̻̻̗̐ ̬̫̖́͊ͯͅyͩ̋o͔̙̰ͅu̗͔̼̼͈͈̼̽!̯̖̮͓̺͓̙ͥ”

Wels raised an eyebrow, unconcerned by the disturbing phrasing of the sentence. “That’s new. Why?”

Keloid’s face conveyed the emotion of concern better than Avarice’s many laughing faces. “S̘̠͖̭̻̎̾͋ḧ́̐iͨ̏̚ny ̃ͣ̌n̰͖͚̣͂ͧ͂o̾̑t͇̯̙̠͖͕̎ͩ̆ ̑ȓ͛̊̚ͅe̔ͧ́̍ș̖͑̉tͯ̅!̊́͌ ͍̻̰̥̳̬ͦN̻e͓͌̿ͮe̍͋d̜͚͎̰̦̠͕́͊ ̀̇̚yo͋̒u̟̹̬̖̭͚̾̽ ̓͒h̟̏͛ͅeͮͮ̇l̲͕̻̮͚̣̭ṗͭ!͐”

Wels frowned in thought as he pieced together the rag-tag bits of information he was given. “So Paladin isn’t taking any breaks?” he questioned, receiving twin affirming clicks in response. “And you want me to come help you deal with it?” he guessed. Another set of affirming clicks.

Guess that settles it. Pushing back against the wall, Wels pushed himself up from the comfort of the blanket nest below him. “Alright, let me just do my morning stuff and suit up before we go.” he said, moving to step over his friends.

A pair of hands latched onto his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Instantly, the shadows began hissing aggressively, drawing the clatter of weapons being drawn. Wels sighed. He held his hand up high in a universal stop gesture, pitching his voice above the noise. “Calm down! The lot of you! Act more mature!”

All sound in the room froze, shocked by Wels' sudden outburst. Wels didn't just get angry and shout, Wels was calm and collected. The hands on his arm increased in pressure and weight for a moment, nothing he couldn't handle, and then he had two hermits hanging off of his shoulders. He tilted his head gently in acknowledgement, smiling softly. "Morning Biffa, morning Jevin, whaddya want?"

Biffa pulled himself up into a more upright position, leaning down to whisper into Wels’ ear. “Are you sure you’ll be safe going alone with them? You know they’re dangerous.” On his other shoulder, Jevin nodded in agreement, head bouncing up and down. Wels smiled softly at their concern. “Guys, I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first time and it won’t be the last. At least they asked this time instead of spiriting me away.”

“But you haven’t been sleeping lately. You’re still tired, I can feel it.”

Wels winced at the implications behind Jevin’s words, hurriedly covering it up under a confident tone. “I’ll be fine, I trust them not to harm me, they’ve come so far. Do you trust me?"

He could feel his friends flinch at his implied accusation, guilt slithering down his spine. It was a low blow, but he also knew they were all on a time limit that was as long as the Avarice and Keloid felt like, and he had probably wasted so much of it sleeping. He had to get moving now.

Thankfully, with only a quick side glance, Biffa and Jevin let him go with a nod. Shooting them a glance in thanks, he headed for the bathroom with quick steps. Stopping just inside the doorframe, he leaned out to shout, "And no murder of any kind! Anyone tries something and all of you are out of my house, with me still in it! Are we clear?"

"Yes dad!" came a clear British voice over the general chatter of agreement and twittering chirps, followed swiftly by another, gruffer voice shouting “Ok, Boomer!” Wels whipped back around. "Who said that? I just want to talk to you young man." he said in a mock-threatening voice, eliciting laughter from the crowd. He spied Mumbo, the mustached man grinning proudly, hi-fiving an equally overjoyed TFC in the back. Shaking his head in mock disappointment, Wels left the room, muttering about ‘kids these days’ and ‘no respect for their elders’, to the hooting laughter of the hermits.

Door now closed firmly behind him, Wels quickly unlatched the leather bracers from his arms, rubbing his arms. He might be used to wearing armour everywhere, but having them on 24/7 made him long for the softness of a shirt again. Absentmindedly tracing the edges of his scars, he made quick work of his armour, making sure that the chainmail undershirt covered his neck fully. Tugging lightly to ensure that everything was a snug fit, Wels pushed the door open again.

And had to duck to avoid the dirt block thrown in his direction. Offended howls and raucous laughter greeted him as he slipped back into the room. Somehow, no one had noticed his return.

And honestly, that was a blessing in disguise. Observing how the hermits had now clustered around where Avarice and Keloid had been sitting, he wondered what they could be doing as he tiptoed his way to one of the tables that had been pushed aside. Grabbing the pack he had stored inside, he scrambled up onto the table, trying to see what his friends were up to this time.

He observed his friends throwing items to each other, tools, dirt, stone, diamonds, wood all flying through the air. Diamonds were held up like bait before being thrown across the circle, the vexed shadows in the middle having no space to manoeuvre, grey-blue hands instead reaching up to grasp at the items flying by, flailing in an uncoordinated attempt. A piece of wood was snapped up between Keloid’s elbows, observed, then thrown out of the circle with a howl and a burst of laughter from the hermits. Avarice’s large hands grabbed a chunk of items from the sky. The hand floated down and opened, revealing two diamonds amidst a pile of stone and other items. They crowed in victory, quickly pocketing their winnings. From the corner of his eye, Wels saw TFC and Scar pulling out some diamonds to replenish the pool alongside more random blocks.

Sitting down cross-legged on the table, Wels rested his head on one hand and watched the group play, a small smile playing across his lips. It was rare to see this kind of sight, everyone else was always so afraid of Avarice and Keloid, which was a pity. Months of being kidnapped to resummon Paladin or for some other obscure reason had removed the fear of their unnatural looks and actions, revealing a childlike wonder beneath. Hopefully this small bubble of fun they were all having would soften the hermits to the vexed shadows.

He didn’t know how long he sat on that table, watching his friends both player and shadow play. Keralis had glanced back and seen him at some point, but instead of telling anyone he had winked at him before turning back around to throw all three of his held diamonds.

Eventually, he was caught. Keralis had glanced back at him one too many times, alerting the rest to his presence. Predictably, there was some uproar.

“How long have you been sitting there!” “Do you know how many diamonds I lost?” “We thought you would never come out of the bathroom princess!”

Cheeky grin in place, he slid off the table. “How could I resist? You guys were having so much fun I couldn’t bear to stop it. Besides,” he added, walking through the circle and standing before Avarice, reaching out to pet their arm. “This is a much more fun way to get diamonds, don’t you think?”

The small faces on its arms lit up a brighter blue as the both of them whistled in agreement, Keloid taking out the diamonds they had gathered to show Wels in excitement. “L͌̿o̠͑̈́o̓̎k̰̏̐̇!͉̱̼̽ͨ̋ L͌̿o̠͑̈́o̓̎k̰̏̐̇!͉̱̼̽ͨ̋”Keloid chirped, somehow managing to bounce despite sitting down, holding out a whole fifteen diamonds to him. Wels laughed at their pure happiness. “Yes, good job you two.”

Preening in pride, Keloid returned the diamonds to its inventory. Avarice looked out the window, then beeped in alarm. “T͒͑iͪ̎m̂̓e̘!̥̪͈̬͉͎̻ͫͤ ͭͤ͒N͊eͯ̿̄̋e̱͚̤̣ͩd̓ ̝̯̻̙̜g̏ͣ̈́ó̺̼̄ ͎̜ͨ̎ñó̓͐w̼͍̼̦̹͑͊̆!ͦͬ͆” they stressed, grabbing Wels roughly by the arm.

Wels grunted, tapping Avarice’s hand. They twittered a quick apology, relaxing its grip but keeping its hand wrapped firmly around his arm as it walked towards the window, Keloid fluttering above.

Wels turned slightly to face his concerned friends, raising an arm to wave. “Guess I’m off! Don’t worry too much about me guys, this is mostly normal! Bye!”

Turning back, he crawled through the window after Avarice, coming to stand on the roof of his mansion. Avarice had released his arm, so he tilted his head at them in question. Avarice answered with a coo, clearly expecting him to understand, then sighed when he didn’t move. Reaching over, it scooped up Wels in its arms, drawing a squeak from him. Looking up, he could see Keloid latch its six arms around Avarice, wings beating lightning-fast, and then they were in the air. Twisting around in Avarice’s hold, he looked down at the house below. Spotting some multicoloured figures below waving up at him, Wels pulled an arm free to wave back down at them.

Eventually, the house fell out of view. Twisting back, Wels settled himself within Avarice’s arms, resigned to waiting out the journey to the Hoard, wherever they had moved it to this time.

----------------------------------

The jolting landing woke Wels up. Blinking up at the stone ceiling above him, he lifted his head to look around. Keloid was nowhere to be seen, Avarice still moving down the cut-out corridors deeper into the Hoard. He leaned back to look at Avarice properly. “Hey, can you put me down? I can walk.”

Avarice glanced down at him, considering, then giving him a small rattling noise as they continued down the hall. Seeing as Avarice hadn't put him down, Wels guessed that was a no. Letting his head fall back into Avarice’s arms, he let out a small huff, watching the ceiling go past.

When the ceiling shifted from stone to smooth andesite, Wels noticed. A low whistle, and Avarice was setting him down on something soft. Blinking, he looked down, discovering a nest of pillows and blankets. He pressed down on the blanket. It was… really soft, actually. Softer than his own bed. It made him want to bury his face in it and hide for a few days. Noise from the corridor drew his attention away before he could actually go through with his thoughts.

Keloid fluttered in from the hall, holding an indignant Paladin, whose feet only just brushed the floor. His shadow was shaking their arms about, yet carefully making sure not to hit Keloid. A set of gauntlets floated behind them, still holding smelting tools. “Put me down Kel! I got commissions to finish!”

Keloid shook its head as Avarice moved to support it. “Y͚̱͉̑̀̄o͓̗üͦ ̳͉͍͍ͫ̐n̆̐o̒̃ͧt̑̉ͧͅ ͔̻͇̥r͇̜̮͂̆̄̏̇̉e̼s̓͐ͨtͤ͑!̣͔̓̾͌̓”

Paladin looked up at Avarice, “You too? Come on, I’m fine! We don’t even need rest.”

Avarice twittered at them. “Ń̎o̰̳̩͆ͥͥtͥ̆ͯ s̎ͭͦp͒̂ͪḛ̬̠͎̳̟̩n͋ͨd̝̭͔̞̞ͪͪ̈́ ̈́ͤ͂ͭ̓̽tiͬ̇m͚̭͚̥̖̹̀e̞͍̲͓̩͍͙̎̿̒̔ ̽̄̄͑͐̓̅w͛ͧ̓i̼̐̄t͍̲̤̳̿ͮͣͅh̞̩̘̥͔ͥ̾ ̳̗̃u̐ͪs͓̗ͩ͑ͯ͐?̖̞̖̤̻̼́̒̈́̀̎”

Paladin looked down guiltily. Walking them forwards, Avarice gently pushed them onto the nest, shooting Wels a knowing look. Catching onto what was going on, Wels twisted his waist, leaning over to wrap his arms around Paladin, startling his shadow. They tilted their head slightly in confusion. “Wels? What are you doing here?”

The position he was in was uncomfortable. Straining backwards, Wels pulled Paladin down next to him on the nest. The shadow flailed, disoriented. “Wha- you too Wels? Come on!” they whined. Wels didn’t respond, instead burying his face into Paladin’s side. He felt the shadow tense up, then sigh, tension bleeding out of their frame. A shifting cloth came up to cradle him in a vaguely familiar manner.

A large arm draped over them, effectively trapping them both in place. Wels could feel a presence slip in behind him, draping over his side and resting its head on his shoulder. “S͒̚ī͑̈́n͌g͛?̱̌ͅ” Keloid chirped. Avarice rumbled its agreement, the vibrations rattling down its arm. He could practically feel Paladin roll their eyes, yet when they shifted to speak to him he could hear the affection in their voice. “Got any songs to humour them? I don’t really have any right now.”

Wels thought for a moment, flipping through his mental song list before coming on the perfect song. “I sing and you do the backup?” he asked, poking Paladin in the side.

“Oh you should know dear summoner,” Paladin ribbed back. Pulling back slightly with a smile, Wels cleared his throat, letting the first words out, Paladin humming along, giving his voice an echoing quality.

“Time is an illusion that helps things make sense,

so we’re always living in the present tense.

It seems unforgiving when a good thing ends.

But you and I will always be back then.

You and I will always be back then.”

He heard Avarice and Keloid shift over them, adding soft plinking noises to their song.

“Singing will happen, happening, happened.

Will happen, happening, happened.

And we will happen again and again.

'Cause you and I will always be back then.

You and I will always be back then”

-------------------------

“So, why are they dragging you here?” Wels asked, holding back a yawn. They had been singing for a few hours now, and he was getting tired. Avarice and Keloid had gone to grab some food for him, leaving him to hold down the fort. Paladin grunted, looking away. “I haven’t been hanging out with them since the incident. Just trying to catch up on my commissions, nothing special.”

Wels propped himself up onto his elbows, staring into Paladin’s face, reading the lines of pain they didn’t quite manage to hide. He sighed, slipping back into his space besides Paladin, wrapping an arm around their chest. “You don’t have to hide from us, you know. Avarice and Keloid already noticed, and you hiding it from them is only going to make them more worried.”

Paladin twisted to look at him, surprised, “How did yo-”

He pointed at his face. “I know my face when I see it. You’re like an open book to me.”

Paladin huffed and turned around fully, a blue wing curling up to box him in. “Then you are just as open to me. You’re tired. Sleep.”

Unable to hold back his yawn, Wels snuggled into Paladin’s side. “Maybe… I will…” he muttered, drifting off.

-------------

Amazingly, he didn’t wake up to a nightmare, instead finding his shadow with two attentive shadow vex at their feet, pointing out the shininess factor of each gem. He smiled. This was nice. He could get used to this.

He didn’t leave the Hoard that day, instead staying in and learning more about how the shadow vex and his shadow interacted.

--------------

The next night, he did wake from a nightmare.

He’d clung to Paladin, sobbing, face hidden against their chestplate, unwilling to look up and see that accursed blue. The three shadows had held him, he had felt their hands and arms encircle him comfortably. Someone was rocking him, petting his head, he could hear Paladin humming a song, the song they had sung a day prior.

Eventually, he tired himself out, falling back into sleep.

No one asked him about his nightmares the next day, giving him understanding glances, and for that he was grateful.

-------------

“So, when can I leave?”

“Ǹ̳̂͒oͤ͊t͋́̂ ̑ͤͮ̚n̜̲̼̊o̲̝̞̣wͦ͒͑̑!ͤ̂͐”

“ͨ͗͑͑̔͐͆T͆r̯ͭ̇͊̎ͯ̊a̬̺͗͑̌̈̅p̀͒̓s̫̖̘̱͚͒̍ ̗͖̥̺͉e͋ͯ́v̟̰͖̯͔̳ͣͅe͒ͣ͌r̃̒̽y̟̻̟w̚hͯ́͊̓eͩͣ̊ṟ͎ͫ͆͆̊̎̚e̽̓̓ͮ!̼͍̹͛”

“Oh, I think that’s just Demise. I don’t think anyone’s died yet though, are you talking about what’s going to happen. Ah, alright. Hopefully Grian got my payme-”

“Sͩͦ̊t̠̩̘͕͋̇̏̃o͑͊l̾ͦͬe̠̮̤͕͓͕ ̞͍̳̠̆̾ͩ͌s͎̘͚̿̍̈̂h̠̗ͪi̱͚̖̲n̊ͦͭiͧͫͣe͌ͭ̎s͖̯̙͍̻̝̾̚!̮͆ͫ͊͛ͦ͐̑”

“... of course you did. Guess I gotta go tell Gria-”

“N̺͍̮͑o̬̬̩̹̼̰ ̠̻̠͚̪̰̍̇̈̈̔̽l͙͖ͧ̇̄̏̐e̱̺͇̦̳̖a̠̮ͣ̂̽͆v̪̩͔̤͈̺̺̌ͣͫ̍e̠̺̝̞̮͋̿!͓̗̝̜ͧ̂”

“̹̩͈̗̿̾̏̃D́͑͐a̝n̓̎g̽̃̋̊ͮe̯ͩr̝̹͔̗ͮͫoͥ̈̋̌ũ̲s͕̜͉͈͚͔͍͆̓̃͂̚!̳͇̗̮̆̐̃ͯ”

“Woah! Put me down please.”

“̹̩͈̗̿̾̏̃D́͑͐a̝n̓̎g̽̃̋̊e̯ͩr̝̹͔̗ͮͫoͥ̈̋̌ũ̲s͕̜͉͈͚͔͍͆̓̃͂̚!̳͇̗̮̆̐̃ͯ”

“̹̩͈̗̿̾̏̃D́͑͐a̝n̓̎g̽̃̋̊e̯ͩr̝̹͔̗ͮͫoͥ̈̋̌ũ̲s͕̜͉͈͚͔͍͆̓̃͂̚!̳͇̗̮̆̐̃ͯ”

“Ok, I get it, you won’t let me out until Demise ends, won’t you? Guess I have to tell Grian that I can’t play Demise then.”

Opened Another of Grian’s messes

[Wels] hey Grian you awake?

[Grian] when am I not?

[Grian] hey wels long time no see where you been

[Jevin] the sleeping beuaty has awokened!

[Wels] that is not how you spell awoken Jevin

[Wels] and speaking of where I’ve been, I need to talk to you

[Grian] ominous, Im listening

[Wels] so the vexdows? I’m going to call them that now it’s easier

[Jevin] i spelleth things how i wanteth

[Wels] the vexdows won’t let me leave the Hoard cause they heard that traps and death are included

[Grian] wait they are protecting you? Weird

[Wels] Jevin please that hurts my eyes why would you curse this world with that

[Grian] WAIT THATS UNFAIR NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THE HOARD EVEN IS

[Wels] that’s why I’m talking to you

[Jevin] it speakerth from mine mind, all of youse shall be cursed with it owo

[Wels] could you take me off the game? I don’t think I can convince them to let me leave until the game ends

[Grian] on it

[Wels] oh also they stole your diamonds

[Jevin] pwease tawk to me I'm wonyewy

[Wels] Jevin did you sleep? you’re not you when you’re sleepy

[Grian] they stole them? Agh

[Wels] I’ll pay the winner when the game ends, no need to refund me

[Jevin] no

[Wels] go to sleep Jevin

[Jevin] no

[Wels] how dare you say no to me

[Grian] whomst'd've

[Jevin] itz on scrub

[Biffa] @Xisumavoid presidential alert: the girls are fighting

[Wels] bless you Biffa

[Xisuma] what’s going on here

[Jevin] WHO CALLED MUM

[Grian] DID YOU CALL ECKS-EYE-EASE-ONE-A-VE-OID MUM

[Biffa] I did this to call out X for not sleeping :3

[Xisuma] firstly, go to sleep, the both of you

[Xisuma] secondly, I might as well be your mother with how everyone acts

[Grain] !!!

[Jevin] but XXXXXXXXX

[Xisuma] and thirdly, how dare you Biffa

[Biffa] you gotta sleep too mum

[Xisuma] I am headed to your location. Do not move

[Biffa] what are you going to do, kill me

[Jevin] oh boy the other girls are fighting now

[Xisuma] no, worse

[Xisuma] I’m going to confiscate your tea

[Biffa] :0

[Biffa] >:0

[Biffa] >:V

[Wels] aaaaand I’m leaving

[Keralis] bye Wels, stay safe <3

[Grian] MUM KERALIS ISNT ASLEEP EITHER

Wels tucked his communicator away, giggling at his friends’ antics. Two curious chirps caught his attention, and he turned back to face the vexdows. A lightbulb went off in his head. “Could you two show me the Hoard?”

#shadow people au #I am not tagging cause I am lazy to tag everyone #cute little family bonding stuff #cause this is before they got close enough to be a big family #so they are not quite fully there yet #aight trigger tags time #nightmare #Demise #cause I know some people aren't comfortable with it #my writing

[anonthenullifier]

Listen I just finished reading An Auspice of Scarlet for the fifth time and like, damn, every time I finish it I just feel completely satisfied. I also need more I love this version of Wanda and Vision! Any chance more is coming? I know you’re on like a hiatus or something right now, but anything would be appreciated. Even just like headcanons (or is that just canon since it’s from you?) or thoughts. I’m just desperate for more.

I don’t think I know how to convey to you the sheer joy I get at knowing you’ve read it 5 times (5!) and still want more! It did drag me out of my hiatus long enough to respond, if that counts for anything. :D

There is going to be more at some point, sadly, however, given all that’s happening in life right now, my current pace of writing is the equivalent of a snail that partied too hard the night before and is now dreadfully hungover. Since you have read it five times though, I can give a brief peek at a very very rough (and 99% likely to change) beginning to the follow-up one shot I’ve been researching and outlining. The story is going to be from Vision’s perspective and focus on all of the factors that coalesce to finally convince him to break his promise to Tony and get married ( @rachelillustrates​ -  it will finally happen!). If you ever want to chat about head canons of their frontier life, you are welcome to PM me!

-Just realized I didn’t actually give you any SV or Wanda, so I added some for you.

****Dear Mr. Stark,

As I write to you, we are approaching the beginning of our third month. Due to the unexpected delays, which I have dutifully outlined in my prior letters, we are currently traversing through Iowa instead of being well into Nebraska. I worry each day what else will go wrong and how detrimental it will be to our timeline. A week ago we discovered the Lyons-Council Bluff line*, so heavily touted by the inhabitants of the prairie towns, does not actually exist yet. The stakes have been laid to mark its path, but going forward it appears as if the railroad is no longer a viable transport method. A thought that, for a time, was unfathomable. We rested for two days in Iowa City, long enough to map out a plan, purchase extra horses to haul the rail car over the rougher terrain, and I was able to find enough materials to reinforce the wheels so that we will not repeat the crisis in Indiana when the tracks uprooted. 

The line of the d juts up with a violent shake of the car, no doubt due to a rock in the ground. Vision instinctively glances down towards Wanda, whose slumber is somehow unperturbed by the latest turbulence. He does, very gently, inch her head back up his thigh and tilt her shoulder several degrees so she does not roll off the seat when this inevitably happens again. Next he looks to Helen, who shares a commiserate, exasperated head shake, Amadeus’ driving skills the least refined of the four of them, but the nonstop nature of their schedule means he still is in the rotation, even if he discovers more bumps in the road than is statistically likely to happen by chance. 

Vision returns to his letter, frowning at the assault of jagged ink on his otherwise pristine words (truthfully any writing in a moving vehicle is less than pristine, but he has become admirably skilled at it over the months). The intention is to spend one night in Council Bluffs for a reprieve from sleeping on the ground or in these seats, and also, fortuitously, a chance for him to rewrite his letter in a stationary setting. For now he keeps going, never sure how much depth to give or even if the letters ever make it to Tony. 

For a time we did discuss rerouting to the south and taking the path through Nicaragua that Dr. Cho and Mr. Cho

He pauses, wracking his memory on whether or not he has shared with Tony the surprising truth of the familial connection between Helen and her traveling companion. Of course he may never have mentioned it because, according to etiquette, gossip such as that is not meant to be shared via ink and parchment, even if Helen would not mind. Perhaps it is best to remain somewhat socially adroit despite the lack of refinement around them. Principles do matter regardless of environment.

traversed to get to the Exhibition. Yet the seaward path is, as Dr. Cho so eloquently phrased it, months of being embraced by soggy air. An environment we all concurred was not ideal in my present state. Thus

Now his s squiggles along, lurching across the paper in time with the inertia that shoves their bodies to the left (his free hand holds Wanda’s shoulder to keep her steady), while Amadeus curses loudly and the horses release aggrieved whinnies. “Amadeus,” Helen has slid her window open and is hanging half out of it as she speaks with their driver in Joseon. Even if the words are incomprehensible to him (if Wanda was awake she would help translate some of it, having shown an astounding predilection towards language acquisition), the tone is unmistakably reproachful. 

In his lap, Wanda begins to stir.  Immediately he runs his hand gently along her temple, easing her back into a steady sleep. 

“Apparently,” Helen returns to her seat, tugging her boots on over the hems of her trouser legs, “we’re stuck in mud.”

An aggravatingly common experience since losing the rails. Vision nods at the information before delicately cupping Wanda’s head, even more delicately lifting it, and then he slides out of the seat, grabs his coat from the bench across from them, and bunches it under Wanda’s ear.  He waits six seconds, the average time it takes for Wanda to rouse if he fails at a seamless transfer. At seven seconds she is still blissfully and beautifully at peace.  

Vision pulls on his own boots, a shoe choice that was rare at the manor but has become the sole option in the unkempt wilderness where puddles are hidden by tall, swaying grass and unassuming, even idyllic scenes, are frequently rife with moist unpleasantness. It is, per usual, the smartest choice, the squelch of leather sinking into mud greeting him as soon as he steps out of the train car. 

“He says he didn’t see it.” The it that Amadeus-by-way-of-Helen is referring to is a sizable sinkhole that appears to be devouring the left rear wheel.  It is likely a truthful claim, the knee high grass of the area a perfect screen for most disasters. 

Vision walks around the vehicle, eyeing the various junctions where their car interacts with the ground. When he reaches the offending wheel, he squats down, steadying himself with the handhold affixed to the side of the car and ignoring the unhappy grind of the steel fasteners in his joints. 

The wheel is stuck, as they already knew. A few careful and serious tugs confirms that it is very stuck, the mud forming a viscous vacuum around the wood where every application of shear stress seems to increase the overall viscosity. Scientifically fascinating albeit disheartening. Back in Pennsylvania, after a surprise deluge, they were able to apply friction to escape. That, however, is unlikely to work now given how deep the wheel has already sunk, and how it keeps settling in with each pull of the horses. Vision stands, allowing the wince at the sharp pain in his hip to happen freely since no one else is next to him. 

At least he thought he was alone. “You said it wasn’t bothering you.” Vision does his best not to flinch at the comment, both from surprise and shame, and turns to face the accusation, finding Helen’s arms crossed and face unflinchingly serious.

Bothering is subjective. Every day, every hour, every minute, his body bothers him, stuck in a continuous fight against the unnatural exoskeleton riveted into his bones. There is never a moment where it is not bothersome, but sometimes it is less so, like when he’s deep in conversation with Wanda, all of his attention on her words and the way she forms each syllable and the small touches of her fingers to his hand when making an important or jocular point. Or when he’s working, the singular joy of butlering meant his day was scheduled down to the millisecond with menial tasks to keep his body and mind busy. When distracted, he can pretend, for a brief time, his discomfort is nonexistent. What Helen is trying to imply is that his hip has gone beyond the normal level of bothering into something more worrisome. A fair and not wholly incorrect conclusion. “I believe the way I was seated today has aggravated it.” He knows it is a weak response, as does Helen’s increasingly dour glare. 

“When we get to the town, we’re doing a full check.” The understood? is silently implied, which means he provides an equally wordless affirming nod. “Good. Now what do we do about this?”

He shifts his mind back to the wheel. Friction is out. If they had an acceptable item to use as a lever, it could work, but nothing they have on the train, at least without dismantling the vehicle, is sturdy enough or long enough to apply the necessary force needed. If they were not already so far behind in their schedule (at least two weeks, by his calculations), Vision could piece together some sort of gear based lift, or a simple hydraulic process, no more complicated than what he constructed in his youth. Yet it would require dismantling and then remantling the inner workings of the car, a far too timely process. “We could attempt to utilize vector forces?” 

“That could work.”

Her quick agreement creates a momentary comfort at the potential success through empiricism. What they will need now is a rope and an anchor point far enough in front of the vehicle to provide sufficient resistance for the application of a perpendicular force. Unfortunately the only thing around them is a vast expanse of swaying prairie grass leading to a horizon of small hills and even more lowly vegetation. “I am not certain we have anything sturdy enough to utilize as an anchor.” 

Helen accepts this the way she does any hurdle to scientific advancement, with a shrug and an increased concentration on finding an alternative solution. “I’ll go check the car for anything we could use, we might still have spikes.”

“Thank you.” 

While Helen is in the railcar, Vision walks a line from the front of the car, careful not to aggravate the already on edge horses that are now released from their harness and grazing happily from the prairie. Each muddy boot lands with the heel just kissing the toe of his other foot until he is roughly five meters away. He turns back towards the conundrum of the day, mouth falling as his mind works through the calculations, which is a difficult matter given he does not have enough data. What will be the anchor? How much tension exists in their rope? He cannot even recall how long their rope is, although he is certain it is likely not long enough to reach him here, an unfortunate thought given he is not sure even this distance is enough to help produce the necessary Newtons to remove the wheel from the mud. Even if it did work, they need a sufficient perpendicular force. The horses are the strongest, but also the least reliable, especially now that Amadeus is letting them enjoy a bit of downtime and they tend to get obstinate when it is time to move again. 

All of this is wrong anyway, he should be assessing this from the end closest to the wheel. So Vision walks back, this time with his usual gait, no longer needing to measure the distance. It’s as he moves towards the back of the rail car that a voice surprises him, “Try to stay optimistic, Vizh.”

“Wanda, I-” The tilt of her lips matches the lightness of her admonishment, his worry lessening slightly. “I hope we did not wake you.”

The pressure of Wanda’s hand running along the edge of his spinal plate immediately calms his mind, a power he still doesn’t fully comprehend but appreciates nonetheless. “Helen woke me up, said you needed some help.”

A correct assessment. “Yes.” Her hand moves along an ovoid path, soothing away the displeasure in his voice until it falls somewhere around incredulity. “I am simply astounded and mortified at the sheer number of vehicular issues we have encountered and we still have all that,” Wanda follows his voice before he even raises a hand towards the never-ending sea of prairie ahead of them, “and more to traverse until…”

“We’ll be fine.” Wanda flashes him a smile imbued with surety, one that sends a jagged jolt along the metal pathways of his body, her confidence growing exponentially since they waved farewell to Tony, this woman remarkably and gloriously at home in their current state of survivalism and independence. “You have me.” 

The press of her lips to his cheek renders his mind and body still, enraptured at the sway of her hips, which is made all the more prevalent by her adopting the rational dress standard set by Helen. Vision’s eyes follow as she circles the railcar, hands dancing back and forth in front of her waist, testing the strength of the predicament. Once satisfied, Wanda steps several feet back, heels spread to just past the width of her shoulders, her left foot in front of her right, and then her arms weave a spell through the air, the scarlet energy shimmering, sending prismatic waves along her skin and braided hair. There is never any doubt in his mind nor heart at how much he loves her, but he is always amazed at how much more he loves her every day, particularly when he can witness her in such a free and powerful state. 

Creaking emanates from the wheels as they’re loosened from the mud, rising up into the air with a bend of her knees and deep concentration dragging her features down into a scowl. It is awe inspiring to witness this, and yet, it isn’t even her most impressive feat. Around the border of Illinois a bridge over the river had washed away and Wanda, single-handedly, was able to get them across. Truthfully, if not for Wanda and her abilities, they likely would never stand any chance of reaching their goal. 

The car settles onto dry land and Wanda wipes her hands, turning towards him with a prideful arc on her mouth. His body responds immediately and instinctively, all else fleeing from his mind except her. Eight steps and his arms can wrap around her waist, pulling her towards him, the laugh eeking out of her mouth echoing inside of his as he kisses her. “You,” he pulls back to look at her, amused and fascinated by the dissipating red in her irises, “are extraordinary.”

“Are you,” the walk of her fingers up his chest matches the feisty pace of her words, “trying to woo me?”

He strives to make his, “Always,” forthright while mirroring her tone. “Have I been successful—”

“We’re losing light.” Helen’s sensible interruption shatters the moment and Wanda ends their physical connection with a sly wink.

*This was a doozy to discover. There are about 5 maps that show the rail line exists in 1853, but then I was able to get an archived first hand account of someone whose father helped build the railroad, and it said they weren’t even building it yet in 1853.  Then was able to request a few items through my university’s inter-library loan that also confirm the railroad did not exist yet.

#scarlet vision #vision #au #aos #ask anon #mine #replies #i am now going back into my hermit cave #hoping by early to mid November that 1/2 of the stressors will have been resolved #also #really can't believe you've read it 5 times #that's incredible #and i love you for that

[bevinbrand]

Does it ever bother you that so many fans seem to have had such a knee-jerk negative reaction when characters like Flash or Timber got introduced?

Hmm, I can say it does a little, but I also understand where it’s coming from, and that I can do the same thing sometimes. People are generally really good at recognizing patterns and frequently making judgement calls based on them. And it’s very useful a lot of the time! Red light = stop, alarm/siren sound = danger/something needs attention, etc. And our art absolutely reflects and deliberately uses long-standing shorthand to deliver information that isn’t spoken about directly, so that viewers can understand a lot more of what’s happening and what they’re supposed to respond to than just what characters are saying. The idea of a three-act structure for scripts, the existence of genres (which exist to make marketing easier more than anything), using things like up-lighting and Dutch angles to say that something is scary or unnatural, music set in a minor key to convey sadness, all sorts of things! These are all shorthands that have been built up over time that we all understand immediately, now, and it’s possible to communicate a lot of information this way.

The flip side of that is when we jump ahead to fill in what we think are things we’ve seen before when that may not be the case. This is how stereotyping works, it’s how a lot of bias works, and black-and-white thinking, and it’s how we collectively jump to conclusions and brush something off or put it into a box without really looking at it for what it is. It’s something that all people are prone to, especially when we get things like personal bias involved, where we’re less likely to give something a chance because we know we want something else. It can be really hard to break out of these patterns, especially if there’s a lot of external support that validates them-- but as much as pattern recognition is a very valuable tool, critical thinking is as well. Balancing these two is hard and nobody gets it right 100% of the time, but thinking critically about something instead of making an automatic pattern-recognition response can be the difference in seeing someone in a more complex light, understanding a situation to have more than two sides, understanding that people act the way that they do for reasons, even if those reasons may not justify the actions they take. It allows for empathy and compassion and for seeing the world and the people in it as complex and multifaceted; it lets in the shades of gray.

That’s not to say that every pattern is wrong, sometimes a spade is a spade and the most obvious thing is what’s happening. But it’s not always true, and sometimes opening our minds and taking a fresh look at something or someone will reveal much more than we initially gave credit to. It doesn’t mean we’re required to like them or want them in our lives, but recognizing the parts that aren’t just what we want them to be or what stereotype deems they must be, regardless of how we personally feel about them, is pretty powerful stuff. This is a very long-winded answer to your question about cartoon characters, but honestly I think it’s part of a much bigger piece of human nature that affects a lot of things. And that’s just my take on it, too. :)

#my asks