#adding someone new to my moot collection

[child-of-the-cosmos]

YA'LL. A TEXAN IS PROUD OF MY YEEHAW COSTUME. I AM WINNING TODAY. NOBODY CAN STOP ME FROM LIVING THE WILD WEST DREAMS.

#I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES NOW #SOMEONE PLAY THAT ONE WESTERN SONG WITH THE WHISTLE #QUICK QUICK QUICK #NO WAIT WAIT #LET ME GET INTO A COOL STANCE FIRST #ALSO ALSO #*LOOKS AT NEW MOOT* #IDK HOW THIS HAPPENED BUT JUST KNOW THAT #I AM HONORED #I WANT TO CLARIFY #THAT I AM SPECIFICALLY TALKING ABOUT THE TEXAN #NDKAKSSWLWKWOMSKS #mutual madness #adding someone new to my moot collection #too scared to ask for a showdown #but would 100% back them up if they were ever in one

[icedhoneyy]

Hi I’m here for the two hour heart presentation

oh anon, thank you for indulging me <3 and buckle up bc its 3 AM and this gonna be a mess ajdgdjjahdjd

so, because my brain is like That i mostly end up using a heart with a color to match the theme of the person i'm having a conversation with (watch all of my moots drop me once they read this insanity <\3) bc idk, it's cute. in a way it's me saying that i see u and ily hehe

but sometimes matching colors just isn't enough so i drop it and instead, i use this system i made up to properly put my feelings in the conversation. does anyone but me knows the meaning for each heart? nope. will i keep doing anyway? absolutely!

So here's how it goes:

(keep in mind that these are jumbled thoughts of my affection and if you can't understand, well me either lol just go with the flow. also you're not allowed to make fun of me for it)

💘— this one, i don't think i used it too often?! it's me saying I LOVE YOU, all caps and a hundred exclamation points, i appreciate you, i cherish you, i'm going to explode with how much affection i have for you, and etc. you get the picture.

💝— very soft, its me realizing how grateful i am that you're in my life, i love you and want you the best things for you. thank you for talking to me about this. thank you for being nice to me. also i'm giving you a hug full of love. and headpats if you want. yeah thats the vibes.

💖— same as the one above, but in a less calm and collected way? i'm shooting out fireworks. jumping up and down. giggling and blushing, talking very fast and very excitedly. i'm a mess but i'm happy.

💗— you know when you're so happy and so excited that you feel your heart jumping inside your chest? this is it for me

💓— heart fluttering, quite literally!! feels very light and nice. i'm giggling again.

💞— SWOONING SO MUCH THAT I GOT A BIT LIGHTHEADED!!

💕—same as above but in a cool way. i'm trying to be suave and but failing. i'm still swooning. feels like walking on clouds.

💟— uhm this one very specific. it feels like a stamp at the end of a letter. it feels like me lightly and lovingly tapping a friends forehead to scold them when they're not taking care of themselves. or i'm mad but i still love u

❣— oh this one is for skipping down a street when you're happy hihi

💔— alright, this one can be a lot. its me saying i'm sorry something not nice happened to you, i'm sorry you're sad and hurting. i wish i could do more about it to help you. and i sorry i suck at words most of the time to comfort you like you deserve. i'm frantically searching for ways to send my love you rn. ooooor, it can be me complaining about something mildly inconvenient. no in between.

❤— very intense, me thinks. i love you deeply. i'm moved by something you did/said. you're very special to me. i keep you in my heart at all times. i cherish you.

🧡— warm warm warm feelings!! its comfy and safe! like a hot cup of coffee/tea made with love.

💛— same as above but with added sparkle!!

💚— i think you're great and i'd share a lemonade booth with you. saying 'i love you' when its summer. the calming feeling of sitting with a friend on the grass, under a tree, taking about meaningful things and things that don't matter at all.

💙— I THINK YOU'RE COOL!!! if i had a pool i would invite you to my pool party. the feeling of sharing a favorite thing with someone. thanks for being my friend even if i'm a dork.

💜— I THINK YOU'RE THE COOLEST but you also intimidate me a little. you're fun and i always have a blast with you. you're hot and i think u should know it. the feeling of hearing a new favorite song for the first time. electrifying feelings.

🤎— heartwarming!!! its safe and it smeels like the home brewed coffee with milk that i have every morning. very homey. i feel calm with you. thanks for making me feel safe. thank you for welcoming me.

🖤— i think you're cool and hot and sexy. would platoniclly make out with you a little of u want. i was emo in middle school and i'm feeling dejavu. i would share playlists with you.

🤍— you're a literal angel in my eyes. you are always nice to me and that means a lot. you make me feel at ease. there's a place in my city that sells 2 meters tall cotton candy and i'd share it with you. if you ever come to my house i will let you use my favorite mug.

💌— sticking a post-it note with cute doodles in your desk. a little love note for u, mwah

#whos letting me talk at 3am!?!?! #idk how to pretend that i'm Normal this time of the night #🌼✉.beehive mail #🌼.from the hive: [ anon ]

[tempural]

Artcade 2022 Post-Mortem

“Artcade” has been an event for the last two years’ summer: 2022, and 2021.  I meant for Artcade to serve as a creative trading and gifting event formed around our original characters, and for Artcade to serve as an alternative to events that do not allow NSFW, or non-illustration work.  

Sculpture, music playlists, writing, and any other form of creativity is allowed in my event.  Most NSFW content is allowed with descriptive warnings and a spoilered image, save for content banned from Discord because the event is hosted on Discord.

This year, the event took place from July 1st to August 1st.

25 different people created art for reach other.

All together, we made 218 pieces of art!  That’s an average of 8 pieces per person!  I myself made 16 pieces for the 16 other people who chose to create something for me.

More under the cut.

Setting up the event:

We use the discord server in which I host art events and zines for Artcade.  A couple different channels were dedicated to the event:

An information channel in which rules were posted, and a link to a google docs with more in depth descriptions.

A directory in which individuals would post their name, a link to character references (whether on refsheet or their own site), their likes, and their Do Not Wants (very important!).

An art channel in which individuals would post their art.  New to this year, a thread would be made on that piece so that each piece could get in depth comments and discussion without being interrupted by any new pieces.

A “sidequest” channel for individuals to post their pieces for the zine cover (more on that later)

A points-and-prizes channel to contain the usage of the discord bot which allocated points and prizes (more on that later!)

A event discussion channel, in which people could ask questions or just talk to each other about what’s going right or going wrong.

The event was open to anyone who signed up for my June newsletter, or if they were too late they could ask for an invite from a friend.  I made a few social media posts about the event and newsletter, but otherwise did not have open calls.  I reasoned that a small “screening” process would limit the amount of people (as I cannot moderate too many people in my server), and ensure that anyone who wanted to participate in the event had the patience to wait a couple weeks and read through the information in the newsletter first.

In the future, I would probably make the “screening” process a bit more selective than an open newsletter.  It seemed that some people joined without knowing who I was, or what my art was about.  This is not ideal, as my art can be considered disturbing and should not be seen by most normal people.

Because I purposely choose not to use the “proship” or “antiship” fandom buzzwords, it seems that some people who rally against whatever “gross” NSFW stuff got lost and found their way in the event.  This perhaps could be prevented if I used the fandom buzzwords, but I find it disgusting to have to use fandom terms in order to clearly get my point across about how I literally do not care if people draw porn of BBW caillou’s ass or naruto eating shit.

Another option for next year would be to use a form to collect contact information of people wanting to participate, and to privately DM them the invite link.  Individually sending links would require 20x more effort.  It would also necessitate some snooping and people willingly giving me their social media links so I can straight up tell them “dude your DNI says dni if you draw necrophilia and i draw necrophilia dude lol”.  If someone does not have an online presence, that would also make the snooping a moot point as I would hate to require a website or socmed in order to join the event.

In any case, most of the set-up was done in cleaning up the rules and guidelines from last year.  I tried to accentuate that people should practice self care about what art they choose to engage with, by adding a line about “Skip over the Romanian incest cannibal named Blammibal Erecter, and choose another character to draw. “  But y’know, it’s a long document and not everyone reads everything.

---

Points and Prizes:

Last year’s theme was a chuck-e-cheeze parody.  This year’s theme was an arcade!  Both themes were to set up the “point” system, in which points were awarded for pieces made.  

Certain milestones like “coding your own website” also rewarded points for behaviors I wanted to encourage.  Coding one’s own static website (i recommended neocities) was something I wanted everyone to get started on, as refsheet and toyhouse are not necessarily going to be up forever or allow all content.  We’ve seen that with tumblr purging NSFW posts, or various other character sheet websites going down.  I wanted everyone to be vigilant, and have fun having complete control over how their characters were presented!

The prizes were most jokes, like photos of my dogs for 60 points or changing my discord name for 200.  There were some physical prizes like zines (from my store, or the artcade zine we’d form with the art we create).  I did not want the focus of the event to be on prizes, but have them be fun rewards to redeem.

By far, the most valued prize was the “Movie Night” despite it being a paltry 20 points.  As such, it was accessible to most people who made just a couple things, and participants talked about what movies they were thinking of choosing for their One True Choice making the value very great in Community Value.  Movie nights were a thing in the server far before Artcade, but it was just fun to have that one big movie that you wanted to show everyone and force me and Shane to watch!  Are our opinions and live reactions to movies valued?!

Movies watched included: Amores Perros, Michael Collins, Rituals.  We have a few more lined up in the back when people choose a date.

Things to think about:

The point system is imperfect, but always will be because the act of making art cannot be assigned a numeric value, especially based on volume of art made.  I simply want them to be some representation of the progress one has made in the event, so one can look back and see how much they’ve made for others.

I would like to mitigate any and all focus on the points and prizes as the main point of the event.  The point of the event is to learn about each other’s characters, learn about each other, and hopefully have fun while building a supportive community.  No one should be fixating on getting 250 points so they can redeem a movie.

I will mitigate more of the physical prizes, as they take a lot of effort to make, and a lot of money to mail out.  The artcade zine has not been finished yet, but it may be the only thing I am willing to send out in the future.

The point system may be simplified further to only award points for each new person a piece has been made for, and return fires.  It has been made evident to me that I underestimate most writers.  I consider 2000 words (the max word count that counts for points) a very high amount to write in a week, but it seems that other writers can consistently write that much in just a day or two!

If the point system is simplified and deflated, we can deflate the points for the prizes to be less like 240 points.  It’ll be easier to think of them as individual pieces made.

---

Moderation:

By far the most difficult thing for anything with more than like 5 people.  No one is guaranteed to get along with each other, and no one is guaranteed to have read any rules.

The event was 99% smooth sailing in my opinion.

The thing we had to address the most was the use of “deviantart fetish” as a term in DNWs (Do Not Wants), along with “gross stuff” and similarly vague descriptors.  While it seemed a certain subsect of the population knew exactly what a deviantart fetish was, many others were confused as to what that entailed.  After many discussions with the server, I concluded that the term should not be used because it does not inform the reader and is used judgmentally (no one ever says they WANT a deviantart fetish in their art, and it’s designated as the “other” weird fetishes).  The event was supposed to be inclusive, and the server is described as kink-friendly.  As such, participants should not be using judgemental language.  You never know if I’m the one with the “deviantart fetish” :)

The Do Not Want section is supposed to be for the artists’ own safety.  It is not a place to put one’s personal judgements on display.  While one can be free to dislike pee and poo fart fetishes, there is never any need to elaborate on why it’s gross or even say that it’s gross.  Just say it and be done.  I would encourage artists to elaborate more on what they do like, rather than write huge lists of things they hate.

Some things to think about:

Simplify the rules on Discord to just the basics, and have an outside site like dreamwidth to elaborate on the rules.  The google docs is not quite accessible on mobile, and laggy.

Zpires had a great page on “ID”, which was basically a great “likes/prompts” list with elaboration on why that pings the brain.  I would encourage people to focus on writing that rather than the DNW.

If someone has a great amount of fetishes they do not want, to the point that they need to use a vague term like “deviantart kink” or “gross stuff” to try and cover all bases, I would encourage them to simply say that they do not want NSFW or sexual art, unless the kink is specifically listed in their “wants” list, or the art has been discussed beforehand with both participants.  

I need to make it absolutely clear that there should be no shaming of ships, fandom, interests, kinks, or anything else.  It’s much more productive to focus on things you do like, rather than make everyone around you silent and uncomfortable because you are making fun of things they may enjoy.

I should make the join link for next artcade accesible only if the reader presses a specific checkbox or hidden button LOL.  Like “press here if you love necrophilia and spiderman 2002″.  Just to hammer in the atmosphere of the server.

I should not be afraid to just kick people if they seem like they are misunderstanding everything and do not fit in the climate I am trying to cultivate.  No one is meant to get along with everyone, and they are free to participate in any other art event that does not involve making me uncomfortable.

---

That’s about all I can think of for Artcade!  I feel like it was an astounding success, twice as much work but twice as much art from twice as many people!  It really warms me heart hearing people say that they enjoyed the event, and had their creativity stoked in a art community that uplifts personal expression and original ideas.  Now to get to work on the zine... that’ll make everyone jealous cuz no one will get one except particpants!!!! >:)

#hella long posts #artcade #post-mortem #analysis #meta

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

#nct #nct au #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #lee jeno #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno au #lee jeno scenarios #lee jeno angst #lee jeno imagines #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno smut #jeno #jeno x reader #jeno au #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno fluff

[thosewickedlovelies]

Anything That Shined: prologue  |  The Thief x Heroic!F!Reader x Marcus Moreno

Rating: T for Teen

Summary: The thief debates on adding a few Heroics to his collection

Tags: friends to lovers; eventual throuple? threesome? I haven’t decided yet

Word count: 967

A/N: So I know I labeled my last MM thing as a prologue, but this is a story I have actual ideas and more content for, so it's forreal this time. Please enjoy this lil preview for a story I'm excited to write more of! 😍

This will NOT be any kind of dark fic- the thief "stealing" them will not be described, and will not be a permanent state- the situation will be explained in the next chapter

Masterlist

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It’s an idea he’s toyed with before, of course. Stealing a Heroic. What an addition to his collection one of them would make! The things he would have access to with some of their abilities on his side...

Something about it never sat quite right, however. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it- he’d used his abilities to steal people before, although he wasn’t sure it counted as stealing to take them back from miscreants who’d abducted them in the first place (“Rescue” wasn’t his preferred term. He didn’t advertise his morals, after all- only that they had a price tag).

But whenever he considered acquiring a Heroic- nothing. His gift didn’t whisper to him the way it normally did when he was pondering a heist, didn’t illuminate potential interception points or escape routes. Perhaps because that truly would be kidnapping, not theft, the thief muses as he waits for his order. Vague as they were, he reasonably certain it went against his morals to steal people. He preferred to recruit them, voluntarily.

But if it was only temporary? he probed. If I only meant to steal them for a day, and not keep or harm them? 

His gift seems to titter in response. The thief grumbles internally at its coy answer, having long since stopped questioning the oddity of talking to what was essentially a vague quasi-consciousness in his head.

Perhaps his gift’s unhelpfulness was due to his own apprehension. Stealing the entirety of a living person was a lot trickier than just plucking the voice from them. And really, none of their abilities couldn’t be acquired by him otherwise. Miracle Guy? The thief had someone who could fly. Tech-No? Superpowers weren’t necessary to be tech-savvy enough for his needs.

The speedy one would be useful, the thief reflects as he adds just a touch of sugar to his coffee. In and out with the goods, no fuss no muss. But that took all the fun out of a heist. He could do that part himself half the time, anyway. The rich scent of the café’s new single-origin brew lures him from his thoughts, and the thief allows himself to be distracted, sighing into the steam kissing his face and luxuriating in the rich flavor. He simply must ask the owner for their supplier. 

The kicker is that he knows who the real jewel would be- the Heroic whose powers could provide the greatest benefit, even to a man as substantially gifted as himself. Marcus Moreno. He hid behind his swords and his teammates more so now than he had in his early days, but the thief had seen the footage. His telekinetic abilities weren’t to be underestimated.

Nestled in his favorite spot- a cushy nook, half-hidden behind a large plant with leaves like graceful emerald fans- the thief regards the park across the street as people flock to it. He couldn’t have predicted that the same he day he comes into town would be the same day the hero is involved in a minor incident across the street from a café he frequented. But it seems just a little too serendipitous of an opportunity to ignore. 

A razor-edged halo of gleaming silver arcs around Moreno’s head when he whirls his swords up and into their sheaths. The thief’s gaze lingers on the blades, on the wide shoulders to which they’re strapped. The hero is so close he can make out the good-natured smile on his face where he kneels before a clamor of children. Yet still his gift murmurs too faintly to make out, as if from across a windblown distance. The thief frowns in thought. But when another, brighter glint catches his eye, his gift bursts into such cacophony the thief almost flinches, expensive coffee sloshing in his cup.

It’s you. The Heroic they called Sunbeam.

What skin is exposed by your suit ripples with the the light of the sun. Radiant and shimmering with a white-gold aura, you look every inch a star walking the earth- the thief is baffled as to how he’s missed you, even as fixated on Moreno as he was. Your brightness dims bit by bit every time you refasten a patch of your modifiable uniform, although the effect is rendered somewhat moot by the fact that your suit is also white and yellow, with glittery gold patches that draw the eye. As he watches, you pause, closing your eyes for a deep breath, and the remaining glow in your hands and face lessens to an almost human level.

Your fellow Heroic stands as you stride back toward him, asking something, his brow furrowed in concern. You shake your head in reassurance. The man’s relief is obvious, even from this distance; he reaches out to rest a hand on your shoulder, his stance relaxing. You seem surprised, but pleased- a bashful smile appears on your lips, and- just for a second- your skin seems to flicker again with a bright warmth.

Interesting. His gift hisses excitedly. The cup clinks faintly against its saucer as the thief lowers it, all of his attention laser-focused on the super-powered duo across the street, on the rapidly clarifying plan in his head. Both of you turn as someone else runs up to you. The angle causes natural sunlight to glance off your cheek, and the thief blinks at the shine; it’s not unlike the reflections which speared off of Marcus’s swords. Your gold to his silver.

The thief smirks to himself as he remembers his own words. Anything that shined. His eyes track your glittering silhouette, Moreno resembling your shadow in his black uniform, in the thoughtless synchronicity of your body language. His gift croons in an alluring song. Ah, what the hell, he decides. A two-for-one deal. His smirk transforms into an expression of relish.

---

I apologize for nothing. Luv u guys <3

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss

#the thief x reader #the thief x you #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes fic #marcus moreno x you #wcbh fic #the thief fic #wine commercial fic #casillero del diablo commerical #we can be heroes #wcbh #i hope this doesnt get lost in all the kinktober stuff about to come out haha

[gamebunny-advance]

My Findings So Far

(I’ll be referencing this playthough for my screenshots/commentary)

There’s 1 new enemy type. I’m calling it a “Clapper” (cuz is claps yo ass). It looks very similar to the pounder bots, but it’s wearing suspenders for some reason. I guess they just needed an easier close-range enemy. Instead of pounding the ground for an AOE attack, it claps the area in front of itself similar to how the ground drone reacts when you get too close to it.

Note: That glowing target is not being produced by the Clapper.

Kliff got a new scarf. He seems to be the only NPC with a significant design change like this. It’s cute, but I wonder why he’s the only one (that I noticed) that got updated.

You cannot pet Ellie after unlocking the Elliecopter.

All the approach segments got a lot more *aesthetic*. A lot of things are a lot more *aesthetic* in general due to improved textures.

The NSR bridge seems as long as ever, but at least there’s *stuff* on it now, but ...

NSR TOWER STILL DOESN’T HAVE A FAST TRAVEL PHONE. Or if it does, it’s unlocked in the post-game, and that wasn’t shown in this playthrough. Again, being able to select a boss from a menu does essentially make this point moot, but if they’re still going to have the fast travel system, then they still should have added a phone there.

The playthrough I watched didn’t really demonstrate the new menus or other QOL features, so it’s hard to say if any of the other improvements I wanted are there.

It doesn’t seem like you can re-read the Kliffnotes.

There still doesn’t seem to be a dedicated music room or cutscene viewer.

If there is a boss rush, it wasn’t added to NSR tower.

It doesn’t seem like there’s new lore.

-------

So, unless some of those last points get confirmed by someone else, it seems like only 2 out of 9 of my wants were answered, so I’m not gonna get the game again. (Even if I take out my “joke” wants like petting Ellie and Master Wolfe, that’s still only 2 out of 7).

If someone can somehow confirm if other features were added, then I may reconsider because the playthrough I watched only “beat” the game, but they didn’t collect everything or experiment that much, so there may be things that need to be unlocked to be seen/used.

#nsr #no straight roads #kliff

[mercurygray]

You know that saying about ‘well, if you want to read it so bad, you damn well write it then?!” 

Well, BoB fandom, ya girl has caved to base desire and done the thing. Brought to you by repeated readings of @junojelli​‘s fine work, the beautiful scenery at Zell, and Dick Winters’ blessedly short swimtrunks.

It was not a fashionable swimsuit.

Vogue would show girls on the Riveria and the Cote d’Azur lounging on the beaches in the latest two- piece in some stunning, sunny pattern, but the standard issue Army swimsuit, like all its PT gear, was navy blue, one piece, and incredibly un-fun.

The fashionable nature of the thing wasn’t really of interest to you - three years wearing olive drab had made such points moot - but there was something about putting on clothes, looking in a mirror, and liking what you saw - and this was the most of your skin anyone would have seen out in public in a long time. No one could hide scars in a swimsuit - the hole in your calf, now puckered closed and white, the small collection of scar tissue along your arm where a group of fragments had decided to throw a party. The men could all joke about their scars, but a woman’s were...different.

Dick had wanted to go swimming this morning, and you’d promised you’d oblige, but that was before you’d put the swimsuit on and examined the effect in the mirror. Well, my legs look pretty good, anyway. Three years of running around Europe’s been good for something.

The morning was warm, and there seemed little reason for a coat. Grabbing a towel, a short walk down to the lake and its dock found Dick waiting with, of all people, Harry, who was either up incredibly early, or going to bed incredibly late, a half-finished glass of something slowly beading moisture onto the tabletop beside him.

“I was wondering how the hell you were going to get Lew up this early for PT,” Harry commented with a smile, sitting up a little in his deckchair. “When he said he was waiting for someone I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t go easy on him, Lieutenant. He needs a firm hand - been out to pasture far too long.”

It was laughable, looking at the long leanness of him, that anyone would say that Dick Winters had, at any point in his life, been out to pasture, but Dick’s little blush at the mention of a firm hand was nearly worth the price of admission, the subtle creep of color among his freckles as he squinted in the morning sun and tried not to look like Harry’s comment had unnerved him, as though there had not been plenty of firm hands and, well, firm lots of things the night before. Dick’s commitment to his privacy was really quite endearing - if only because it made all the things he actually did in private just that much more intense.

“Your ass looks great in that swimsuit, by the way,” Harry added, taking a sip of his drink and looking pleased with himself.

“If you wouldn’t say it to me, Harry,” Winters began, a little testily. You could practically feel the protective energy radiating off him - not an uncommon thing, but still something that brought a little thrill every time it came out.

“And your ass looks great as well, Dick,” Harry added without missing a beat, a huge grin on his face. “Would absolutely tap that, if, y’know, I was into gingers.”

Ignoring Harry’s antics and Dick’s rising annoyance, you rolled your eyes and said, before either could get a word in edgewise, “Thanks, Harry, I’ll tell Kitty you said so.”

“Please do,” Harry invited, leaning back in his deckchair to enjoy the sunshine. “Maybe she’d start sending me more interesting letters - or a new photo...” 

“Ignore him,” Dick murmured, picking up the two towels he’d brought from the officer’s quarters (real towels, big white plushy things that were no match for the tiny G.I. green things you’d been using for years) and making his way down to the end of the dock.

You stopped and looked him square in the eye, hands on hips. “What, are you saying my ass doesn’t look great?”

The question did not need to be asked - you already knew his answer, as it seemed to be one of his favorite features of yours. But sometimes it was fun to needle him like this, pushing him to do or say things outside his usual range. He was not, by nature, a demonstrative man, preferring to express admiration (or censure) quietly and privately, and (particularly on this, the matter of his girlfriend’s appearance) where it could be subject to public commentary.

He pursed his lips, that determined, annoyed look that he often assumed when he was trying to master his patience, torn between what good manners and desire both asked of him. He cleared his throat, considering his options, and took a few steps to close the space between you. “It is -” and here he casually wrapped his hands over the offending bodypart, drawing you in close, his voice a murmur from deeper in his chest than was usual, “a vision of perfection.”

You stood up on tiptoe to kiss his nose and smiled, suspicions confirmed. “Thank you.”

“GET A ROOM, YOU TWO,” Harry hollered from the shore, now just enjoying being a nuisance - sadly, something that looked to become a permanent condition here in peacetime. “Jesus, out here in public being obscene...”

Dick looked ready to hit something, by the state of the vein in his neck, but you had this well in hand, turning away from him ever so slightly and with absolutely no pretensions to being ladylike, to shout “TAKE A HIKE, HARRY.”  The lieutenant waved an arm as if to bat the suggestion away, groped for his drink, and settled back in his chair to consume it, eyes closed, his smile as wide as a cat that has just gotten into cream, doubtless now imagining Kitty at some poolside cabana looking lovely. 

You turned back to Dick, and smiled. Harry was being a loveable ass, Dick was protective and in love with you and did not really give a damn about the swimsuit, only the woman in it, and the sun was shining, and for today, there was no war. All was right in the world.  “So, are we still going for that swim, or no?”

Edited to add: If you liked the nameless woman in this drabble, she’s basically my original character Joan Warren without her nametag on. You can read more about Joan (and her relationship with Dick Winters) in The Darkening Sky.

#is this what the kids are doing nowadays? #dick winters #band of brothers imagine #dick winters x reader #band of brothers #1940s girl gang #bc you know ONE OF THEM is the girl in the suit #band of brothers x reader #richard winters x reader #damn you eisenhower and your damn jackets

[xxpadfootxx]

Since When Do Heroes Have Paws? Part 3/6 (Doggy Paddling in the Dark - TokoTsu)

Summary: Tsu teaches Tokoyami that there might just be more than her than fluffy fur and a fragile form.

~~~

Even as a dog, Tsuyu felt content. She had eaten a wholesome meal, taken a nap in a soft pile of blankets that had been left for her, and gone for a walk with Tokoyami. But something was missing. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but something about Tokoyami was setting off her senses that something was wrong. She had tried to figure out what it was but without her voice, it was hard to probe. Right now, Tokoyami sat on his bed reading a book, Dark Shadow resting its head on his shoulder. Tsuyu was lying in her bundle of blankets at the end of the bed and she watched the bird boy, her eyes scanning for something, anything to tip her off as to what felt so weird about him. She had always felt comfortable around the reclusive boy, his calm demeanor and cool intellect always leading Tsuyu to feel calm and collected as well. This had started a chain of events that led to them hanging out more often, usually choosing to hang out in one of their rooms to read books or study, merely enjoying each other’s silent presence. But this time felt different. Tsuyu felt as if there was a barrier between them and yet she could think of no way to break down that wall.

“I can feel you staring,” Tokoyami said cooly.

Tsuyu wagged her tail and spun her ears back bashfully. She didn’t know he had been paying attention to her. Tokoyami’s sharp stare left the pages of his book and drifted over to her, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Suddenly leaning forward, Tokoyami reached out and stroked her fluffy white fur, ruffling the mop of hair on her head and using his pointer finger to lightly scratch beneath her chin. Tsuyu’s tail wagged harder but her eyes widened slightly as she felt it. She was starting to see why she felt such an odd barrier between them. Even though he was petting her, his hand was barely adding any weight into his movements, and his arm was hovering in the air, keeping all weight off of her to the point where his arm was getting sore from holding it up. After a short while, Tokoyami sat back with a soft groan, leaning into the pillows behind his head. Tsuyu continued to watch him, more and more things coming to her attention. She noticed how quiet and passive Dark Shadow had been, his head never leaving Tokoyami’s shoulder. She knew Dark Shadow to usually be more on the quiet side but in all of the time she had studied with Tokoyami, she knew he had a loud, kind of rambunctious side too, much to Tokoyami’s annoyance and Tsuyu’s secret enjoyment. But now, the beast merely lay still, his eyes drooping almost sadly as he rested against the bird hero, his dark form obscuring part of the pillows.

Tsuyu observed Tokoyami for a little bit longer before making up her mind. Standing up abruptly, Tsuyu darted over the comforter of his bed and bounded over to him, her small tail wagging and her fluffy fur swaying around her as she moved. Tokoyami had zero time to react before Tsuyu made it to him and didn’t get the chance to try to stop her before she bolted under his arm and pressed her body up against his side, curling up in a little ball right in between his body and Dark Shadow. Tokoyami blushed a little bit but Tsuyu didn’t see, her head turned away from him to look at Dark Shadow. Despite the shock of her sudden change in position, Tokoyami recovered quickly and snapped his fingers, a sound which prompted Dark Shadow to immediately sit up and try to move away from her.

Tsuyu had had an idea that this was going to happen and lunged forward, her tongue shooting out of her mouth to wrap around the shadow’s clawed arm. Dark Shadow paused with a surprised squawk and turned to see the little white ball of fluff holding him tightly by the arm, her frog quirk still in effect despite her condition.

“Tsu, what are you doing?” Tokoyami asked, his voice slightly gruffer than usual and his eyes alight with slight fear.

She couldn’t talk, but she did look in his direction and wag her tail, waiting until Dark Shadow relaxed and moved back to his previous spot before she released his arm. Sitting up but not moving away from her place beside them, Tsuyu looked right into Tokoyami’s eyes, her ears perked and her eyes sparkling.

Tokoyami sighed and reached out to pat her head again, once more using the least amount of pressure possible as he did so. Without hesitation, Tsuyu reached around and very lightly nipped his fingers, leading Tokoyami to retract his hand quickly with a small yelp of surprise. Tsu expected him to ask her what the hell she was doing but instead, he leaned down and spoke to her, his voice rising up an octave.

“I am so sorry Tsu! Did I hurt you? Where did I cause the damage? Do you need something? Anything? A towel? A blanket? Some food? What can I do to make it up to you?” His voice was still in its low tone, not having changed much but the speed of his speech was rapid and flustered, very unlike his normally cool, calm, slower tone and speed of voice.

Her heartbeat rose just slightly at the rush of his voice, something to do with her new small dog genes, but she managed to swallow her anxiety and barked loudly, cutting off his rambling speech. Standing carefully, she made her way over to her friend and pressed herself firmly against his chest, her tail still wagging. Using her nose, she pushed his hand up and snuggled underneath it, her tiny teeth gently latching onto his finger to keep his hand in place. Tokoyami watched her with unfiltered surprise as she moved until she was rested completely under the full weight of his hand. As soon as she was settled, Tsu sighed and relaxed, trying to show Tokoyami that she was comfortable and didn’t need to be coddled even with her new size. Tokoyami remained tense for a while, his sharp eyes narrowed on her fluffy white form before he finally allowed himself to relax a little, telling himself that if he was hurting her that she would tell him. Tokoyami sighed in contentment and both had finally relaxed, Dark Shadow even closing his eyes, when a loud banging on Tokoyami’s door caused them to jump away from each other.

“Tokoyami, Tsuyu, Aizawa says that it’s your turn for training, please report to the training arena in approximately five minutes!” Iida said through the door with his usual blunt authoritative voice.

As soon as Tsu felt her heartbeat slow down a little bit more, the fluffy white terrier hopped off of the bed and made her way to the door, turning to look at her friend expectantly. Tokoyami sat in the bed for a moment longer, his eyes wide and his beak slightly parted as he contemplated something. His eyes darted from the door to Tsu to Dark Shadow and then back to Tsu again. Taking a deep breath and schooling his features back into a neutral look, Tokoyami stood from the bed, Dark Shadow disappearing into his chest. The bird hero opened his door and followed Tsu out into the hallway toward the arena where they were to train for the afternoon.

Aizawa sighed and looked at the watch on his wrist as Jirou left the ring with a dumbed dog Kaminari treading behind her, his tongue lolling out and his eyes closed blissfully, little yips coming from the Shiba Inu’s throat as he walked. Despite the fact that his students were on a break, he had decided to hold some quirk training tests to see where they would need to start off when the break ended. He knew that several of his students were now dogs for the time being, but he had decided to host the test anyway to see how those five students specifically would be able to handle the giant shift in their lives. He looked at his watch impatiently again, waiting for Tokoyami and Asui to show up, something that sparked his interest slightly considering those two students, in particular, were always punctual. He was just about ready to go looking for them himself when a fluffy white West Terrier bounded into the room, a less than thrilled Tokoyami following behind her. Aizawa’s eyes narrowed as the boy approached him, his eyes constantly turning to glance at Tsu as if he didn’t want to be caught. The little white dog was out of earshot, her nose twitching as she made herself familiar with the room.

“Sir?” Tokoyami whispered once he got close enough to his teacher.

“Yes?”

“Do you think we could do this some other time? I’m really worried about Tsu.”

“She looks fine to me,” Aizawa responded shortly, glancing over Tokoyami’s shoulder to quickly check for a limp he was missing. “What seems to be the problem?”

Tokoyami shuffled from foot to foot, something that Aizawa found particularly strange considering the boy’s normally cool, confident personality.

“Well, she is just so small and fragile, I don’t want to hurt her, my quirk is so aggressive, and that’s just in the daylight! Why don’t we do this when she is human again? Then she can defend herself from me.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at the bird boy and sighed making Tokoyami look up. His teacher leaned down and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I think you should have a little bit more faith in your friend,” Aizawa whispered before removing his hand and walking past the boy.

Tokoyami wanted to protest but saw the point as moot as his teacher approached Tsu with confidence. Aizawa leaned down as Tsu trotted up to her teacher and sat at his feet. His large hand gently patted her head, making Tokoyami gasp just slightly. Aizawa’s hand was nearly the size of her head! Nervousness at the idea of Tsu being injured by someone’s large, clumsy hand made Tokoyami grit his teeth and tense his fist, something that Aizawa did not miss but didn’t acknowledge. Standing up, Aizawa moved back to his place at the edge of the arena and motioned for the two students to begin.

Tsu immediately trotted to one end of the arena and crouched into a fighting stance, her tail straight out behind her and her ears pricked up to catch every noise around her. Tokoyami moved to the other end of the arena and also got into a fighting stance but allowed it to be looser than normal, his fists not so tightly curled and Dark Shadow raising out of his chest only to be the size of a small dinner plate. Tsu cocked her head slightly and Aizawa saw her tail droop slightly at the pitiful size of Dark Shadow, but she managed to shake it off and refocus herself, her body tensing even more as she waited for him to make the first move.

Tokoyami watched her for a few seconds before sending Dark Shadow out toward Tsu in a rush of darkness. Tsu brightened at the force of the shadow being thrust at her, only for her features to fall again when Dark Shadow slowed down immensely at the last second, swiping at her so slowly that she side-stepped it without even having to move more than a foot to her left. Aizawa heard her little growl as Dark Shadow made another weak attempt to snatch at her, her eyes blazing now with frustration.

“Both of you stop,” Aizawa said suddenly. Tokoyami’s whole body relaxed and Dark Shadow dove back into his chest.

“Thank you, sir,” Tokoyami said, about ready to turn to leave when Aizawa caught their attention.

“As it is pretty obvious that the two of you are not fighting at the capacity necessary, I’ve decided to add a little something to your test to motivate you.”

Tokoyami’s eyes flashed with fear as Aizawa moved over to the far wall and placed his finger on the light switch. Turning an almost wicked smile on Tokoyami, Aizawa flipped the switch, bathing the room in darkness.

Tokoyami was tempted to call out to either Aizawa or Tsu when he very suddenly felt something forcefully hit his chest and throw him backward. He let out a groan when his back hit the wall, pain spidering up his spine. The bird boy tried to stand but didn’t get more than a few inches off the ground when he felt something wrap around his waist and lift him only to throw him back down onto the ground.

“Tsu?” Tokoyami croaked, trying to get up once more. The thing that had hit him before tried to wrap around him again, but he finally allowed Dark Shadow out of his confines. The dark beast grabbed ahold of the long ribbon-like object and threw it around. Tokoyami flinched when he heard the sound of Tsu’s yelp and stood up with his hands held out on either side, trying to find something to grab ahold of.

“Tsu! Are you alright? Where are you?”

It was then that he heard something like the sound of a whip flying through the air and managed to just barely jump out of the way before what he realized to be her tongue slapped the ground where he had been moments before. Tokoyami spun around just as the tongue came back for a counter-attack, barely even giving him enough time to blink. Tsu’s tongue wrapped tightly around his waist and tossed him across the arena. Although she knocked the wind out of his lungs, Tokoyami remembered what happened the last time he stayed on the ground and scrambled to move as Tsu attacked again. He knew he was going to get thrown again and didn’t have enough time to get his legs underneath him, and so with a whirl of power, allowed Dark Shadow to block her attack with his large claws. Tokoyami’s eyes widened at the size of his quirk, the large bird-like shadow filling almost half of the arena and his eyes glowing a deep, dark red.

“Dark Shadow, no!” Tokoyami shouted as his quirk caught sight of Tsu somewhere in the darkness and dove for her small form, his jaws parted in fury and his claws opened to grab at her. Tokoyami tried desperately to hold back but Dark Shadow was taking advantage of the darkness and swelled with power, ignoring the pitiful tugs against him from Tokoyami.

“More, More, MORE!” Dark Shadow cried out, the giant beast rising up before crashing down heavily onto the arena floor.

“NO! Dark Shadow, you’ll hurt her! We’ll hurt her! I’ll hurt her!” Tokoyami called out, scrambling to his feet and peering through the darkness to get a glance at the damage his quirk had caused.

A really bright blinding flash suddenly blinded Tokoyami, who raised his hands to block the light from his eyes as Aizawa flipped the switch on the wall. As soon as Tokoyami felt the pain in his eyes die down, the boy lowered his hands to see Aizawa watching him with an almost smug smirk plastered across his face.

“I told you that you need to have more faith in your friends,” Aizawa said slowly, waving his hand to the left of Tokoyami. Tokoyami glanced over and felt his jaw drop in shock at the sight that met his eyes. There, standing in the center of the arena was Tsuyu, human once again rather than the little Westie terrier she had been before, with Dark Shadow wrapped protectively around her body. A small blush had risen to her cheeks at the realization that she wasn’t wearing any clothes thanks to her transformation, but she stood tall and gazed at Tokoyami with a determined look.

Tokoyami managed to close his mouth shut with a snap and then gave her a gentle smirk. She returned his look with a dazzlingly confident smile that seemed to brighten the entire room.

“Very good, both of you. Tokoyami, you will want to have a little bit more control over your quirk in the dark but you otherwise handled yourself well even with the pressure of fighting against an opponent in the dark. You are dismissed,” Aizawa said.

Tokoyami approached Tsu and took her hand, leading her out of the arena with Dark Shadow still wrapped protectively around her body. The pair made their way out of the arena and walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms so that Tsu could change into some proper clothes. As soon as she had put on a simple fern green t-shirt and a pair of white shorts, Tsu trotted out of her bedroom and made her way over to Tokoyami, who was leaning against the wall in an attempt to look relaxed. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she felt the exact opposite, all of his muscles coiled and tense, his eyes darting around to look at everything except her.

“Tokoyami,” Tsu said, finally managing to draw his eyes to meet hers. “Do you know now why I acted the way I did? Why I attacked you without hesitation in the arena and nipped your finger in your bedroom?”

“Yeah…” Tokoyami said softly, dropping his eyes to stare at his feet.

“Listen,” Tsu said with a soft sigh. “I understand what you were trying to do, and I understand why you were trying to do it. When that thug’s quirk hit me, I happened to take the form of a very small dog, but you can’t keep seeing me as some kind of little weakling that needs to be protected all the time. I am a hero in training just like you, and I deserve to be treated like one.”

“I know,” Tokoyami said. “It wasn’t so much me trying to protect you because I saw you as fragile though. I would NEVER see you as a weakling, although I do not blame you for thinking that I did. The main reason why I was treating you differently is because it was me. If you were with any other person during this whole thing, then I would not have been worried at all. But you were staying with me, the student with an out of control quirk, the person who is dark and antisocial and secluded and uncontrollable. I mean, you saw what happened during the training camp! When the villains attacked, my quirk went so insane that I was actually attacking my friends, almost killing them, and I was absolutely powerless to stop it. I was worried that I was going to hurt you because I have no faith in myself, not because I don’t have faith in you.”

Tokoyami continued to stare at the ground as he told her everything, his shoes suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the world to look at. The feeling of a small hand against his face made the boy flinch and the feeling of her soft lips gently brushing against his cheek made both him and Dark Shadow flare up with a fiery blush. Her face was also red but a little more controlled as she stepped back, a sweet smile on her face.

“Thank you for telling me, I understand everything now. But in the future, don’t be so hard on yourself. I was able to subdue Dark Shadow by merely touching his nose when he came in to grab me. Why? Because you did not want to hurt me. I don’t have some special power that allowed me to conquer your mighty shadow, YOU made that happen with your heart and your mind. Even when the darkness made him go crazy, you were able to break through his wall, to the point where he even guarded my body against prying eyes when the lights came back on, and you didn’t even know that I had gone back to normal. Dark Shadow obeyed because YOU care. You are not a failure or a monster, and I think it’s important for you to understand that as much as you can. Just keep working at it and you will make an amazing hero.”

Patting Dark Shadow on the nose and winking once at Tokoyami, Tsu began to walk away with a bright smile on her face. She was almost at the end of the hall when Tokoyami stopped her, his hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Wait,” Tokoyami said. Releasing her wrist, he raised his hand to her hair and patted her head with the full weight of his arm, refusing to hold back with the beginnings of a smile tugging at his mouth.

The hallway rang with the sound of Tsu’s laughter at the gesture, making the corners of Tokoyami’s mouth twitch upward even more. He hoped that he’d always be able to make her laugh and smile like this, his heart filling up with butterflies as she beamed at him and linked her arm with his, making her way to his room to continue their gentle study session from earlier that day.

#mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia #mha tokoyami #tokoyamifumikage #tokoyami #tokoyami fukimage #tsuyu #tsuyu asai #tsuyu x fumikage

[derekscorner]

When relevancy goes too far

Relevancy is a bit of a complex topic the more you think about it. How far do you push it? Which parts of a story are needed to know the other? How should something define the follow up? These questions have widely different answers depending on the person and especially depending on format.

Hell, if you wish to nit pick it further, even the series in question is a factor. Some series’ thrive on whats done while others drown in their own scripts. I believe Kingdom Hearts is one of the latter.

That said, I am not someone who hates KH’s expanded stories simply for existing. The “side games” in of themselves aren’t bad nor is the idea of using such things to expand a world. The same could be said for game novels or comics in my opinon.

However, these things can be a slippery slope or a lazy exist. For example, Assassin’s Creed threw out it’s whole Juno arc into a comic just to get it out of the way which completely shattered my investment.

In turn, Nomura himself isn’t at fault for as much as we bash him for. Something he’s admitted himself as seen here;

So, the new Days is one of the three titles announced in the Autumn of 2007 as new projects in the KH series.

Nomura: Those three titles were all announced at the same time, but in reality the opportunities for the projects were raised in a disjointed way. Birth by Sleep is a project that was raised within our company, but Days is from Nintendo, and coded is from Disney, so we started by talking to each of them.

-source <--Link btw

And anyone that’s read interviews out of curiosity will know that there’s also factors like how ‘Birth By Sleep’ was shifted from PS2 to PSP or that ‘Chain of Memories’ wasn’t a planned title either. (seen here)

So if these things aren’t inherently bad or planned that begs the question of why it’s a problem here? At least in my opinion of the series.

The answer is simple and it lies solely on Nomura’s shoulders for it as a fault, relevancy. The man goes out of his way to make each and every game, concert, or otherwise is attached to the series in some meaningful way going forward.

Naturally, any expanded media is tied to the main narrative in some way. I know this, I am not that foolish. The problem is that Nomura makes them plot relevant going forward.

These titles can’t be true “side games” because they dictate the story going forward in some way. It’s for this reason the more radical fans hate to hear the terminology “side game” to begin with.

This problem was especially bad for years because of how spread out the series became among other gaming systems. And while some like to say it’s fine now due to the collection discs I dont think this will last long given the “phase 2″ images released for KH’s near future.

Hell, I’d even argue this problem isn’t even fixed in truth because the current KH story involving Foretellers, Luxu, and so on is all things spun from a mobile game. Yes, you have to sit through scenes on YT or play a mobile game to fully grasp that cat creature (Chirithy) you saw in KH3.

Naturally, it’s much easier to watch the scenes on YT these days but that also feeds into the loop of not paying for the game itself. I personally see no issue with it but companies are much worse in recent years for shutting down Youtube channels over loose definition of “piracy”.

No game series is worth several consoles. Of course, I’m just speaking from experience, with KH now on the Xbox this may be a moot point in a few years.

I am rambling, off track, lets focus. “Why is this an issue?” is what you’ve read this far for me to explain. The biggest issue with this poor decision making is how it harms the main narrative you’re telling.

For comparison, look at Sora in KH3. He’s often confused by people he doesn’t remember meeting or events he doesn’t remember nor took part in. This is roughly close to what it would be like for someone that’s only played KH1, 2, and 3.

Sora has that same level of insight including what he was told about others like Roxas or Aqua but other characters in-game. This feeds into KH’s misconceived air of complexity.

Kingdom Hearts, as a story, isn’t that complex. It has deeper themes it throws to the wayside but it is easy to follow if you play most games in some form. This ties back into how the series was handled up until the PS4/KH3.

Ever want to know who Roxas was in KH2? Well you had to play Days or you can sit through that horribly boring 3 hour movie on the Remix disc. Even then, the Roxas you see in Days wont be like the one in KH2.

Wish to know who Xehanort was? Play Birth by Sleep! All three campaigns with little variance. Then once you’re done get ready to sit on YT or download a phone app and play Kingdom Hearts Dark Road.

The Foretellers, Luxu, or the Master of Masters? That’s another set of hours, if not days, with the KH Union X Cross, KH Dark Road, and should you choose you can even watch the Back Cover movie which answers nothing at all but shows you the Foretellers in Kh3 graphical glory.

You wish to know how Namine knew who The Lingering Will was? Well dig up a fan translation of a script the Japanese voice cast read for a music concert event. (yes that happened)

You can see where this is going I assume and this is just scratching the surface by the way. You wish to know the finer details like Keyblade types, the inconsistent time traveling, “recompletion”, and so on then be prepared to read word of god interviews, in-game dictionaries/journals and always be ready for a few to change.

Whether it’s a true retcon or just an ambiguous statement, the series is ongoing, Nomura heads the ship, and he is by no means obligated to stick to previous statements if he can make a new one to alter those events.

Then again, holding too much weight in words said outside the game itself is a faulty way of doing things that most fans (like me) have fallen victim too at least once.

At the same time, all of these things are relevant by Nomura’s decision. Sure, the remixes have fixed this to a degree but it’s anyone’s guess for how long. Better yet, at what cost did the remixes fix anything?

The best example of what I mean is Coded. It was originally a game for phones. At the time, only Japan had a phone capable of playing it. Feeling that a shame the game later found it’s way to the DS for all fans to play.

At this point in time Coded was the only true example of a “side story”. It was by no means necessary. The whole datascape plot was more convoluted than it needed to be despite data!Sora being far better than the original at this point, and easy to miss.

But...well that was good. The DS version of Coded was fun as hell to play. The only version of the “command deck system” I’d consider worth any semblance of praise. It did it’s job of getting some level of fans invested such as my friend @blackosprey​ and it’s story was missable.

You did not need to play Coded to understand Dream Drop Distance or further. This was perfect. This is what games like Days, KH Chi/UX, 0.2, and DDD should’ve been.

Games that reached out to grab new people, games that played around, and games that expanded on the main narrative without dictating it’s direction. A side game is something that exists alongside or outside your main story.

However this isn’t what we got. 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage was a short sequel to BBS but also a pretty tech demo for KH3. Dream Drop Distance was there to show the real Sora that people needed help and to show us that Xehanort was back.

KH Chi was a browser game meant to show the Keyblade War and how it shaped Sora’s era. Now it’s an ongoing curse on the series with time traveling plot that affected KH3 directly.

Coded was made into a movie you needed to sit through thanks to one small newly added scene. Days lost many small interactions it’s fans loved in the transition to a movie that is hard to sit through.

I’ve also heard KHDDD and 0.2 were “shaved off” KH3 in a sense to be their own titles...this...this makes so little sense.

Nomura calls KH “Sora’s story” but this is a lie. If it truly was Sora’s story then your main narrative would be BBS, KH1, CoM, 2, and the original combined form of KH3. That’s the titles he’s relevant, those are the titles he stops Xehanort’s plans.

These other titles could’ve been so fun but none of them were truly allowed to breath and be themselves. They were weakened and limited by Nomura deciding to prop the ongoing story upon them like they’re stilts.

Then as a result you can’t close out KH3 without resolving all of these other events and characters which drags it’s own story down. KH3 feels all over the place because it is. It’s trying to tie as many knots as it can from threads created in titles that were way more relevant then they needed to be.

Kh3 can be seen as a clean break for many but I see it as a matter of time. KHUX and now KHDR are still there casting a shadow, dictating what comes next. Melody of Memory is one of several games planned for an unknown but hopefully more thought out direction.

I worry I haven’t explained what I meant well enough but moral of my story is that making things too relevant hurts not only your main story but these new stories you wish to explore.

You can’t have a story and it’s cast breath if you’re tying a knot of mythos too tightly around their necks and this is a tragedy to me. KH began life with such potential but it constantly holds itself back because so few entries into it’s story are truly just an entry.

And I am not saying games can’t follow up one another nor that they shouldn’t. What’s needed is a clear idea and some breathing room. A good example would be to save people in Days with the game DDD. DDD could’ve wiped away some clutter to focus on the final Xehanort battle in a sense.

Nomura has a huge problem with wanting connectivity without letting games be connected by the name alone. It’s like he wants to do the opposite of what Final Fantasy has done but to detrimental results.

This harms so much but worst of them it hurts development. Because Days was made so important, we had a movie made. Because Coded was elevated, a movie was made. Because the keyblade war was so popular, Union Cross was made.

The Remixes would’ve been better to consolidate lore not waste time trying to appease every whim. KH’s relevancy is a huge problem and I doubt it’ll stop any time soon.

#kingdom hearts #kh3 #khdr #kingdom hearts melody of memory

[dokidoki-tae]

Hotel Fun

I was talking to some moots ( @honeyvibin and @honeyduu ) on a GC and things got spicy when they brought up an amusing article. 

So here is some Prosciutto x Fem! Reader lewd content. 

You rubbed your temple in an attempt to avert a probable and fitting migraine as the airline flight attendant explained that due to your first flight being delayed meant you missed your second flight to your next destination. God, how you hated connecting flights. You’ve had your fair share of nightmarish airline stories, but one too many could cause anyone to lose their mind It didn’t help that the attendant seemed insincere when she apologized for what as clearly the airline’s fault.

But your reaction was nothing compared to the man standing several feet next to you, yelling and berating the unlucky attendant who looked like he was face-to-face with death. Turning your head slightly to glance at the scene, a man with immaculate and intricate styled blond hair and a well-pressed suit was barking insults at the worker, pointing an accusatory finger at his face as he looked down at his computer screen in fear and shame.

“I don’t give a shit about your apologies! Solve this problem immediately. It’s not my fault you imbeciles overbooked! Like hell, I’m going to miss my flight just because you’re incompetent.” He spat. It seems he was having his own issues. You’d be pretty pissed if you arrived to be told you couldn’t get on your flight.

Just to the side of him, several feet away, there was a group of men laughing and snickering at the blond man’s expense. The scene was attention-grabbing, taking your mind away from the woman speaking and assisting you, finding yourself agreeing to terms you didn’t 100 percent catch.

“Thank you for your understanding,” the attendant said with a monotone, typing rapidly and providing you with a solution to your problem, giving her an “uh-huh”. Both the argument next to you and your exhaustion left your mind hazy and commonsense nonexistent. Resting your arms on the counter, you lay your head in the middle as the attendant continued to type away and make a quick phone call. From what you could catch, it seems she was arranging a hotel room to stay in until you could get on a flight tomorrow afternoon but everything after was white noise. At this point, you weren’t going to fight it.

The yelling from before had subsided as well, only the occasional comment dripping with venom from the irate blond man. If he had calmed, it seemed like they had provided him an answer to his solution. [Good], you thought. If it went on any longer, he was going to be the cause of your migraine.

“Ma’am, I managed to book a hotel room with one of our partner companies. They have a room available for the night until you can get in your new flight tomorrow afternoon,” she explained, sounding more cheerful now than before, content that she’ll be able to move on to the next customer.

[Great]

“However,” she began. You lifted your head, making eye contact with the worker.

[Shit]

“As I explained you will be sharing a room with another customer.” Your mouth opened but nothing came out, making it an awkward staredown between you and the worker.

“Wha? When did you say this?” You finally raised your voice, clearly surprised at what you thought was new information.

“I explained it to you several minutes ago, Ma’am,” she said curtly. “You were probably distracted by the gentleman yelling at my coworker.” She gave you a thin, mocking smile as she tilted her head slightly. There was a layer of amusement in her expression.

“You expect me to share a room with a stranger?” Your blood was beginning to boil. Maybe the blond man had the right idea in yelling at their negligence. Biting the inside of your cheek, you waited for her to give you another answer.

“There is nothing else I can do for you, ma’am. This is the only available room they have left,” she elaborated. “It’s a busy season, and they were sold out. This was a room they had on hold in case of an emergency such as this one.” She didn’t move, telling you that she couldn’t do much beyond this. You felt like screaming, but the feeling died in your lungs to be replaced with a sigh.

“Alright,” you accepted the last resort. This was not the ideal situation you wanted to find yourself in but there wasn’t much you could do. “Do you have information on the person I’ll be sharing the room with?” It was important to know to prepare yourself mentally, praying that the person wasn’t a weirdo or creep.

“Ah yes,” she chirped, “the man standing over there.” She pointed to the blond man, now standing alone with a collective rage clear on his face and talking (yelling?) on the phone with someone several feet away. His friends must have gotten on the plane, leaving him behind. You choked on your spit at the revelation and fear for yourself. You were supposed to share a room with this harsh and serious man? When you whipped your head back to the attendant, she flashed you a gleeful smile, clearly finding this amusing. You bit your bottom lip to prevent you from saying something regretful and composed yourself once again.

“Is this a joke?”

“We are a serious business, ma’am. I would never joke.” You furrowed your brow and buried your face in your palm, trying to fight the tears building.

[Just one night.]

“When can I get to my hotel room?” You sighed and accepting ____________________________________________________________

At least the airline was thoughtful enough to get you separate taxis to your hotel. You hadn’t spoken to the man while you waited, choosing to keep your distance. You’d have to spend an unnecessary amount of time together to begin with. To you, there was no reason to add more to it. Thinking back at his reaction to his flight issue, he must be a grating person in other ways too, and you were not looking forward to it to say the least.

When a worker announced that one of the taxis arrived early, he stood up without a word and claimed it for himself. Though you weren’t a woman who expected men to be chivalrous just because you were a woman, there were still moments men acted gentlemanly and courteously. This man was not like that and didn’t look your way once. You were taken aback because you at least expected him to say, “I’m taking this one” like a decent person would. But there was nothing. Like you were not worth his time.

Ten minutes later, the second taxi arrived, and the driver assisted you with your luggage. The ride there was peaceful, making light conversation with the driver who was sympathetic with your situation. At least someone had empathy about all of this.

Upon arriving, you walked cautiously around the property until you found the front desk and welcomed by the chipper receptionists.

“Good evening,” one greeted warmly, leading you to her to help you. “How are you? Do you have a reservation?”

You explained to her your situation and immediately understood what process came next, making the check-in process quick and efficient. While she worked on your reservation, she explained that there was no need to worry about paying for meals or incidentals as the airline was covering all expenses. The only thing she asked for is an ID to confirm your identity. So far, the time spent getting here was positive, having a good taxi driver and hotel receptionist to calm your nerves.

“Here is your room key,” she slid you a small envelope with a card inside. “Just slide it and you’ll be let in. The other guest has a key of his own.” Oh, right. You had to share. There was an obvious dissatisfied look on your face and the receptionist gave you a sympathetic look. “I should say, we do have 24-hour security,” she added in quickly probably to reassure you and your safety. “Now, here is where you will be located.” She pulled out a map and gave a clear and straightforward direction to get to your room.

There was the temptation to be polite and knock, but this was your room too! And he was rude earlier! You don’t owe him anything! With a grumble, you reasoned that it was a shared space and there was no problem just walking in.

[What is he’s changing?] The thought flashed into your head, a panic bubbled, but you already pushed the door open. When the door swung open, you had anticipated a cliché scene where you encounter a handsome man stripping off his shirt, but for you, it was a handsome man resting on the bed with hard grimace seemingly permanent on his face, remoting in hand, looking at you.

“Do you lack basic manners that you can’t knock?” He insulted.

Flabbergasted, your mouth hung open before you huffed and piece together a sentence. “This is my room too.” You said under your breath. You carried your things in and threw them on the floor as the man’s eyes continued to linger and survey you as you did your best to avoid his stare. Awkwardly, you pretended to rummage for something through your luggage, to look preoccupied and distracted so he wouldn’t talk to you, but you could still feel him staring. 

There was not much you could do, so with a groan you zipped up your bag and stood and looked around the room, using that to avoid further talks. Upon inspection, you realized there was one bag, speeding across the room and looking through the other doors, expecting for there to be another room with a sofa sleeper or a twin bed or something. One single king bed?

“It seems you’ve caught on,” he spoke. “You lack observation skills,” he insulted, earning him a glare from you which he accepted with a sneer.

“There has to be some mistake,” you claimed, and he laughed.

“There is no mistake.” He leaned back and turned his attention to the tv and continued. “It was explained at the airport by those imbeciles.” His demeanor was considerably calm compared to what you saw at the airline, now replaced with an air of smugness and arrogance; it made you grumble in annoyance frustration. He furrowed his brows at you.

“Don’t tell me you agreed and came all the way here not know all of that?” You felt your face start to heat up at his rhetorical question; he hit the nail on the head. “Incredible. . .” he sighed, choosing to ignore you once again in favor of the tv. ___________________________________________________________

The rest of your evening was lackluster and uneventful. In your time, you had managed to learn the man was named Prosciutto and that he was from Italy. He gave no last name or anything about why he was traveling. Out of politeness, you gave him your first name only too, but he seemed to stop listening after that. Based on his behavior, he was not a man who enjoyed social interaction. He gave short, curt answers when you made small talk, earning yourself eye-rolls and glares from him. It worked your nerves and patience. How could a man like this actually exist?

You tried to bring up possible hobbies and movies, but he shut you down. At some point, he asked, “Do you ever shut up?” And it kept you quiet the rest of the night, clearly hurt.

As the sunset and stars appeared, he stepped out of the bathroom dressed rather handsomely you regretted to admit, you couldn’t help but stare. A nicely pressed suit, dark that it made his pale skin gleam when contrasted against the darker jacket [Maybe it was body glitter?]. Underneath he wore a royal blue, silk dress shirt both of which were opened considerably to expose his chest, his yellow pendant only drawing your attention to his chest. His hair was an immaculate as ever, similarly as your indirect airport encounter. His eyelashes were clearly coated with mascara, and it was obvious he used a subtle gloss to make his lips pop.

[I hate him]

“W-where are you going?” Curiously got the better of you, asking him with a clearly flushed face.

“Dinner. If the airline is paying for everything, I’m going to milk it for what it’s worth,” he said shamelessly. He checked himself in the mirror and fixed his cuffs before heading out, never offering an invitation. With a grumble, you decided to order room service. You were going to milk this off schedule trip too!

You watched tv alone, finally loosening up and relaxing, laughing freely at the movie you found surfing the television channels and enjoying a hearty dinner and a mouth-watering slice of chocolate mousse cake for dessert. As the night progressed, dread start to set in when it dawned on you that you’d have to share a bed with this man. What made everything worse is that your body was clearly attracted to him. He had good looks despite a shit personality. You groaned when you found yourself daydreaming about this man spooning you in our sleep while watching the movie. Despite your secret desire, you hoped he kept to himself until you parted ways.

Prosciutto has still not returned by the time you tucked yourself into bed, making it midnight. Initially, you were worried but tucked it away by concluding that he’s either 1. Enjoying his night out or 2. Found someone to spend the night with leaving you with a bed all our own aka enjoying his night out in another way. __________________________________________________________

A hiss and hushed curses brought you out of your sleep, half-dazed and eyes heavy. In your blurred vision, you watched as Prosciutto stagger as he removed his jacket and dress shirt, his posture and movements indicating he was a tad inebriated. You thought nothing of it, too tired to be aroused by his half-naked body, choosing to close your eyes upon realizing it was 3 am, shifting to make yourself comfortable again. You ignored Prosciutto when he threw himself on the bed, making our body jump from the rebound. You were about to turn and tell him off until you heard harsh snores from him. This man was insufferable, but you decided to be mature and waited until sleep was heavy enough to let you ignore it. It was successful. __________________________________________________________

A low moan next to your ear had been your morning alarm. First, you blinked, several times, waiting for your eyes to adjust and vision to sharpen. But your eyes shoot open and you awaken instantly both from the noise, hot breath on your ear and a warm body pressed against your back. Sometime in the night, Prosciutto had managed to snake his arms around your body, pulling you to him and putting you in a spooning position where you were the little spoon.

In your attempt to wiggle free, you felt it. You felt something poking your ass, and you let out a choked gasp. He was hard and pressed it against you, feeling him jerk his hips slightly for some friction. You freeze, stiff as a board, entire body burning and sweating. You pressed your lips together, tight, in an attempt to keep your whimpers from escaping. You knew you had to wake him, but you dreaded how’d he reacted. What if he got mad and took it out on you? You were in a rational state, but millions of thoughts and screams worked to distract you. In your frantic state, you felt him grind his hips against you, breathing an airy moan into your ear and sending a jolt of pleasure to your groin, making it pulsate.

[Oh My GOD!]

Foolishly, you tried to wiggle free again, hoping you could escape without him noticing, but he pulls you into a tighter embrace and near impossible to break free. For several minutes, you laid there, waiting for him to let you go, debating whether to pretend to sleep so he thinks you weren’t aware of what happened. It became increasingly difficult to ignore, finding his hand enveloping your breast giving it several gentle squeezes.

[This motherfucker is awake, isn’t he?] You felt a vein pop in your forehead and a growl rumbled in your throat, but you gasp when Prosciutto jerked his hips against you again. This time it was different. Before he did it inconsistently, but now he was grinding his morning wood against you frantically. You panicked and called his name, now jerking in his arms to get away from him.

“H-Hey! Prosciutto! W-Wake up!”

But things had ended quickly. A guttural groan left his lips followed by with a sigh, his hot breath making your core ache, his thrusts settling. You lay still, feeling violated and embarrassed, waiting for him to let you go when you hear him hiss “shit” and push you away hard, landing on the floor with a thump.

“Y-you damn bitch!” He stammered out, and you jumped to your feet and pointed to him, trembling with anger with the intention of giving him a piece of your mind. His face was beet red, sweat dripping down his face, hair disheveled. The resisted the urge to laugh when you noticed the way he shifted uncomfortably and awkwardly to his feet. He clearly came in his pants. Instead of harsh words, only fits of nervous giggled escaped, observing him as he shook with embarrassment. “You did this on purpose!” He accused.

You recoiled, giggles dying. You gapped at him and wagged your finger at him. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me! You’re the one who was holding on to me! I’m the victim here! You obviously got off on the whole thing! You-you pervert!” You defended. Embarrassment was clearly marked on your face too but seeing him humiliated too was worth it all. Damn, jerk!

He bit his bottom lip, bringing emphasis to an overbite you hadn’t noticed before. You could tell he was at a loss for words, maybe he realized he was actually at fault? Without another word to you, he waddled to his suitcase and grabbed his suitcase and dragged it to the bathroom to clean himself off. It was only 6am, but you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep. This was too awkward. Your flight was not for another 6 hours, so all you could do is wait and absorb what had just occurred in silence. You thought of making some coffee, but you were in stupefied and inappropriately aroused state, staring at the ceiling was your only viable action.

An hour later, Prosciutto had stepped out of the bathroom, looking clean and fresh, tempting you to make a quip. From the way the tip of his ears was red, you can tell he was still embarrassed. He couldn’t look at you at all as he grabbed his suitcase tidy and organize it. Part of you felt bad, but you pushed any kind of developing guilt to the back of your mind. It wasn’t your fault after all. With nothing else to do and silence being too unsettling, you decided to shower yourself. Searching through your bag, you took out your toiletries and comfortable but fashionable clothing to wear on the plane. On your way to the bathroom, Prosciutto cough and cleared his throat grabbing your attention.

“I-I’m going to grab some breakfast and coffee, would you like anything?” His tone was apologetic and strangely pleasant. Admittingly, your heart skipped at his thoughtful question, a light blush dusting your cheeks. Shamefully, the wetness between your legs became more apparent.

“A-A cup of coffee with some cream and sugar would be nice,” you uttered meekly, finding yourself shy. He acknowledged you with a hum. He was still organizing his suitcase by the time you entered the shower. 

As you let the hot water caress your body, you let your hands slip to more intimate areas, using your left hand to massage and glide over your nipples, pinching them slightly and the other rub circles on your clit. In a short time, you felt dirty and stopped, chiding yourself for being indecent. You should be showering. Reaching for you little toiletry bag, you noticed the conditioner wasn’t in there, it must have fallen into your suitcase. Being very picky about the kind of hair care products you use, you step out the shower, grab the towel and use it to lazily over your body.

Having spent a moderate amount of time in the shower, you deduced Prosciutto had gone to get breakfast. In that time, you could quickly go and grab the conditioner bottle. Carefully, you step to the door and peek out, in case Prosciutto was still there when your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. 

Your mouth dropped and went dry as you watched Prosciutto work and stoke his cock using a pair of (your?) panties in the process. He was resting his back against the headboard, his legs wide open to give himself better access. Watching him, the way he gritted his teeth and how clenched his eyes shut; how his head was thrown back, showing off his bobbing Adam’s apple and letting out a breathy but narrowly silent moan, enough that it could be concealed by the running of the shower. His entire look, his cock pulled out while still wearing his outfit? It was hot. Your core ached, demanding attention.

instinctively, you step out more to get a better look, making the door squeak and drawing his attention. You lock eyes, noticing the lust glazed over his eyes. His stare as hard and unyielding, this time no embarrassment was evident. Taking a breath and building courage, you walked to him, pulling your towel to better cover you and stood next to him.

He looked up at you, waiting on you to say or do something.

“S-scoot over,” you stammered, and he did without a word, allowing you to sit, your legs hanging off the edge. You hesitated when you reach over to wrap your hand around his length, unsure if that was what he wanted.

“G-go ahead,” he breathed, giving you his consent. You swallowed the saliva building in your mouth when your hands wrapped around his cocking, feeling him twitch. You curiously smooth your thumb over a distinct vein, causing him to thrust in your hand. You rubbed your legs together and lick your lips before continuing. As you worked up and down his cock, his precum dripped down and coated your fingers acting as a lubricating and making his easier to stimulate his cock. Lust quickly began to consume you, bringing your hand to your groin and rubbing circles over the towel for some pressure.

Noticing, Prosciutto moved further into the bed and directed you to lay on top entirely. As you sat next to him, he pulled the towel off of you, leaving yourself bare and exposed. He grabbed you by your thigh and pushed your legs open giving him full access to your sopping cunt. 

Following your example and listening to his primal instinct, he used two fingers to glide over your folds, your essences already coating his fingers when he had yet to even enter you. You rewarded him with a whimper. 

Before he entered a finger, he gave a considerable amount of attention to your clit and the sensitive nerves surrounding it. Every now and then, he would teasingly graze a finger over your cunt, making you whine and stop your own actions. Your breathing grew heavy as he rubbed and pressed on your sensitive bud when you embarrassingly squealed the more, he traced circles on you.

You felt like you were going to short circuit, using your mouth to cover each and every cry that wanted to escape. For the first time, Prosciutto called your name, so you turned and brought you into a sloppy, messy kiss while you simultaneously fucked each other with your fingers. 

Immediately, he pushed two fingers in, feeling your walls throb around him, pulling in and out of you and using his palm to put pressure against your sensitive bud. It was over for you when he curled his two fingers while knuckles deep, sending a jolt of pleasure throughout your body, coating his hand with your juices. You clung to him and trembled, impulsively clasping your legs shut while your road out your orgasm.

When you finally regulated your breathing, pulling back to look up at him. He looked into your eyes, relaxed and soft; he was much more handsome then he is with that scowl. His lips ghosted over yours whispering words of praise and pressing foreheads together.

“You looked so good, bella,” he whispered. “I want to know what other expressions and noises you can make.” He closed the distance and kissed you again, nibbling on your lip. In the moment, you went back to work him into his own orgasm, craving and needing to see him shoot strings of his cum onto your hand and hopefully his chest. You didn’t want to be the only one.

Pulling away from his kiss, you concentrated on your own hand movement, observing how the head of his cock turned redder by the second. He laughed at your concentrated look before hissing.

“Just a bit more, bella.” He jerked his upward, adding his own friction. With guidance, he wrapped his hand over yours, enveloping it. Your efforts were rewarded, your eyes remained transfixed as long white ribbons painted your hand and his exposed stomach and unfortunately his clothing.

You questioned whether you should, but you cuddled intimately against his body, hoping he wouldn’t push you away considering what had just occurred. Your stomach was doing flipflops registered you both have just done with complete strangers. Your heart beat faster and felt your backache from panic. You knew you shouldn’t be concerned with the opinion’s others held, but you dreaded the thought of Prosciutto thinking less of you.

After composing himself, he must have noted your panic and wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, kissing your forehead and calming you down.

“Bella, you did well,” he smirked at you, his overconfidence surfacing once more but quickly gave you a softer smile. There was silence between you, making your body tense, but he helped you relax. “I didn’t expect things to turn out like this.” He kissed your forehead again and then pecked your lips.

“I-It was fun.” You blushed and giggled. All the stress from the previous day seemed to vanish slowly.

“Admittedly, yesterday I was pissed because of the whole flight issue,” he confessed, rubbing soothing circles on your hip. He went on to tell you that he was on a business trip here and needed to get back home soon. He went on to apologize for being rude to you upon arrival, explaining he needed time to himself to calm himself.

He didn’t go into much detail, but the butterflies in your stomach only got worse. He was a much different man now than before. So much more appealing and charming. Calmer and …. domesticated? You couldn’t help but think of that one song with the lyrics “Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil” as he talked. You hide your laughs with coughs, Prosciutto rubbing your back soothingly until you were okay.

While you talked and shared, something caught your eye and watched as Prosciutto started to get hard again. Shamelessly, you licked your lips, staring as he pumped himself once more, giving you a show. He leaned and nipped at your ear and whispered in his sultry voice, “We still have several hours until our flight, amore. Perhaps we can use this time to relax and destress before our long flights?”

Smiling cheekily, you rub your legs together, feeling yourself quiver for something more filling then Prosciutto’s fingers, and nodding eagerly. Prosciutto chuckled, moving off to pull out a box of condoms, working off his clothes, leaving you both bare. You laid on your back as he caged you with his strong arms, making you feel weak and turned on.

“Bella, I can’t wait to see how pretty your face is when I fuck the brains out of you,” he growled, kissing your lips before getting started. It’s definitely going to be a well-needed treatment after all you went through yesterday.

#prosciutto #jjba #vento aureo #my writing #reader insert #n/s/f/w

[radchaai-latte]

This isn’t really a “theory”, in the sense that I think it’s a direction the show is actually going to take things, and I’m sure someone’s brought it up at some point before, but there’s a thought that keeps recurring to me, basically ever since 134.

(Since I have yet to do a full relisten, and I listened to most of the episodes for the first time while at work, it’s very possible that something’s come up that makes all of this moot, even for a crack idea, and I just missed it...)

134 is when we learned that the End and the Web have never (to Peter’s knowledge) attempted a ritual.  According to Peter, both have a preference for the world the way it is in canon because it doesn’t matter to the End (so long as whatever world exists has entities capable of fearing their own death) and because the Web likes being able to manipulate things the way they are.

But that leads me to a question... if it’s possible for entities to choose not to have their followers attempt a ritual, why would the Beholding want its own ritual to go down?  Because a lot of the fears of the Beholding require at least some, if not all, of the other powers in order to function at optimal capacity.  

(More under the cut because this got a bit long...)

Maybe I’m missing something, but the fear of being watched/having your secrets exposed is not usually motivated out of, well, the fear of being seen, full stop.  Because some people are scared of their secrets being revealed because they believe it will make their loved ones shun them (Lonely) or because they believe they could be used to manipulate them (Web), maybe they’re afraid of being tracked down for some reason (Hunt), etc.  

Moreover, if the Beholding is the infinite drive to know more, regardless of the cost to oneself, what world could be better for that than the one that exists in canon right now?  There’s so much unknown to explore and catalogue, and so many dangers and things to be afraid of in the process.  Having things like the Dark, the Stranger, and the Vast is beneficial to the Beholding because they inherently cannot be fully known, and, thus, must be eternally quested after at great personal risk.

Not to mention the fact that the Eye apparently literally feeds off of the experiences the other powers enact on people.  That makes sense if it’s also the fear of something watching you suffer for its own amusement, but it doesn’t explain what the Beholding would get out of its ritual that it doesn’t currently have.

And, I absolutely do not trust that the Web has no interest in its ritual.  Unlike the End, which, as Peter points out, gets everybody eventually, the Web has to at least do some work for its prey.  It could definitely get something out of a world where people were more easily manipulated or had more to fear from manipulation (and spiders) or whatever would happen if its ritual were completed.  

And, in all honesty, Peter isn’t the most reliable narrator in regards to anything the Web.  He’s an avatar of the Lonely.  What does he really know?  He assumes that the Web hasn’t attempted a ritual because it likes the world as-is, but assuming anything about a power that is blatantly associated with manipulation seems like just about the worst plan anybody could possibly have.

So, alright.  Maybe the Web doesn’t have a ritual it intends to enact, or maybe it does and it’s just keeping it on the down low so no nosey Archivists step in and blow it up.  Makes sense.

This is where my brain gets over excited and goes a little off the rails, because I can’t stop thinking about the connections between the Archives and the Web.

There have been a lot of theories about the recorders being Web-aligned, rather than Beholding-aligned.  Jon’s first encounter with the fears was in relation to the Web.  Martin loves spiders to the point that Web!Martin is a popular fandom idea.  Jon carries a web lighter.  The table that housed the NotThem (and was therefore, by proxy, protecting the archival staff from it) was of the Web.  There are a number of theories about Jon having to collect a scar/experience from every power in order to bring about the Watcher’s Crown, and the Web seems to be playing both sides of that fight... although, by (seemingly) brining the Flesh to the Institute, it did lead to Jon losing a pair of ribs to Jared, so who knows what that really means.

(Not to mention, Gertrude mentioned being able to recommend a statement-giver the name of a good psychologist and now Melanie is seeing someone in that capacity who certainly wants to use a recorder, and Annabelle Cane was a psych student, I think, or at least was aware enough of psych experiments, as a student, to participate in a rather frightening and long-term one... it’s all very coincidental, if it’s not directly connected.)

Basically, for the Beholding’s seat of power, there’s a lot of Web stuff going on.  Like, down in the coffin, it was the Buried and only the Buried, as far as we saw.  But the Archives have lots of Web stuff and, unlike when other powers attack the place, nobody seems particularly interested in even trying to kick the spiders out.

And, you know who an archive would be really good for?  Someone who needs/wants a record of past information in order to use it for future gain.  Say, in order to manipulate someone.

Elias’ demonstrated powers include seeing things remotely (which he uses... to manipulate people) and implanting experiential memories into people’s heads (which he uses...... to manipulate people).  Jon’s demonstrated powers are having “weird” body parts (whatever that means), manifesting tapes (maybe), and pulling information out of people’s heads, sometimes so hard it kills them (which he generally doesn’t do on purpose but, one very notable time when he did, he immediately used the information he got out of it for blackmail).  All I’m saying is, their powers definitely make sense for the concept of being able to “watch” and “know” the world, and strike fear with those abilities, but... they also make sense in terms of being extremely useful as methods of working out exactly how to make someone do as you tell/blackmail/ask them to.

We currently believe that there are fifteen fears, because Smirke came up with a list of fourteen and we’ve added the Extinction to that.  But when Gerry talks about it, he talks in terms of colours.  Why isn’t pink a shade of red, when pale blue is just another shade of blue?  Which mirrors what Leitner said about all of them being part of something incomprehensibly large, like a human sticking multiple appendages into an ant hive.  So Smirke labeled the fears where he thought the labels ought to go, and everybody goes along with it because it’s handy, but just because Smirke saw distinctions doesn’t mean that those distinctions necessarily exist on a cosmic level.

Before we had that list, there were ideas about the things that became known as the Web being the “active” component of the Beholding.  The things that went out and used the Beholding’s knowledge.

The fear of having your secrets revealed and turned against you.

And, what better trick?  Convince the entire world that your entire fear is, in fact, two smaller ones.  One that draws all the attention by being the annoying nerd who can’t stop asking questions (the Beholding) and the other that hangs out in the shadows, carefully pulling all the threads so everything works out just right (the Web).  Why bother informing an Archivist who is more comfortable with the limits of the Beholding than they might be with the Web (Jon, possibly also Gertrude) that the distinction between those powers isn’t real at all? 

(Though if the Web and the Beholding were one and the same, that could lead to a really fun payoff for Jared having Jon’s rib, where Jared turns up again, and it’s Jon who uses the fact that a part of him is inside the Boneturner to puppet him in some way.)

Also, the other, dumber reason that I keep thinking about this is because the Watcher’s Crown just makes me think of some sort of crown of eyes, and there are real life spiders with eyes arranged like that (a couple pictures of the peacock spider are in the link below-- I didn’t want to just add images to the post on the off chance that someone somehow made it through my ramblings to this point and didn’t want to be surprised with a sudden closeup of a spider). https://geyserofawesome.com/post/125967598482/peacock-spiders-are-awesome-creatures-theyre

tldr: I have a crack theory that I can’t stop thinking about which basically amounts to “the Beholding is fake news made up by the Web”.

#the magnus archives #tma #wash writes #this is probably dumb #tma spoilers #sorry forgot to add that since I guess I reference the new episode? #not sure I need to add that anyway #since it's been released to the general public #but still

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 9

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Grumpy | Leroy, Maurice | Moe French, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Merida (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Chapter 5]  [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]  [Chapter 8]

Chapter 9 - Ways and Means

Once she was past the moments of panic, then had shaken off the despondency, and had finally finished seething - which turned out to be good for the floor of the main entrance of the library, which she scrubbed from wall to wall until is shone, thanks to the energy of her anger - Belle found that she was able to think a little better.  She’d be damned if she was going to let the red tape that Regina Mills was trying to throw in her way derail her plans. Not now, when she’d come so far. So, a few minutes later she found herself standing outside the glass doorway of the office of one Doctor Archibald Hopper M.D. Psychiatrist. It wasn’t that she felt like she needed help with her mental health - except perhaps the stress that the Mayor was forcing on her - just that she believed that it would be the only way she could get the medical records released in sufficient time to meet the deadline.

She hated psychiatrists. Hardly surprising really given her past, and all that it had brought her, but she tried to tell herself that she shouldn’t tar them all with the same brush just because of their profession. Like librarians, she added mentally, We’re not all obsessed by silence and shushing.

She took a breath and pushed open the door, climbing the stairs to find herself outside another doorway, this one wooden.  For a moment she listened and unable to hear voices from inside she knocked and waited. After a moment the door was pulled open with rather more energy than she expected and gray suited, bespectacled man with a kindly face and seriously receding, red hair.

“Um… hi,” he said, and then apparently remembered to smile.

“Doctor Hopper?” she asked, and at his nod she added, “I’m… Belle Marchland, the new librarian?” she gestured behind herself as if the library was right there, and Doctor Hopper’s smile became a little wider.

“Yes, yes of course,” he said his voice as kind and soft as his face suggested it would be. “Won’t you come in?  Is… is there something I can help you with?”

She followed him into the office, glancing around at the comfortable looking couches and chairs, the coffee table, the fireplace and the file cabinets that lined the wall.

“Actually, yes,” she said folding her arms as she came to a halt, studiously avoiding the couch, or the chair… anything of the usual ilk that screamed ‘psychiatrist.’  “I was hoping you could.”

“Well,” he said gesturing to the couch, “Why don’t you take a seat and we can talk about it?”

“Oh no, no,” she said quickly, “Not like that.  You see, I said I’m the new librarian, but it’s not actually official yet, and the Mayor has kind of put… well… let’s just say she seems to want to make things difficult for me.”  She took a deep breath and then admitted, “A while back, in Boston, I was being treated at a hospital in Boston for a trauma related condition. I was discharged completely,” she added quickly, “but the Mayor is demanding to see the records, the discharge papers.”

Doctor Hopper frowned. “And is that a problem?” he asked, using a finger to push his glasses further up his nose.

“No, that’s not the problem,” Belle said, “just the amount of time she’s given me to get them.”

Hopper’s frown lifted as understanding dawned on his face. “Oh,” he said, “I… yes, I think I could probably help you with that.”  He nodded and turned toward one of the file cabinets which he opened up and began pulling out papers, “It would mean you’ll have to fill out some paperwork, and… and perhaps we should have an ‘initial consultation’ he said in a way that led Belle to believe that he was doing so in order to ensure that what passed between them would stay between them, and thus found herself warming to the man a little.  “Not that I have anything against the mayor,” he said then, handing her a clip board onto which he’d slipped the papers, “but… well, Regina can sometimes be a little rigid in her thinking, and so many of my patients have expressed how excited they are that the library will be opening again - which I imagine would be quite difficult without a librarian to run it.”

Belle smiled, and took the pen he offered, and then gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the couch as she said, “Thank you, Doctor Hopper.”

“Please,” he said kindly, “Call me Archie.  Can I offer you some tea?”

After another forty five minutes, Belle left the office with a little more hope in her heart than she had the previous hour, with assurances from the doctor that he would ensure that he would contact the Boston hospital as many times as it took for him to secure the paperwork by fax, and then he would let her know when she could come and collect it.  She thought it was probably the most positive experience she’d had with a psychiatrist in… well… ever.

The problem of the transcript was a more challenging one.  Yes, she could contact the University in Boston and request the transcript, even pay for a next day service, but that would mean her driving to Boston to collect it, and then driving back the following day to ensure she could meet Regina’s deadline.  It was doable, but it would mean a lot of toing and froing, late nights and early mornings.

She supposed that was the point.

Returning to the library, she pulled out her phone once more and made the call to the University in Boston and arranged to collect the sealed transcript by nine am the following day, at no little cost to her from her rapidly dwindling bank account.  Still it couldn’t be helped, and since she had already arranged for a number of things to happen that afternoon, she resolved that she would leave for Boston right after dinner that evening. She was utterly determined to signal to the mayor that she fully intended to comply with her unreasonable demands by continuing to work on making the library clean and tidy and ready for business.  That afternoon she had Leroy coming over to take down the rest of the boards from over the windows.

She was just about to start on cleaning another of the shelves when her phone rang.  She had forgotten that, before she’d finished freaking out that morning, she’d sent a hurried text to Ruby and that now her friend was calling her back to talk to her about it.

“What do you mean she’s wants the fucking paperwork?” Ruby said by way of a hello.

“Just that,” Belle sighed, shaking her head. “Marched in here as if she owned the place and demanded that I give her a signed transcript, and a copy of my discharge papers in the next forty eight hours or there would be no funding for the library.”

“Well I suppose she kind of does own the library really, it being a town building and all.”

“Um, no,” Belle said.  “You remember I told you that Leroy and his friends had arranged for me to take the lease…?  Well that’s not from the Town of Storybrooke.”

“Then who?” Ruby asked, and Belle could hear her frown.

“Someone called RG holdings,” Belle answered. “But it’s still a moot point if I can’t get the paperwork to the mayor’s office on time.”

“Because no paperwork, means no funding, and no funding, no job.” Ruby clarified.

“Yeah,” Belle said with a sigh.

“Well, then I suppose, at least, it’s good you haven’t signed it yet.”

“What?”

“The lease?”   Belle was uncertain what she should say.  She had signed the lease; had taken the responsibility for the library, and everything that came along with it. She left a long silence and telling silence. After the silence had stretched on longer than was comfortable Ruby groaned softly.  “Belle!” she all but sang. “What were you thinking !”

“That things were actually going right for once,” Belle snapped.  “And I will get past this Ruby, I have to.”  She sighed, and then took a breath.  “I’ll be in Boston tomorrow, at least for an hour or two.  I’m coming to collect my transcript.”

#rumbelle #fic #bookshop on the corner #angst #eventual smut

[chronicbatfictioner]

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 20

Thanks to Barbara and Dinah — and to no small extent, Diana Prince's — collective efforts; the news of Napier's death and investigation were kept to a minimal. As Barbara predicted, the local police had started with the more 'obvious' suspect: Jason. That, too, was kept out of the news. At least in Gotham.

When Jason was finally able — and allowed — to tell and reveal the things he remembered of the times following the accident, he was accompanied by Bruce, Barbara, and Dr Kent Nelson. The whole questioning by the police took part at the hospital, in Jason's room. Although Jason had asked for Tim to be there, too, Tim had to miss it - the police came at seven a.m.; clearly expecting Jason to be alone. None of them must have predicted Bruce and Barbara coming from the Wayne Tower penthouse - located right next to the hospital. Nor did they expect the insistence of Nurse Crystal Brown — Stephanie's mother — to not leave Jason unsupervised by an adult until Dr Kent Nelson arrived, mere minutes before Bruce and Barbara came in.

Jason's smile at Stephanie when Tim brought her in was majestic.

"Thanks for having your mom look out for me, Blond-- Steph." he said, quickly correcting himself.

Stephanie shrugged. "I told her it was you who'd gotten me to theater. All she said was not to follow your footsteps further." she grinned mischievously. "...and you still may call me Blondie. I liked having a nickname."

Jason laughed. "Ha! Yeah, I agree. I'd tell me not to follow my footsteps, too. But it would be kinda moot. Besides, this adventure is far from over, I think."

And oh, boy, was he right. Again, Tim had to give Barbara credit for somehow being able to manage the company while running an investigation under the radar.

They had eventually decided to hire Victor Sage, who had ended up interviewing Jason only with Tim present - by Jason's own consent. There was virtually no gaps from what Jason told Dr Nelson and the cops with what he'd told Sage.

Jason had recalled a few fights while he was somewhat unconscious, both involving Danny or Ellie; and Tim was certain that if Sage — or the cops, for that matter — would cross-check Jason's words against Danny or Ellie, they would corroborate the stories. Sage confirmed it a few days later, as he called with the report of having chatted with Danny and Ellie, and their mother.

What Sage brought along was the news that the local police had not come to either Danny, Ellie, or their mother. That, in Tim's mind, confirmed his suspicions that the cops would likely blame Jason for Napier's death, and blithely overlooking the underlying issue of Napier holding Jason prisoner and neglecting his injuries.

For the legal defenses, though, Barbara finally decided on Kate Spencer. Spencer, a former ADA of Gotham City before she 'crossed over to the other side' and became a Public Defender, was well known to be a ferocious defender of the wrongly accused. She was also known to flat out refuse to defend criminals or those she knew to be guilty. In spite of the numerous complaints from said criminals, she did not care, adamant on only defending the innocent.

"We need to come up with a different angle." she said when they gave her Sage's report.

"So relying on the lost street kid with daddy issue is no longer in the books?" Dick quipped.

"Definitely not. That might work for you, Grayson. But not in this case." Spencer said. "I would like your permission to dig through Wayne House's business deals." she directed the comment to Barbara.

"What are you looking for? I'm not going to forbid you from looking, just maybe I can help if I know what you're looking for." Barbara replied.

"That's what I don't know, actually. There could be something in the papers — finances, deals — that lead to Napier or, presumably, the person who wanted Napier dead. There has to be a cross in there somewhere. There is just no rhyme or reason why Napier would zoom in to Jason instead of Grayson here, for instance. Or maybe even to young Drake here - he's got some assets of his own that Napier could assimilate without much fanfare or effort."

Tim blinked as a schematic started to appear in his brain. "Oh, I think I know what you're looking for. The first question of a murder is not 'who did it', right? It's 'who benefits'." he said. "You want to see if anyone other than Napier would benefit from his own death."

Spencer glared at Tim with such intensity that Tim reflexively curled back into himself and kind of hide behind Jason. "You... I think you would've been a more beneficial hostage, but I can also see why you'll be more of an effort. You're smart..." she paused and looked at Jason. "not saying you're not, just..."

"No need to backtrack, lady, Timmy is a genius. Not smart. He'd seen a scheme from miles away even before anyone come close." Jason waved her off. They have decided on having the meeting in Jason's hospital room, and Jason was quite happy with it, he did not feel like he was being left out. But for Tim, the main reason would be the fact that Barbara has full control of all kind of surveillance devices within the hospital. If there is an anomaly - i.e. a bug or a hidden camera; she would know right away. "What scheme then, Timmers? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Jason prompted, prodding Tim to get out from behind him.

"I'm not sure yet.." Tim admitted reluctantly. "It's just... I thought it a bit-- kind of jumping the gun with the way Napier had built his scheme. He would not need to get you seen in LA's theater industry like he'd done. He would not need to make you visible in the industry, even by booking you the shows you've deemed to be small gigs. He could just get you there, and then ditch you, banking on the idea that you won't call Bruce to get you home out of shame for doing small gigs instead of 'major' LA shows." he explained.

"Even if he wouldn't call Bruce, Jay would've called me." Dick pointed out. "Or Babs, or you."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. Probably Dick, though - he owed me fifty bucks. Still owe me, actually." he said, pointedly ignoring Dick's dirty looks at him. "I'm not stupid enough to not know how to call collect." He added, maturely emphasizing his statement by sticking out his tongue at Dick. 

"Or he could've gotten you hooked to drugs or alcohol - quicker still even with you resisting." Tim pointed out. "I'm just reading out all kinds of scheme here - maybe more of the 'fallen angel' trope of Hollywood."

"I don't and won't do drugs, ever." Jason replied. Then he paused, looking at his IV line. "Okay, maybe once my pins are out, I'll stop. But this thing is prescribed." he added defensively, pointing at the IV.

"That's just saline, you only have painkillers when you go to sleep, and the next painkillers are on standby for physical therapy sessions." Barbara told him.

Jason glared at her in surprise. "What?? You mean I can ask for painkillers after physical therapies?? Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" he demanded.

"Well, you didn't look like you need it." Barbara pointed out. "They did give you one at night, didn't they?"

"I was miserable the whole day!" Jason protested.

"Guys? Focus?" Dick groaned. "Tim was giving us his theories here."

Jason pouted, but returned his glare to Tim. "Go on. I might be persuaded with alcohol, though. But turning someone to an alcoholic can't happen overnight."

"Right. Worst case, but simpler scenario, still, he could just trafficked Jason out of the country." Tim continued. "Instead he just drugged Jason and dumped him out of the way. I'm still not... clear on why."

"I think he just wanted to destroy Bruce." Jason shrugged. "I mean, we all know who Bruce's favorite son is." he added with an waspish grin toward Dick. "And by that I mean the one Bruce would move mountains for. Taking me would not make him move mountains."

"He would, too!" Dick protested. "But, anyway. Regardless of the 'why,' you're still not answering the 'who benefits' question." Dick reminded.

"That's just it. I can't see Napier benefiting much from destroying Bruce. If he wanted fortune, he could just... collaborate, maybe?" Tim mused.

"...on Burlesque shows?" Dick scoffed. "No offense, but he should've collaborated with the Kane House for that. Not us."

"I agree," Jason nodded. "So when did Kane House asked to join again?"

"You're not expecting Kane House to..." Dick gasped.

"Oh no, no. Just curious." Jason clarified. "I mean, I've told you before I left that at this rate, the only houses that would remain in Gotham would be the Wayne and Cobblepot--"

"That's it!" Tim suddenly exclaimed, startling Dick and Jason.

"Jeez, Tim, warn a guy!" Jason retorted.

"Sorry, guys. Just... that's just it. No one would benefit if the Wayne House is destroyed but two: Kane House or Elliott House." Tim said. "Kane House had opted to join Wayne House, due to their familial ties. Elliott House?"

"Mama Elliott have been whistleblowing that she would rather merge than vanish..." Barbara said. "But her son... not so much."

"I thought Tommy Elliott is a physician?" Jason said. "Why would he care for theaters?"

"I don't know. Buuut..." Dick shrugged. "It's the most... well... plausible thing I've heard."

"Right, so we'll bookmark that theory for now and look for supporting evidence." Spencer remarked. "I need to be in court in an hour, folks, so if you'll please excuse me."

They thanked Kate and ordered some Chinese food for their dinner - even after the protests of the nurses. Hey, Jason has problems with his legs, not his tummy. And he's a growing boy. Or so Jason claimed. Plus, it's not like he wouldn't eat the hospital food, anyway. Not even the threat of gaining too much weight to hinder his physical therapy session could deter him from eating.

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #JayTim #Barbara Gordon #Stephanie Brown #Kate Spencer #no-capeAU #SoulTheater!AU #BatFam #Victor Sage #Kent Nelson

[forgottenyear]

identities’ genders and gender identities

[tw: sexuality, rape (neither are necessarily described explicitly)]

I write mostly about the extant identity fragment and the boy identity from the set of identities that integrated to form me. I do not have a lot to work with to write about the ‘minor’ identities. The remaining ‘major’ identity is the girl.

I have blinks of memories from the girl identity, but not much more. The system was trying to move to her city to be around her friends (met online, at 1200 baud, if the reader is not already aware that I am a dinosaur). I try not to project imagined attributes onto her.

My mother (my name is not Norman, if you are beginning to worry)(I haven’t actually seen the movie, so I may be mis-referencing here)(but you get the idea, I hope)(“string staccato stab, string staccato stab, string staccato stab” loses far too much in the translation to text, so I should probably have abandoned this gag with the last parenthetic)(Anyway: My mother-) as much as stated her belief that girls are good and boys are bad. The girl identity was everything that was good, protected from the world, unsurprisingly since the boy was ‘everything that was bad,’ abused by the world.

Given that the rape was perpetrated by her ‘friends’ at a party in her city, the girl identity may have given her trust too freely. She may, alternatively, have been so desperate to make a go of it in her new city that she ignored the warning signs.

It is also possible that she never matured at pace with the body. She did not have a chance to prove herself one way or the other, but her plans appear naïve or more wishful than realistic.

I feel like the boy identity distrusted her ‘friends,’ but I may be projecting this into the thin memories of that time. The boy identity had misgivings around the new city, but I am only sure about the misgivings around the financial reality.

I have mostly impressions and feelings from her memories. I am wording this poorly though, because I have not found the words to describe how the identity fragment communicates. I think her communication was not entirely verbal. Which leads to the question of how she could communicate with the outside world, a question for which I have no adequate answers. [Rereading for editing, I now think maybe it is only our internal communication that is non-verbal. Although no one has reported communicating with the identity fragment when it fronts during an emergency, I cannot speculate about the girl identity.]

I know that the fiancée (an external person who never occupied this body – a phrase I never expected I may need to write) was, to retrospective appearance, almost predatory toward the girl identity. The fiancée assembled the girl identity’s wardrobe and makeup set. She would help the girl dress and then would have what appears, retrospectively again, to be angry sex with her. The memories do not feel like what I see in them, so it is uncomfortable to write about them. (The fiancée went on to encourage a friend to sleep with the boy/girl/system so she would have justification to leave for a new boyfriend. The friend in this case was caring and refused to take part in the plan, but the fiancée had already acted on her plans before learning this.)

I need to back off from this now, but the fiancée introduced the girl to her new ‘friends’ in the other city.

*

I need a break.

*

*

No. The fiancée only indirectly introduced the girl identity. It was not more nefarious than that. I do not want to run away with projecting suspicions onto the past.

*

The fiancée was no more aware of DID than the identities were. How a plurality of identities being unaware of DID is supposed to make sense is beyond me. It is one more nagging question – fodder for denial. In the memories, it is just ‘normal.’

But my memories of the girl identity seem to outnumber my memories from her.

She had two boyfriend’s.

The first ‘boyfriend’ was the one that the fiancée tried to talk into seducing the girl. This boyfriend was, as he declared at the time, a crossdresser. They kissed but stopped short of intimacy. He told the girl much later about the fiancée’s request of him. He was such a beautiful person. It is painful to think that if the fiancée had not attempted a plot, she may have got what she wanted anyway. Then the girl and her boyfriend may have begun a relationship that would have saved the girl from going to that party in her city (the boyfriend lived in yet another city). He was so beautiful and caring that it hurts to think of the loss.

The relationship with the second boyfriend (did you already guess, still another city?) was early in the forgotten years and after the fiancée had broken off the engagement. They met in his city only once. They started to get intimate, but this came to an awkward end because this (male) body is allergic to – the official term is ‘seminal fluid hypersensitivity’ (it is rare in men, to be effectively allergic to themselves, but what else is new with this body?). It leaves this body with painful burns that last for hours. It can be dangerous if it causes swelling around the airway, which was very nearly the way it was discovered. Fortunately, it does not cause anaphylaxis in this body. It does tend to ruin the mood for good, however. That relationship ended abruptly.

Seminal fluid hypersensitivity also added a level of brutality to the rape that the rapists could not have foreseen. Not that they may have cared. (It was a food allergy that more slowly resulted in similar burns, that brought the flashbacks  that preceded or precipitated the end of the full amnesia.)

*

There are the forgotten years. The hospitalizations. The apparent misdiagnosis of the now-deprecated “gender identity confusion.”

And then there is me.

I still feel awkward to think this way, but I am the integrated identity of the boy, the girl, the child, et al. Al, but for the identity fragment. I developed in a state of amnesia, but this paragraph is better covered in earlier posts.

I present as male. According to the S.A.G.E. (gender) test, for what that is worth, I have androgynous brain processes and I socialize as female. I do not feel especially one way or the other on the matter. I present as male because it is the easiest, not because it is necessarily more fitting or comfortable for me. I have said before that I would be most comfortable to have no gender or sexuality. I am no more attached to these things than I am to my name. [I forgot that I cut the paragraph where I wrote about my dis-attachment to my name. It was overly tangential.]

I consider myself pansexual and panromantic. But I do not necessarily keep up with the terminology. I carry trauma over male presences in sexual situations, so these identifications are mostly moot.

My current partner, my wife, declares herself to be straight. She demonstrates (and denies) an attraction to strong lesbian women. She is what she declares herself to be, and I will not dismiss what she says. I will only point out that she was first attracted to me when I was still more feminine than I am now (not that I am especially masculine today).

I love my wife. She is so beautiful and she grows more beautiful every year. She appears to have similar issues with memory to mine. It is not so much of an issue for her that my identity is a little fluid. We have our challenges and conflicts and whatnot, but we have been together for nearly all of my identity. We could have been made for each other. Whatever may have been, I am glad to be here with her now.

*

I find it exhausting to socialize with men. It requires so much fakery. I can do it and appear comfortable doing so, but I have to be guarded against appearing too feminine. I have to be similarly guarded with women, but they are less likely to notice when I slip. They are also less likely to jump to the conclusion that I am being less masculine because I want to get into their pants, the conclusion men often jump to. Telling guys that they are definitely not my type does little to improve the situation.

One female friend was delighted when I slipped and she thought I was her new gay best friend. She was trying to hook me up with her other gay best friend (apparently she had a collection) before she moved away. (I wonder if he was as bewildered as I was.)

Sexuality is a headache I could do without. I mostly just want friends. I do not want the acrobatics of entanglement and/or disentanglement. I just want meaningful conversations that never lead to bed, or that never end because someone is afraid that it may lead to bed.

Of course I am sexual. But I would give it up in an instant, if it would take that barrier to meaningful friendships away with it.

*

I can find vestiges of the girl identity within me today. Some are complications, but only because of the world.

#dissociative identity disorder #dissociative amnesia #DID

[dipulb3]

Fire-ravaged California Wine Country: We're still here

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/fire-ravaged-california-wine-country-were-still-here/

Fire-ravaged California Wine Country: We're still here

Healdsburg, California (Appradab) — The subject of the call was dire: Scattered reports of fire. On the mountain. Maybe headed straight for the Meadowood Napa Valley resort.

It was late September, and most resort employees had evacuated to safer spots. Officials organized a conference call to reassure their people not to panic. Christopher Kostow, executive chef of The Restaurant at Meadowood, was one of those on the line.

The group discussed conflicting news reports of fire burning nearby vineyards. They shared first- and second-hand stories of friends losing everything. Finally, someone interrupted: What about “the picture?”

The picture, of course, was one that is now burned in the brains of everyone within a 30-mile radius of the most vaunted wine region in California.

In the foreground, a lone CalFire firefighter stands in an orange jumpsuit atop a heap of plant debris. In the background, the three-Michelin-star restaurant and top story of the luxurious Clubhouse at the five-star Meadowood resort are completely engulfed in flames.

Kostow hadn’t seen the photo tweeted out by a Bay Area journalist until someone texted it to him moments later. The chef was driving when it came through on his phone. After glancing at it, he nearly veered off the road.

“I knew immediately — you don’t come back from that,” Kostow said days later, still recovering from the shock. “We put 12 years of human capital into that place, and it disappeared in a few hours.”

Kostow’s restaurant wasn’t the only casualty of wildfires in Wine Country this year. Two separate fires over the course of three months singed acres of vineyards, hundreds of homes and several other tourist destinations throughout the area.

The most recent blaze — the Glass Fire — wreaked havoc in Napa County, hitting Meadowood and obliterating the five-star Calistoga Ranch resort. It damaged or destroyed nearly twodozen wineries as well.

In August, the hulking LNU Complex Fire hit both sides of the region, burning all the land around Lake Berryessa in Napa County and threatening the Russian River Valley resort towns of Forestville and Guerneville on the Sonoma County side.

Cleanup and recovery operations are ongoing where possible; in some cases, those businesses that had shuttered because of damages have reopened.

Still, after an economic slowdown thanks to the Covid-19 pandemic and three horrific fire seasons out of the past four, many local folks can’t help but wonder: Will travel to Wine Country ever be the same?

State of the region

To be clear, Napa and Sonoma counties are still vibrant, beautiful places.

Yes, there have been terrible fires since 2017. Yes, people have died. Yes, fresh black burn scars slash the otherwise verdant landscape. All told, across both counties the fires have destroyed more than 7,500 homes.

Amazingly, however, in the context of the local tourism infrastructure, these natural disasters really haven’t precipitated the type of Armageddon that many might extrapolate from headlines and video they see on TV.

Fire crews saved all structures at the Schramsberg vineyard outside Calistoga.

Courtesy Schramsberg

Take the most recent Glass Fire, which burned more than 67,000 acres overall.

Linsey Gallagher, president and CEO of Visit Napa Valley, the organization tasked with marketing the Napa Valley as a travel destination, said the region is home to about 475 wineries. She noted that only 31 — roughly 6.5% — were directly affected by the fire.

Of the 31, she said, 11 suffered major damage or destruction.

Among those reporting serious or total losses: Burgess, Cain, Dutch Henry, Hourglass, Newton and Sherwin Family. The 45-year-old Chateau Boswell also burned to the ground; all that remains today is the winery building’s stone façade.

“Our thoughts go out to all who were impacted by this most recent fire,” Gallagher said. “We have endured phylloxera (a louse affecting vines), Prohibition and earthquakes, and we’ll get through this, as well.”

Officials at wineries that endured less significant damages — all of which are open for tastings again — shared harrowing stories of perilously close calls.

Hugh Davies, president of the sparkling wine producer Schramsberg, reported that fire crews rushed up the hillside and saved all structures at his property outside Calistoga. He noted that a recent effort to create space between buildings and forest likely facilitated the heroic effort, and said that a few vines did burn.

At Castello di Amorosa, a Calistoga winery in a replica of a medieval stone castle, the fire burned a storeroom but not the main structure. Tom Davies, president and managing partner of sister winery V. Sattui (and no relation to Hugh), said the castle “got lucky.”

Philippe and Cherie Melka, owners of Melka Estates & Winery in St. Helena

Mariana Calderon Photography

Philippe and Cherie Melka, owners of Melka Estates & Winery in St. Helena, said flames incinerated their grown child’s detached living quarters and a guest cottage, but firefighters miraculously saved the family’s main home and the main winemaking facility.

“We recognize it could have been a lot worse,” Cherie Melka said. “We’re thankful we’re still here.”

Fallen icons

While the Glass Fire took out 150 of the 5,500 hotel rooms in Napa County, the losses represent two iconic properties: Calistoga Ranch and Meadowood Resort.

Calistoga Ranch, an ultra-luxury resort with 50 rooms, was destroyed — its exquisite main building, spa and $800-per-night cabins reduced to ashes in a matter of hours as the fire advanced from St. Helena north.

Todd Cilano was regional vice president of the resort, and in an email noted that the “Ranch” was a celebration of Wine Country. He wrote that the property was home to a working cabernet vineyard, hiking trails and a flourishing garden and a chicken coop that produced hyperlocal ingredients for the on-site restaurant. He added that people loved the resort because of how it blurred the line between inside and out.

The remains of the guest houses at Calistoga Ranch smoulder after the Glass Fire on September 30, 2020.

Samuel Corum/AFP/Getty Images

“Our intention is to reestablish the resort, but it will take some time to rebuild,” wrote Cilano, who is also general manager at Solage, a neighboring property which, like Calistoga Ranch, is part of the Auberge Resorts Collection. “The outpouring of support from past guests who already cannot wait to return has been incredibly encouraging.”

At Meadowood, many of the guest rooms survived the blaze but took on varying degrees of smoke damage. Since the clubhouse and other buildings were incinerated, the resort has closed to assess fallout and devise a rebuilding plan. No reopening date has been announced.

One thing is certain: The Restaurant at Meadowood will have to find a new home.

Kostow described his overriding emotion about the fire as “grief,” and likened losing the beloved restaurant to the death of a family member.

The bustling kitchen of three-Michelin-star The Restaurant at Meadowood, before it was destroyed in the Glass Fire on September 28.

Kelly Puleio

“To be honest I’ve never experienced anything like this in my life and I don’t think I ever will again,” he said. “It makes you think about what was of value in what you had done and what should be of value going forward. It throws into question everything about our industry and the value of the work we do. When nothing is physically left, there you are, asking yourself the question, ‘What of value remains?'”

Kostow continued: “For me it was such an honor over the years to work with the people I worked with. We worked hard. We did something unique. I’m so proud of the work they and I were able to do together. Fire can’t render that moot.”

Kostow has another local restaurant — The Charter Oak — in St. Helena, and said he expected to be able to keep most of his staff busy with work there.

He also said he is “looking at ways to keep the team working together” into 2021 and beyond.

Tackling other challenges

In Sonoma County, the hospitality industry has held its collective breath; while both the Glass Fire and an offshoot of the LNU Complex named the Walbridge Fire threatened thousands of local businesses, both fires burned mostly in wild areas and neither wreaked significant damage to the tourism infrastructure.

Of course, Sonoma County was hit harder in previous years, with the Kincade Fire threatening Healdsburg in 2019 and the Tubbs Fire blazing a path of destruction through Santa Rosa in 2017. Certain neighborhoods of Santa Rosa are still rising from the ashes.

This year, in addition to poor air quality, the biggest challenge for Sonoma County was one familiar to tourist destinations all over the world: the Covid-19 pandemic.

“Yes, we battled blazes and a pandemic, but this is a place that personifies resiliency, creativity and a passion for the best life has to offer,” said Claudia Vecchio, president and CEO of Sonoma County Tourism. “While the past several years have given us myriad challenges, Sonoma County continues to be a place where travelers can breathe in the stunning natural beauty, escape the crowds of the city and create (great) moments.”

The Arista Winery in the Russian River Valley sits on 36 acres and is ideal for social distancing.

King Lawrence

As Vecchio suggested, many wineries, hotels and restaurants have improvised.

In the Russian River Valley, for instance, Arista Winery bolstered an existing lineup of private tastings with outdoor experiences held at six spots around the 36-acre ranch.

Mark McWilliams, co-owner and director of operations, said all of these tastings come with small bites, and noted that each of the spots is secluded by big and beautiful oak trees, which means that visitors by nature are practicing physical distancing when they visit.

“We’re kind of set up with these private islands where I can have five groups here at any given time but they never see each other and feel like they’re the only group on the property,” said McWilliams, whose winery is in unincorporated Healdsburg. “We did this because it’s the best way to soak up the view and take in the beauty of this ranch. Turns out (these offerings) work for Covid, too.”

Because Sonoma County restaurants have not been allowed to offer indoor dining until Covid-19 case numbers fall below a certain threshold, restaurateurs have had to pivot in different ways.

In Windsor, Leah Scurto turned her dine-in pizza parlor, PizzaLeah, into a take-out only business. In the city of Sonoma, Sondra Bernstein this summer opened a satellite location of her girl & the fig restaurant in the plaza across the street.

Back in Healdsburg, restaurateur Dustin Valette spent more than $50,000 to create an al fresco patio on the street adjacent to his restaurant, Valette.

Inside, the restaurant could seat 49. Outside, the restaurant now seats 37.

“The patio is a bridge — we’re not at break-even, but we are in a position to endure losses,” said Valette, whose 79-year-old father still flies air tankers for CalFire. “With fires and Covid, we’re doing the best we can while still delivering on great food and a memorable experience.”

Hotels and local hotel companies embraced big changes, too. Four Sisters Inns, which operates seven boutique hotels in Wine Country, this summer signed up with Whistle, a text-messaging platform that allows concierges and other employees to communicate with guests from a safe distance.

The 25-room Farmhouse Inn & Spa in Forestville replaced communal s’mores bowls with single-family packets for guest to use to concoct goodies over the poolside fire pits. Also, every guest gets a face covering.

Some hotels even made operational changes — Vintners Resort in Santa Rosa shortened its cancellation policy to 72 hours from seven days and no longer charges guests for canceling reservations.

“Between the fires, the smoke from the fires, and Covid, we realized guests wanted us to be more flexible,” said General Manager Percy Brandon. “We’re doing whatever we can to make people feel welcome and attract more business.”

What comes next?

Across both counties, hoteliers, restaurateurs, winery owners and tour operators wonder whether all the pivoting they are doing will be enough.

At Farmhouse Inn & Spa in Forestville, California, every guest gets a face covering.

Courtest Farmhouse Inn

Battling the pandemic slump was challenging on its own, but with the additional threat of fires, the pervasive challenge of poor air quality because of wildfire smoke and the forthcoming danger of flooding and landslides during winter rains, many locals are uneasy.

“It’s multiple layers of crisis,” said Gallagher, the head of Visit Napa Valley.

Currently, the busiest time of the year in Wine Country is harvest, which usually takes place from August to November — the heart of fire season. Assuming the risk of Covid-19 will eventually go away, some locals wonder if encouraging visitors to come at different times of year might help circumvent complications associated with climate change.

One possibility: Bud Break, when grape vines wake up from winter dormancy and produce their first buds of the new season. This usually happens sometime between mid-February and mid-March, depending on weather and temperature.

Currently, at least from a tourism perspective, this timeframe is considered part of the region’s “off-season.” That means tasting rooms are less crowded and hotel rates are low — perfect conditions to attract new guests.

Two other possibilities include summer, which can get beastly hot, and November through January, which — at least before the past few years — has been characterized mostly by rain.

“(Typically) winter is rainy, but it’s a beautiful time to be here,” said Joe Bartolomei, co-owner of the Farmhouse Inn. “Maybe one of the ways we can survive the disruptions is by doing a better job of showing people we are a year-round destination.”

Other insiders think the answer is better education about local geography, climate and ecosystems.

Art Murray, president and owner of Flambeaux Wine in Sonoma County’s Dry Creek Valley, said that when visitors come for tastings, he usually pulls out a topographic map and tries to show them where the region’s valleys are in relation to each other. Murray also spends time distinguishing between Napa and Sonoma counties, which are separated by a mountain range and ecologically distinct.

To demonstrate the need for this basic education, Murray shared his own story. The Walbridge Fire came within less than a mile of his house and he barely heard from friends out of state. But when the Glass Fire was raging in Napa, 30 to 40 miles away, his phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

“I had 10 times the messages for Glass, and Walbridge couldn’t have been closer without being in the house,” he said. “Wine County is big. Just because one part is on fire doesn’t mean it’s all going to burn.”

Matt Villano is a writer and editor based in Sonoma County. He has evacuated wildfires twice since 2017.

[trisscar368]

This Week On “I Should Be Metaing the Show But I’m Going to Analyze the Fandom Because I Can”

I’ve been avoiding writing this essay.  There’s a half dozen people at this point who know I’ve been strenuously avoiding writing this essay.  And this nascent idea, this unborn word vomit, has been following me around for days as I poke about Tumblr; I’ve begun to believe it’s an aspect of the hellatus rot, where all the old arguments and moot points and “why the hell is this still a thing GET OFF MY LAWN” topics come back to the top because there’s a dearth of new material to drown them out, and all of it circles back to one singular disconnect.

So.  Fanon vs. Canon.

First off, definitions.

Fanon is a conglomeration of concepts, headcanons, shared ideas, and beliefs that fandom constructs around a topic.  Fanon especially builds up around ships.

Canon is the text presented to the audience by the author.  It is absolute, up until the point that the author changes things (redefining previous canon, recontextualizing, or straight out retcons).  It includes the text and the subtext.  Yes, subtext is canon.  What, you say, I’m totally imagining that subtext even exists?

“To analyze, to meta – to meta, perchance to headcanon – ay, there's the rub, for in this realm of fantasy what concepts may come…”

The wonderful thing about the postmodern era is that the author is dead; the audience is free to interpret the text however they like, pulling out unintended meanings everywhere.  This is great for tv shows, where there’s a dozen people adding a dozen different types and points of subtext, some intentional and some not so intentional.

The horrible thing about the postmodern era is that the author is dead.  The audience is free to interpret the text however they like.   So what I see as canon and what Jo over here sees as canon?  They don’t match up.

I’ll bet you a dollar that someone will read this and go “subtext isn’t canon.”  And by the wonderful paradox of “all interpretations are valid” they’re both right and wrong at the same time.  Right now, in this essay, I am metaing the fandom, and the shared belief of fandom interactions is that subtext existing is canon; in other words, subtext being canon is fandom fanon.

I know, my head hurts too.  (Guess what; because subtext being canon is based on a large chunk of Western literary tradition, it’s not only de facto canonically canon (because we’re addressing western literature as our source), this is now a meta about meta.)

“Why are you making me read this?”  Well, because I have been swamped in a half dozen different discussions and arguments over the past week that all fall back on this point, and this misunderstanding, and I feel like yelling at clouds today.

Fandom isn’t one universal cabbage patch, a singular monolithic entity; on the day to day, we aren’t the Borg, and we don’t agree on stuff.  Each ‘fandom’ for a show is made of dozens of different sub-fandoms.  Like I said above, fanon tends to conglomerate around ships.  Part of engaging with fiction is suspension of disbelief; part of fanon is choosing what to engage with in the source material.  For ships and characters alike, this can very quickly turn into “I am choosing not to engage with this piece of canon.”

This is great for ships.  The ability to put together a collective dialogue of “I want to play with x concept and I want to do it ethically so here are the rules” is fantastic.  It’s also common for characters, which... is more complicated.

It’s a source of headaches.  And fights.  And basic fundamental misunderstandings that make me want to tear my hair out.

Because fanon sometimes becomes canon for those sub-groups.  Which is great in the context of the group.  Everyone agrees on the basics and can use that as a launching point for more complex discussions. 

Canon vs fanon becomes a nightmare when it spreads beyond the people who know what the common dialogue is.  Quite suddenly, there’s this clash of “your canon and my canon don’t match,” which devolves very quickly into “you’re wrong and I’m right.” 

Weirdly enough, there is also fanon-level understandings about the fandom, and all the sub-fandoms.  (If you listen closely you can hear the sounds of me whimpering in the corner from inception syndrome.)  Each sub-fandom has an outsider’s perspective of all the other sub-fandoms, and shares stories about those other groups with each other, which creates a common dialogue of what they think others believe.  So the Sam fandom believes that the Destiel fandom believes xyz, the Destiel fandom believes that the Wincest fandom believes eqr, and on and on and on.  And it’s all part of the fanon discussion because it’s all built around how we interact with the show and with canon.

So.  This has been the “yelling at clouds” portion of your morning.  Basically nobody is on the same page, there’s reasons we’re not on the same page, and for goodness sake you’re not on the same page stop assuming things and actually figure out what the context is!

#fandom meta #meta meta #not-really-that-old-but-old-in-spirit woman yells at cloud #canon vs fanon