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blackjack-15 · 3 years

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Adoration to Ashes, Dust to Just — Thoughts on: Alibi in Ashes (ASH)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN, WAC, TOT, SAW, CAP

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraphs above, along with my list of previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: ASH; mention of a whole host of previous games with the Hardy Boys in them; mention of SCK; mention of STFD; mention of FIN; mention of DED; small spoilers for SPY; unflattering mention of the Nancy Drew: Girl Detective series; brief mention of erotic-shifter-romance book Bearllionaire.

The Intro:

Welcome to the Nancy Games, lads!

Before we begin, since we’re at the beginning of a new “section” of games, let’s go over exact what the “Nancy Games” entail. Unlike the other games, this section (which runs from ASH through SPY) of games is most concerned with Nancy’s personality, growth, and showing her through a different character foil each game.

These games not only give us a better picture of who Nancy is, but also how she fits (or doesn’t fit) into the world around her and with the people that she meets. Rather than solving the case, these games are made to make Nancy react to things; rather than ‘where is Nancy Drew’ or ‘what case is Nancy Drew tackling’, the preeminent question for ASH and the four games after it is simple: ‘Who Is Nancy Drew?’.

Though only possible because of the nature of the miscellaneous games (WAC, TOT) and the Faerietale Games (SAW, CAP), the Nancy Games have been sorely needed since the series graduated past the first few cases. For a lot of the series, the games weren’t really concerned with the main character of the series, preferring her to be a blank slate that players could superimpose themselves onto…which, as recent media (such as Twilight, and Twilight But With Bondage This Time), isn’t a good basis for a character outside of a dime-store bodice ripper.

But these games aren’t Bearllionaire, they’re detective stories, and detective stories need a strong main detective to carry the story — not to mention the stakes.

That’s where these games come in. Building obviously to the story in SPY, each game explores another facet of Nancy’s personality, and shows what she could become — or could have become, in a few instances — should she let the more negative sides of her personality take over, or if she trusts the wrong kind of people and makes the wrong friends.

How better to illustrate than by showing exactly the kinds of people that Nancy’s friends are? That’s what ASH is primarily concerned about — showing who Nancy is by showing the reactions of people who have known her all her life to a crisis. The only difference between Nancy and her Foil in this game is the fact that Nancy has good people — good friends — fighting for her. It’s how she gets herself out of jail, and how she manages to solve the crime.

And it’s a fun (if a bit clunky) game mechanic as well.

This is why this story can only happen in Nancy’s hometown. Not only is it delightful for fans to see (modern-day, as we saw the old version in CLK) River Heights for the first time and get to explore a bit around the town, but hometowns in media are quite significant when looking at who a character is.

Almost always, a hometown is used as sort of a microcosm for the character, giving us a bit of a cheat sheet into who they are as a person just by showing their environment. Think about it — how many times in cop shows (which are the most blatant offenders by far) are we told that a character is from a small town, and thus they’re intent on proving themselves, probably a ridiculously hard worker (to get out of “that place”), and a bit more innocent than their inner-city colleagues? Or that a character grew up overseas to justify their interest in international crime, establish them as a bit of a wildcard, and handwave them knowing about 16 languages? Or that they grew up “on the streets”, justifying a hidden juvenile record, skills in hand-to-hand combat, and a soft spot for Youths Just Like Them?

(But enough about Criminal Minds. I’d rather focus on something that actually has thought put into it.)

The same thing is happening here in ASH; from River Heights, we can extrapolate that Nancy is well-off, straight-forward, comfortable largely around adults (think about it — ignoring the usual phone characters, we only meet one person around Nancy’s age in RH, and she hates her), and has a drive to be Somewhere Other than her small town.

Another interesting point is that River Heights is chosen as the backdrop for something that has only happened twice in the series, and only once been done well: a personal revenge story against Nancy herself. Sure, RAN attempted it, but RAN’s story is — if you haven’t read that meta, spoilers — hot, flaming garbage, and the personal revenge plotline is bungled to the extreme, resulting in it not putting across that theme very effectively.

ASH is different; from the very beginning, it’s obvious that whoever is doing this is working off of a person grudge against Nancy specifically — and burned down the town hall in order to implicate her, so they’re not playing around. It’s the reason that the culprit search is so focused, which really benefits the games as well. The question isn’t really “who would want to get rid of Town Hall”, it’s “who hates Nancy enough to burn down a building to get her in trouble”. It makes questioning so much more interesting — and very full of mines, which is Great — when it’s the person, rather than the specific crime, that matters.

The last thing I’ll touch on in this introduction is a question that the fandom has posed both seriously and jokingly many times over the last….almost exactly 10 years (10 years!!! I need to lie down my land!!!) since the game first came out: where are the Hardy Boys? Surely, if there was ever a game where they made sense to appear, it would be this one; their friend is in prison and needs the help of practiced investigators — you’d think that even if Carson wouldn’t think of hiring them (which, as desperate as he was, he totally would have), that Nancy would have given them a call, if only to see if ATAC had anything on the suspects.

There are two reasons why the Hardy Boys don’t appear, from a storytelling perspective (ignoring the issue of how much money it would cost to include them or any other technical considerations), no matter how much I would have liked them here, or how much sense it would have been to at least name drop them, if not make them phone friends.

The first is to keep the game centered on River Heights. Everyone in the game — both suspects and allies — is from River Heights and is a part of the town’s makeup. Our suspects reporter, a politician-slash-ice-cream-store-owner, an ex-detective-turned-antiques-dealer, and a college student born and raised in RH. They represent different facets of the town — the media, the political, the business, and the rising generation — and so each represent a part of the town. Nancy’s allies all fall under the “rising generation” — the “Future of the Town”, if you will — or under the justice system category, with Carson. Even the Chief represents another facet — the law — that can both hurt and help Nancy in turn. By keeping all suspects and allies tied to the town, the mystery and the story can focus on exactly what’s going down in River Heights, without any distractions.

The second reason that the Hardy Boys don’t appear is a little less obvious and a little less cut-and-dried plain fact, but I find it compelling enough to mention here: Ned is present. Other than as a foil in CAP (and an oddity in CRE/VEN), the Hardy Boys don’t appear in the games where Ned is present — it tends to be an either/or thing as far as phone characters are concerned. The why of this is, admittedly, conjecture, but I do find it fascinating that the two (three, technically) don’t intersect — and when they do, it’s to compare them.

Also there are not enough fics of the time Nancy sent Ned to hang out with the Hardy Boys like their house was a vacation kennel and Joe broke Ned’s car. Just saying.

Ned represents River Heights, safety, security, constancy, and comfort — the same things that the other River Heights phone friends (Carson, George, Bess, Hannah) do, albeit to a slightly lesser extent. The Hardy Boys, on the other hand, represent excitement, danger, the unknown, new discoveries, and growth — as do, in different extents, the non-River Heights returning phone friends (Hotchkiss, Savannah, Prudence).

Nancy sits squarely in the middle of these two extremes; she’s from River Heights, but she’s not exactly of River Heights, if you get my meaning. As the games have progressed, they’ve shown Nancy moving further and further away from safe, small, friend-related cases to professional jobs with more than a few people actively trying to kill her. For me, that’s the reason we don’t see the Hardy Boys and Ned mostly in the same games; they represent different spheres of Nancy’s life.

And, had competent writer(s) stayed and the games not, well, imploded due to Penny being one of the worst business people I’ve ever encountered, it would have been interesting to see that push-and-pull dynamic being expressed in Nancy’s relationships. As it is…thank Heaven for AO3, am I right?

Now, let’s refocus on ASH in specific, and talk about its composite parts, shall we?

The Title:

Other than being catchy and evocative (and telling us exactly what crime was committed here — that of arson), Alibi in Ashes is also a notable title for its flexibility in meaning. Like CAP, there are so many different connotations for “fire”, and all of them apply neatly to this game.

First, we’re dealing with the literal fire that sends Town Hall up in smoke, and the inciting incident for our mystery (and Nancy’s jail time). Next, we have the word “fire” standing in for “emergency” — as in “where’s the fire” — and there seems to be a new emergency every five minutes in this game — the fire, Nancy’s arrest, Bess breaking the vase, Carson’s absence, etc.

After that, we venture even further down the abstract hole, and dive into the political — whistleblowing, which is often referred to as “setting a/the fire”. This is partially what Nancy does, and is also what Brenda likes to do, no matter the accuracy of the report. Finally, we stay with Brenda for the term “media wildfire” – which is exactly what Nancy’s arrest (due to Brenda’s machinations) causes.

The title in total — “Alibi in Ashes” — also works in a few different senses. Literally speaking, Nancy’s alibi — and the evidence to prove it — is in the ashes of Town Hall, waiting to be discovered. More metaphorically, due to the work of the culprit, Nancy’s alibi (aka her innocence) is in pieces, in ashes — it’s been destroyed. Finally, in a literary sense, Nancy’s situation can be shown in the “ashes” of a past life — in the “wildfire” that destroyed Alexei’s life and career as a detective.

Its acronym being “ASH” is also pretty awesome, not gonna lie.

It’s the multifaceted nature of the title that really gives it its staying power, catchiness aside. Many titles are just as good as ASH’s, but almost none work harder at having so many possible meanings that are all represented in the text of the game itself.

The Mystery:

Sufficiently chastened into spending more time at home (at least for a few days), Nancy comes home in order to spearhead her team (consisting of Ned, Bess, and George) to victory in the River Heights Clues Challenge. This friendly little competition that included No Cheating Whatsoever on the part of Other Teams heats up, however, when a clue leads Nancy to the historic Town Hall — only to have it erupt in flames minutes later. Coughing but still moving, Nancy escapes the inferno…only to be greeted by the suspicious press, declaring her guilty of setting a beloved building on fire.

Things only get worse when Chief McGinnis shows up the next day, taking Nancy into custody due to political pressure in the town. An arsonist is afoot in River Heights, and unless her friends can dig up some dirt on someone — or everyone — else, it looks like Nancy Drew won’t just be convicted by the press, but by the town that raised her…

As a mystery, ASH has some great personal stakes — for Nancy and for our suspects — and pretty layered motivations. The cast comes alive through their relations to Nancy, especially as she’s unprotected with Carson being in Australia. The shift in the mystery that occurs when Nancy can finally get out and speak to the suspects — and seeing how differently they treat her than how they treated the other members of the cast — really helps to add something new to a mystery that’s tying itself up a bit, and give it the last push of gas it needs to get us to the conclusion.

While it’s not the most involved, complex, or thematic Nancy Drew mystery ever, it does what it needs to do, and does it well – and that’s honestly all I want in a game more devoted (as it should be) to character than it is to a twisty plot.

The Suspects:

ASH has a rather full cast (not because of the size of the suspect pool, but because there are so many people involved that should be mentioned), so let’s get started with our suspects, then move on to our other cast members.

Brenda Carlton, resident Reporter of River Heights News and perpetual thorn in Nancy’s side, is both our first suspect and our culprit, proving once again that the media cannot be trusted. We haven’t had a reporter be our culprit in 21 games (TRT’s Lisa being the previous example), so I guess we were due, but Brenda is a delightfully hateful example of just how bad the media can be, so kudos for that.

And this game didn’t even come out in an election year. How refreshing.

As a suspect, Brenda is awesome. Catty, arrogant, and with a penchant for dressing up as Nancy – titian wig and all! – to perform her dastardly, dastardly acts, the game doesn’t try to be subtle for one second that she’s up to no good. While Nancy and Brenda are equally as interested — and equally as talented, by all appearances – in ferreting out a good story, Brenda takes it a step further and makes one if she can’t find one – and nurses a grudge against Nancy for exposing her for it.

Up next is ice cream shop owner and scaly politician Antonia “Toni” Scallari, a woman with a bright-eyed, smiling public face — and if you don’t like that face, don’t worry…she has others. Toni is your typical politician — pretends to be nice and pleasant, is actually a scheming villain, hates people who do honest work, and thinks that fairness in government is a luxury – but the game does stop shy of making her The Villain, preferring instead to show the crimes she’s committed in her search for money and power and letting her quietly bow out of the election.

So definitely better than she deserved, but at least the game shows her corrupt nature rather than sweeping it under the rug.

As a suspect, Toni would have made a decent villain, but it would have turned the game into a tale of cold political expediency and machinations, rather than hot-blooded revenge, and that would have been a shame. I’m a fan of how the games from about TOT on always have multiple characters who Do Crimes and Bad Things, and Toni is a prime example of a bad guy who just happens not to be The Bad Guy.

Third on the docket of suspects is our resident grumpy old man (and Nancy’s foil in this game) Alexei Markovic, who provides not only some of the best voice work in the game, but whose age is also proof that Nancy’s dad really is the silver-haired DILF we’ve been waiting for.

C’mon, he prosecuted Alexei when Alexei was 20. The youngest Carson could have been was 25 if he booked it through college, took no breaks to study for the LSAT, and blazed through law school — and immediately got a job the day after graduation. And seeing as Alexei has the “old coot” personality and grey hair…well, Carson is probably straddling the line between DILF and GILF.

(I’m so sorry for that aside, guys, it got away from me. I’m equally sorry for the first recorded use of the term “GILF” in the Nancy Drew fandom. It’s not the legacy I wanted, but perhaps the legacy I deserve.)

Back to Alexei!

Alexei is a great character, full-stop, and his VA just improves the experience more. Bitter and jaded, but by no means uncaring or evil or myopic about his troubles, Alexei is, where Nancy is concerned, a bleeding heart whose blood happens to run cold. While he could be bitter about Carson playing a part in taking away everything he had, and thus treat Nancy poorly, he instead empathizes deeply, wants to help, and, in effect, treats her the way that somebody — anybody — should have treated him.

As a suspect, Alexei, as Nancy’s foil in the game, would have been a poor choice; he’s not really there to be suspicious, he’s there to show the stakes of the mystery. No matter if Carson could find a world-class defender to get Nancy off the charges, no matter if they couldn’t even indict her, the stakes aren’t “Nancy will go to jail for Realsies” — the stakes are the town turning its back, she loses those she loves, and is unable to do the job that is the essence of who she is. In other words, if things go poorly, Nancy becomes Alexei.

One of the reasons that Alexei is such a good character is that he recognizes this immediately, and is determined to do all he can to prevent that. Sure, he knows the odds are stacked against him, and the whole town is his enemy, and he won’t get anything for helping out — but at his heart, he’s still the Magnificent Markovic; “no case too big, no fee too small,” remember?

Last of the actual suspects is noted red-light runner and girl in envious, envious green, Deirdre Shannon. Deirdre’s a rather divisive character in the fandom — especially of late — but is a character I stand firmly on the side of great, for a few reasons.

The first is that the games took a 1-dimensional, wouldn’t-cast-a-shadow-if-you-turned-her-sideways character from the Girl Detective books, there purely to make Nancy look good, and instead gave her a fully realized character, sympathetic motivations, and a whip-sharp tongue.

The second is her hilarious banter with the River Heights crew and wry sense of humor, which would be enough to make her a favorite character of mine alone.

Annoyed by constant, unflattering comparisons to Nancy from her parents (her father also being a lawyer in River Heights), she’s amused when Nancy’s arrested — though, if you read in between the lines, never suspects Nancy actually set the fire nor thinks Nancy will ultimately get the blame — though not as amused at Bess’ spying on her. She harbors a not-secret crush on Ned and enjoys spending time with him, girlfriend or no girlfriend — though it should be noted that even Ned isn’t spared her sharp tongue.

As a culprit, Deirdre would have been the obvious choice for writers who were the caliber of…well, of the Girl Detective series writers, but thankfully we’re on a higher playing field with Nik, Cathy, and the rest of the crew behind ASH. Deirdre is a snarky observer, but that’s as far as her ‘evil’ goes — and looking at her methodology for solving the Clues Challenge clues (and her commentary on her compatriots) is a joy — real detective work, indeed!

After our suspects, let’s talk about our players on the side of Right — or at least, on the side of Nancy — starting with the girl detective herself (as we will for all of the Nancy Games). ASH provides a better look at Nancy than we’ve had before (as befitting the first of the Nancy Games)

Nancy Drew is our main character, sometimes-protagonist, and at times villain protagonist — especially in the eyes of our culprits — when it comes to unearthing long-buried hurts and wrongs. Stuck in jail for a crime she didn’t commit due to political and community pressure, for the first time, the girl detective can’t really do anything by herself, and is relegated to “phone friend” while her boyfriend and childhood friends are running around frantically trying to introduce reasonable doubt in a frame-up par excellence.

Our source in SPY refers to Nancy as an autodidact — one who teaches themselves — and that’s a perfect summation of Nancy’s character. She’s no museum expert, nor cowgirl, nor entomologist, nor any other hat she’s put on — but she can fake it if someone hums a few bars. Her other big pluses as a detective are (once again according to the source in SPY) in interrogation and code/puzzle breaking — and the differences in the questions that Ned et al pose and the questions Nancy poses to our suspects does bear out the first point, at the very least. Her code and puzzle skills are the usual fallback for the games’ mysteries, more so in the modern games than in older ones (which is both a good and bad thing, depending on what types of puzzles you like).

In ASH, we learn about a key trait of Nancy’s — self-sufficiency, and, more importantly, the limits of that self-sufficiency. Able to fake most things until she makes it, Nancy is finally put in a situation where she can’t do anything by herself, and it’s a source of frustration and impatience to her that overrides other feelings (“Also, I’m in jail, and I would really like to get out,” anyone?). It’s rather stunning that Nancy goes from a triumphant Girl in the Dress to stuck in a police station, relying on the phone and her own intuition, and it does some good for her character exposure and development.

Next up is Edward “Ned” Nickerson, erstwhile boyfriend and long-suffering Emerson College student, Ned is part of an honors fraternity and is in River Heights for the Clues Challenge — and to see his girlfriend, of course. While his attempts to be Detective Ned have really only resulting in finding the keys that were in his pocket, Ned is nevertheless quite useful in getting information out of Deirdre (and is responsible for one of the funniest bits of dialogue in the game that’s not spoken directly by Deirdre).

According to the files from SPY, Ned’s defining characteristics are his honestly and his loyalty, both of which mean that he’s the ideal ‘phone friend’ when Nancy’s in a pickle — and means of course he’d be front and center, ready to do anything he needs to in order to help clear Nancy’s name. His main role in the game, however (and very interesting, as one of 6 or so Neirdre shippers in the fandom!) is to be the object of Deirdre’s window-shopping affections and to be made fun of (good-naturedly, of course) by his friends.

Because of his relationship (such as it is) with an overtly antagonistic character, Ned’s a lot of fun in ASH. I feel like he gets a lot of characterization that he often lacks in most other games (excepting CAP and SPY, of course), and it just makes me like him more.

George Fayne is also here to help — though, irritatingly, not required the same way Bess and Ned are — with her knowledge of technology and impeccable Togo-watching skills. George is a great character in the OG Nancy Drew books – the ultra-modern, straightforward, clumsy flapper, to contrast Bess’ more genteel sensibilities and Nancy’s down to earth, practical, yet fashionable nature — and one of the greatest disservices that the 60s rewrites, post-60s ND books, and, yes, the game series has done to the ND universe is to turn her into a “hurr-durr tomboy because name George like boy name” sort of mockery of her original character.

And no, I’m not crediting her as “Georgia”, because that was not her name in the books. Her name was George, full stop — once again, quite fashionable of her to have a “boy’s” name in the 20s/30s — named after her grandfather. You may fight me on this, but you will not win.

George is noted to have above-average skills in mechanical engineering, and indeed creates a jammer to stop Brenda’s broadcast in the game, but is otherwise…well, kind of pushed to the side in favor of Bess and Ned, her enmity with Deirdre notwithstanding. I’ll address this issue more in The Un-Favorite and The Fix, but a few tweaks while developing the game would have gone a long way towards defining George as a character — we’re ignoring MED wholesale, don’t worry — and helping the gameplay be a bit more varied.

George’s maternal cousin, Elizabeth “Bess” Marvin, on the other hand, is basically required to get what you need to know from Toni, but is very much not the favorite person of Alexei, due to her breaking an antique vase upon coming into his shop.

When a vase can survive the Nazis but not Bess Marvin, it seems a shame that Bess didn’t go to France with Nancy during DAN. They would have found that secret room with the artwork in like a minute and a half.

Bess is mentioned to lack judgment (her reveal of George’s crush on the snack shop boy illustrates that pretty well) but to have above-average intuition and, while manipulated easily enough, is too honest for that manipulation to really cause any lasting harm. Because of her sweet, open nature — and her open pocketbook when it comes to ice cream — she’s a favorite of Toni’s, and uses that in order to try to clear Nancy’s name and discover just what illegal, corrupt pies Toni has her grubby little politician hands in.

Going a little less friendly and a little less college-aged for our next helper, we turn to Chief McGinnis, a grumpy pushover of a cop who’s really only important for letting Nancy walk around a Police Station and solve a crime while under arrest because he didn’t wanna do his job, and for a hilarious diatribe about Pancake City.

Seriously, I go and watch that scene every so often when I need a good laugh. ASH has some fabulous comic writing, and McGinnis’ rant is a prime example.

McGinnis is pretty ineffectual as a helper, but he does allow for the first 2/3 of the game to happen by locking Nancy up (“You cannot leave jail! This is a very basic concept!), and for that, we salute him.

Rounding out our cast of Nancy-supporters is Carson Drew, who is (frustratingly, to him) stuck in Australia when all this goes down, and thus cannot use his legal prowess to free her.

Of course, as a prosecutor, I’m not sure how much help he’d be anyway, but hey, a lawyer is a lawyer is a lawyer, at least in the ever-wise eyes of HER Interactive.

Carson’s really just there (or not there, as the case may be) to explain how Nancy can be locked up with such a powerful lawyer father, honestly, but he gets some good lines in, so we’ll forgive it. He’s also there to round out the “River Heights Cast”, but I can’t help feeling that, if we were gonna have another Drew in this game, I would have taken the puppy over the golf ball. #Togo4Ever

The Favorite:

There’s a lot to love in ASH, so I’m going to focus on the biggest things. Suffice to say if a part of the game isn’t in this section but isn’t in the Un-Favorite, I love it.

I’m going to start off just by saying that the dialogue in ASH is wonderful. We’ve got distinct individual voices, sarcasm galore, enough cattiness to fuel the Halle Berry movie, and great interpersonal work, especially with Alexei.

One of the places Nik truly shines is dialogue, and a small-town environment like River Heights really shows off his skill. I sometimes hear the charge that “no one talks like this!!” leveled against the Nik games but, honestly, I talk to people every day who speak similarly to Nik’s characters, allowing for the differences in written and spoken speech, and so do most people I know. Allusions, analogies, metaphors, and aphorisms aren’t just for English class — they’re part of speaking well.

If you really wanna see dialogue where “no one talks like this,” look at the early ND games. FIN is a particularly bad offender, but SCK and STFD aren’t much better.

My favorite puzzle in the game is the letter swap puzzle inside of Scoop, by far. Sure, I enjoy other puzzles — Alexei’s number box, fingerprinting, the suspect board — immensely, and have a blast doing them, but I can spend hours figuring out old quotes on that aqua background and not notice the time passing one jot. It’s fun, references old games, and is exactly the kind of puzzle that gets me excited anyway, and I love it to pieces.

My favorite moment in the game is probably the moment Nancy takes control and goes and talks to Toni, oddly enough. The stark difference in what Toni says about Nancy while she’s in the station to what she says to her face is like a brick wall to the chest, and is, every time, the moment when you see exactly how River Heights turned on Alexei so completely as to push him out of his job and into the antique business. It’s a moment of almost stomach-sinking disgust, and I absolutely adore the game for not pulling its punches and instead keeping true to one of its major themes — that you need to see who people are in the dark, not when they’re facing you.

In the light of day, Alexei is just a cantankerous old man; Toni is a smiling, motherly ice cream store owner, Brenda is a hard-hitting reporter, and Deirdre is a vapid Queen Bee type. Under the cover of darkness, however, we see Alexei’s charity and heart, Toni’s corruption and two-faced nature, Brenda’s unethical and illegal means to her ends, and Deirdre’s soft center. And I love the game for pointing out the world of difference it makes to see what someone truly is.

For my last point, there are two characters are of note in this game that I love for very different reasons.

The first is Alexei, who is the inspiration behind the title of the meta. There’s something incredibly compelling about Alexei’s down-to-earth nature and the way he deals with being dealt the poorest hand in the world without ever dipping into “woe is me” or any other self-indulgent crap. Insatiably curious, bright, and caustic, Alexei feels like the perfect person to sit down, drink a cup of something warm, and talk about puzzles, antiques, and harsh truths with.

He’s a character who watched his entire life fall apart with one bad person’s actions — “one time, just once, I tried to speak truth to power, and man if I didn’t pay the price” — but still had it in him to keep going, even if it wasn’t what he was doing before. He went from being the town’s golden boy to a pariah, and yet still looks after River Heights and its history, even becoming the curator of the River Heights Museum (when it opens). The difference between his reaction to being falsely accused to, say, Noisette Tornade’s (DAN) reaction to being “falsely” accused is huge and, I think, rather inspiring.

The second is Deirdre Shannon, if you couldn’t tell by my gushing about her above, and, can I just say, I love everything about her. There’s a temptation to assume at first blush that she’s your average boy-stealing popular rich girl a la WAC, but actually looking at her tells a different story.

Sure, the rich part is true — but so is Nancy, and from the looks of their houses and all the trips/vacations they do, the Marvins and Faynes seem pretty well off as well. She shares the tendency for a sharp tongue with Nancy as well (as befitting her status as Nancy’s foil in DED, stay tuned!). Deirdre also doesn’t qualify as popular — her two “friends” that she hangs out with in ASH for the Clues Challenge are still in their “free trial”, and aren’t really her friends.

And her feelings for Ned? While she openly flirts with him (even if Ned doesn’t get it until the girls tell him), Deirdre isn’t looking to actually cause damage (if only because she sees Ned as completely unobtainable), and is up-front about everything she does to Nancy’s face. Putting yourself in her shoes, she’s a bright girl, in love with a boy who is the definition of out-of-reach, is constantly (and negatively) compared to the boy’s girlfriend, and feels stuck in her small town, desperate to move beyond the boredom. In other words, in any other story, she’s the protagonist. It just so happens — as she’s acutely aware — not to be her story. And that’s the kind of character that it’s impossible for me not to love.

And speaking of things impossible to love…

The Un-Favorite:

My biggest problem with ASH, as was mentioned above, is the fact that George is relegated mechanically and interpersonally to the “unimportant” bin. Nancy, Bess, and Ned all have suspects that like and don’t like them, while all George gets is a note that her and Deirdre particularly don’t get along — no extrapolation, no explanation. It makes the decision to include her as a playable character feel a bit like a last-minute decision, like Bess and Ned were planned and George was supposed to be watching Togo until the very end when she makes the jammer or something.

My least favorite puzzle in the game has got to be the stacking of the boxes and crawling towards the exit at the start to escape the fire; it’s a time-sensitive puzzle, which are usually my least favorite, and takes the mechanics of Renate’s bag puzzle and small visual distinctions, which we’ve already noted in the last meta are not particularly my jam either. I wouldn’t replace or get rid of it, it’s just my least favorite. I tend to start my game from a save I have after the puzzle — while I have to refresh on the opening occasionally, it’s better than the frustration from the combined puzzle.

I don’t have a least favorite moment from the game, to be quite honest, so let’s move on to the last section of this meta.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Alibi in Ashes?

The big thing I would change would to be to ensure that each member of Team Danger should have one culprit that likes them and one culprit that hates especially them. Nancy already has Alexei for her plus and Brenda for her minus, and Bess should keep Toni and Alexei, respectively, but both Ned and George need one more. Luckily, with four friends and four suspects, they’ll divide up evenly very easily.

My fix would be to have Ned keep Deirdre as his plus and give him Toni as his minus (local business owners usually don’t like football players for being rowdy and taking up a lot of seats, plus he’s Nancy’s boyfriend and staunchest defender).

George, meanwhile, keeps Deirdre as her minus (though flesh it out a bit more — what exactly went wrong there?) and gains Brenda as her plus. Not only would this make the endgame where she creates the jammer a little more interesting, I’d note that George and Brenda have a bit in common, due to Brenda’s technical and mechanical prowess that we see throughout the game. Throw in something with George having done a technical internship with the River Heights broadcasting network or something during high school, and we’d get a slightly different side of Brenda, even though George still dislikes her privately.

Just fixing this issue would be enough to where nothing in ASH would stand out as a real negative, but for my second, smaller fix, I’d make the friends able to call each other to change off, instead of having to call Nancy, then have her call the other person. That slows the game down and is needlessly clunky, and I’m still not quite sure why they did it.

Once those two things are fixed, there’s nothing in the way of ASH being a truly excellent game. Sure, it’s not as thematic as the few games preceding it, but it’s not supposed to be — it’s supposed to have an entertaining mystery while showing us a little more of who Nancy really is and why she does what she does, and on those (and most other) fronts, ASH is an incredibly solid, enjoyable game that I replay whenever I get the chance.

#nancy drew #clue crew #nancy drew games #alibi in ashes #nancy drew meta #long post #my meta #ASH #video games

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jadelotusflower · 3 years

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Roundup: August 2021

This month: Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea, Don’t Call it a Cult, The Secret Garden, Showbiz Kids, Masters of the Universe: Revelation, Lucifer.

Reading Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) - I’ve been meaning to read the Wide Sargasso Sea for a long, long time, but first I thought I’d revisit the source material. I find my opinion hasn’t much changed - I still love the prose, still love Jane as a character, and still find Rochester extremely unappealing. The section with Jane at school is the most engaging for me, and her early time as a governess at Thornfield, but as soon as Rochester shows up I just find him so irritating I have no idea why Jane loves him so much (other than he was the first man to ever show her a scrap of attention). I mean, I know to an extent - I've read the Takes, and part of fiction is accepting what you want for the character as a reader and what they want for themselves can be two different things, and that's not the fault of the text. I can be satisfied by the ending because Jane gets what she wants, I just can’t help but wonder about a Jane who was found by John Eyre before she went to Thornfield, or who took her inheritance and made her own way after Moor House. Byronic heroes just aren't my thing I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys) - The first Mrs Rochester of Jane Eyre strikes an uneasy tone to a modern reader; she does not utter a word in the novel, is depicted as animalistic and almost demonic, her story only told in a self-serving manner by Rochester, and conveniently disposed of so Jane can return to claim him. Rhys reimagines Bertha as Antoinette, a “white Creole” of Jamaica in a postcolonial take on the racial/social prejudices and hierarchy only hinted at in Eyre, where Bertha being Creole primarily an aspect of her Otherness, and in which Rochester describes himself as being desired as a husband because he was "of good race" . In Sea, although Antoinette is white (passing, perhaps), he sees her "not English or European either" and this contributes to his rejection of her (and perhaps his willingness to believe she is mad). The novel is surprisingly short - it skips over the meeting and courtship of Antoinette and Rochester (tellingly unnamed in the novel) entirely, jumping directly from her childhood/coming of age to the couple already married, and over much of Bertha's (renamed by Rochester) sad life in the attic. Still, there's a density to the writing, much is implied beyond the sparse use of words and recurring imagery - subjugation, reflection, and of course, fire - when freed slaves (Rhys changes the timeframe to after the passing of the Emancipation Act of 1833) set fire to Antoinette's family plantation, a pet parrot whose wings have been clipped by her English step-father Mason, cannot flee and falls to a fiery doom, in a grim omen of Bertha's fate. It did, however, leave me wanting more - I understand Rhys' stylistic choices and restraint, but in her effort to give voice to the voiceless, Antoinette/Bertha remains somewhat an enigma. Don’t Call it a Cult: Keith Raniere and the women of NXIVM (Sarah Berman) - I continue to be disturbed but intrigued by the NXIVM case, not only because of my abhorrence of MLMs/pyramid schemes, but my bafflement as to how this thoroughly unremarkable man was able to hold sway over so many women. My mild criticism of the two documentaries on this subject was that they tended to jump around in time so you never really got a good idea of what happened when. This book provides a well researched, detailed summary of events and linear chronology of Raniere’s perverse pathology reaching all the way back to childhood, and so is both an excellent supplement to the already informed, and broad overview to those new to the case. Berman is a Vancouver-based journalist who was present at Raniere’s trial and gives insight into witness testimony, supported by her own interviews and extensive research. There's less of a focus on the sensationalised celebrity members, with greater emphasis on the lesser known victims - including the three Mexican sisters who were all abused by Raniere, one of whom was kept confined to a room for years. It's difficult reading, consolation being the

knowledge that Raniere is rotting in prison and that his crimes finally caught up with him. Watching The Secret Garden (dir. Marc Munden) - Spoilers, if one needs a spoiler warning for a 110 year old novel. One of those stories that is adapted every generation, and generally I have no problem with this, since new adaptations can often bring something new or be a different take on old material (see Little Women 2019). But a part of me can’t help feel why bother with this when the perfect 1993 version exists. There is an Attempt at something new with this film, moving the setting forward to 1947 (Mary’s parents having died during the Partition), and turning the garden from a small walled secret to a mystical, huge wonderland full of ferns and flowers and endless sun. But in doing so, the central metaphor is lost - rather than Mary discovering something abandoned and run wild, gently bringing it back to life with love and care, she merely discovers a magical place that requires no effort on her part. There’s also less of a character arc for Mary, remaining unpleasant far into the proceedings, forcing Colin to visit the garden instead of it being his true wish, and generally succeeding by imposing her will on everyone else. In many ways she’s more like Burnett's other child heroine Sarah Crewe - the film opens I’m with her telling stories to her doll including Ramayana, which is eerily reminiscent of Alfonso Cuaron's (also perfect) 1995 adaptation of A Little Princess. But I suppose a sliver of credit where it's due - Julie Walters' Mrs Medlock is less of an antagonist, with Colin Firth's Lord Craven being Mary's primary obstacle. There's also a subplot with Mary's mother's depression following the death of her sister being the reason for her neglect (and Merlin alum Rupert Young shows up briefly as Mary's father) but like shifting the time period, there just doesn't seem to be a point to it. The climax of the film involves the Manor burning down (writer Jack Thorne stealing from Rebecca too, lol), with Mary and Craven have a very calm conversation as fire and smoke surrounds them. It’s all very bizarre, but also…rather dull? Don't bother with this, just watch the 1993 film again. Showbiz Kids (dir. Alex Winter) - a really interesting documentary on the titular subject - Winter was himself a child actor on Broadway before his film career kicked off in The Lost Boys and Bill and Ted, and has been able to assemble a broad range of interview subjects - Mara Wilson, Evan Rachel Wood, Wil Wheaton, Jada Pinkett Smith among others - former child actors, those still in the business, and some up and comers like Disney star Cameron Boyce (who I was sad to see in the coda has passed away). We also follow two young hopefuls - Marc, attending acting classes and auditioning in pilot season, yet to book a job but his parents are invested in "his" dream, and Demi, already established on Broadway but having to start to make choices between a career and a childhood. There's no voiceover, no expert opinions in this, letting the actors speak for themselves, but there is a telling juxtaposition of Marc returning home, jobless but having fun in the pool with his friends, while Demi has to cancel the summer camp she had been so looking forward to because she has booked a new role. The film is fairly even handed, but ultimately I took away that there just seems to be more harm than not in this industry, and abuses of many kinds. It does make you wonder about the ethics of child acting, at least in the current system where the cautionary tales are plentiful. Masters of the Universe: Revelation (episodes 1-5) - Mild spoilers I guess? I was never really into He-Man as a kid, other than the Secret of the Sword movie, so most of the in jokes and references in this went over my head. I have to admit, it was actually seeing all the outrage that made me want to check this out and see what all the complaining was about. I actually…really enjoyed it?!? I’m sympathetic to the complaints of a bait and switch (creators really need to learn to say

“just wait and see”), but other than that in my view the rest seemed completely unfounded. Adam/He-Man being killed in the first episode and the impact that has on Eternia and those left behind is actually a really interesting premise. This isn’t a TLJ situation; in contrast everyone (except Evil-Lyn) is always going on about how much they miss Adam, and the whole point of the first arc is him coming back. There’s also a nice little detail of Adam in Preternia (heroes heaven) choosing to remain as he is rather than as He-Man where all his predecessors have chosen their “ultimate” forms. I love him and his Magical Girl transformation. As for Teela - female characters can’t win, it seems. If they are perfect, they’re Mary Sues, if they have flaws, they’re unlikeable. Teela is Going Through things and is on a journey, but I often feel (and it seems the case here) that people confuse a character arc with author intent. No! Just because a character says/does something it doesn't mean you're supposed to agree with them! Some of Teela's actions may be petty and her demeanor less than sweet, but people make bad choices as a response to grief, and I actually thought her anger over Adam never telling her his secret and how that manifested was a pretty interesting take. I'll be interested to see the next half of the season, and ignore the ragebait youtube commentary. One more thing - Evil-Lyn (perfectly voiced by Lena Headey) was an absolute delight. Lucifer (season 5 part 2): They’ve basically given up on the procedural side of things by now and are leaning heavily into the mythology, which works for me since the case of the week is always the least interesting part of any show. It also struck me this season that there’s gender parity in the main cast (Lucifer, Amenadiel, Dan and then Chloe, Maze, Ella, Linda) - and actually, that’s more women than men. How often does that happen?!? I can’t say I’m particularly engaged with the Lucifer/Chloe pairing, but am happy to go along with it since that’s where the whole plot revolves. The best scenes for me this season were with God’s Dysfunctional Family, even if the lead up to the finale felt rushed (I understand the need to wrap things up in case of cancellation but still). I would have liked to see more of the sibling dynamics between the angels and less romantic drama, but hey. The character death got me, as well. I didn't see it coming and I didn't realise how much I had enjoyed that character until they were gone and well...it got me. I see the last season is coming soon, I'm not exactly sure where they can go from here, but looking forward to it nonetheless. Writing I was actually quite sick this month with a throat infection, so wasn't in the best frame of mind to get anything finished like I had planned to. I'm going to hold off posting the word count this month and roll it over to September when hopefully I've actually posted things.

#roundup #reading watching writing #august roundup

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thethistlegirlwrites · 3 years

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OC Enneagram types!

@nade2308 I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing this since the Enneagram conversation came up in the Discord, so here it is! My seven main characters (sorry, Rowan, I'm not confident enough to type a tree just yet) and their Enneagram types, plus a short explanation and some quotes about their basic type and wing!

Robin - 4w3 As a basic type of a 4, Robin sees himself as fundamentally different from other people. He isn't sure how to fit into the world, since his dual fae-human nature leaves him feeling on the outside of all of it. He feels broken and incomplete, and keeps trying to create a place that he fits. The 4 tendency to imagine a world where they can belong led him to idealize the hunter world and want to join it like his father, despite his grandfather's warnings against it. The 3 side of his personality is also involved in the effort to fit in, to make himself into an acceptable version that people will like. “Fours feel that they are unlike other human beings, and consequently, that no one can understand them or love them adequately. They often see themselves as uniquely talented, possessing special, one-of-a-kind gifts, but also as uniquely disadvantaged or flawed. More than any other type, Fours are acutely aware of and focused on their personal differences and deficiencies...Healthy Fours are willing to reveal highly personal and potentially shameful things about themselves because they are determined to understand the truth of their experience—so that they can discover who they are and come to terms with their emotional history. This ability also enables Fours to endure suffering with a quiet strength. Their familiarity with their own darker nature makes it easier for them to process painful experiences that might overwhelm other types.” “Threes learn to perform in ways that will garner them praise and positive attention.” John - 6w5 John is deeply tied to his roots, following the family tradition of becoming a hunter with no question of whether or not that was what he wanted to do. To him, duty is the highest thing to seek after, and individual personal goals must always be secondary to what has to be done. the 5 side of his identity comes into play in his work; John feels a sense of pride in working from the shadows, knowing about vampires but hiding that secret from the larger world for its own protection. Like his great-grandfather, he's the sort of person who seeks out a person to be devoted to. Until his brother died, Gabe was the tethering force in John's life. After his death, John drifted away from his home, searching for a new connection, but struggling to find it. “Sixes are the most loyal to their friends and to their beliefs. They will “go down with the ship” and hang on to relationships of all kinds far longer than most other types.”Wanting to feel that there is something solid and clear-cut in their lives, they can become attached to explanations or positions that seem to explain their situation. Once they establish a trustworthy belief, they do not easily question it, nor do they want others to do so. The same is true for individuals in a Six’s life: once Sixes feel they can trust someone, they go to great lengths to maintain connections with the person who acts as a sounding board, a mentor, or a regulator for the Six’s emotional reactions and behavior.” “Investigating "unknown territory"—knowing something that others do not know, or creating something that no one has ever experienced—allows Fives to have a niche for themselves that no one else occupies.” Kira - 5w4 Knowing she would struggle to fit into normal society because of her deafness, Kira seeks to make herself important to others by making discoveries and creating new things. She often called on the 5 tendency to rely on their knowledge and curiosity in her classes, and made a name for herself as the smart girl, not just the Deaf girl. Her passion for strange and new fields of study allowed her to keep an open mind when she first learned of the existence of vampires, and also helped her delve deeply into the lore surrounding them when she became a vigilante hunter. As she's grown, Kira has become more in touch with the 4 side of herself as well, accepting her uniqueness and seeing that as a gift. “Behind Fives’ relentless pursuit of knowledge are deep insecurities about their ability to function successfully in the world. Fives “take a step back” into their minds where they feel more capable. Their belief is that from the safety of their minds they will eventually figure out how to do things—and one day rejoin the world. Fives are not interested in exploring what is already familiar and well-established; rather, their attention is drawn to the unusual, the overlooked, the secret, the occult, the bizarre, the fantastic, the “unthinkable.” ” “Fours maintain their identity by seeing themselves as fundamentally different from others.” Cody - 2w3 Cody is at heart a giver. He grew up being the friend Robin needed, and that was such a formative part of his identity that when Robin left Rowan House to become a hunter, Cody felt adrift. As the youngest child of his family, he'd relied on his friendship with Robin as an outlet for his need to be useful and needed, since his siblings didn't seem to want the nurturing. Since then, he's channeled that into his work, where he enjoys helping people find the information or books or other help that they need at the library. While he's very selfless, Cody is also ambitious, deeply driven to create stories that he can share with the world. His drive to become a published, successful author is the main evidence of his 3 wing. "Being generous and going out of their way for others makes Twos feel that theirs is the richest, most meaningful way to live. The love and concern they feel—and the genuine good they do—warms their hearts and makes them feel worthwhile. Twos are most interested in what they feel to be the “really, really good” things in life—love, closeness, sharing, family, and friendship. Healthy Twos are the embodiment of “the good parent”: someone who sees [people] as they are, understands them with immense compassion, helps and encourages with infinite patience, and is always willing to lend a hand—while knowing precisely how and when to let go." "Threes are often successful and well liked because, of all the types, they most believe in themselves and in developing their talents and capacities. Threes want to make sure their lives are a success, however that is defined by their family, their culture, and their social sphere. No matter how success is defined, Threes will try to become somebody noteworthy in their family and their community." Maira - 9w8 Maira's basic 9 type has allowed her to navigate her world by finding the paths of lesser resistance. She's wise enough to know when to back down and seek another route to her goal, and this has gotten her far in her world. People respect her shrewd 'chess match' movements, but also like her as a person since she has managed to maintain a reputation of being even-handed, understanding, and willing to seek negotiated solutions. But making the mistake of thinking Maira is a pushover is a dangerous one. Her 8 side is strongest when she encounters an injustice or cruelty. Maira has her breaking point, and woe to the person who pushes her over it. "Peacemakers are the skilled mediators and counsellors in a group of friends or coworkers. They work hard behind the scenes in order to keep the group harmony steady and flowing. As children, they knew how to get along with each classmate, making them a great addition to any group project. They can easily see the many different sides to an issue and tend not to jump to conclusions quickly, if at all. Complacent and humble, Peacemakers are stable and gentle, willing to go the extra mile to avoid rocking the boat. Soft-spoken yet firm in their personal stances, they make an effort to neutralize tension and restore group harmony." "Eights have enormous willpower and vitality, and they feel most alive when they are exercising these capacities in the world. They use their abundant energy to effect changes in their environment—to “leave their mark" on it—but also to keep the environment, and especially other people, from hurting them and those they care about. At an early age, Eights understand that this requires strength, will, persistence, and endurance—qualities that they develop in themselves and which they look for in others." Emma - 5w6 Emma's 5 tendency to acquire esoteric knowledge is one of the reasons she's risen so rapidly in vampire society since her turning. She's learned a great deal about herself and her fellow vampires, and she uses that knowledge to her advantage. She's well known for being not only on the cutting edge of knowing what's happening in the city, but for being able to analyze that information and interpret what it will mean for the vampire community and the wider city population. Her 6 side is evident in her formation of a coven that accepts vampires who were not turned by its own members, giving outcasts or vampires who broke free from their sires like her a place of safety. "Fives think, “I am going to find something that I can do really well, and then I will be able to meet the challenges of life.” They therefore develop an intense focus on whatever they can master and feel secure about. Depending on their intelligence and the resources available to them, they focus intensely on mastering something that has captured their interest. Much of their time gets spent "collecting" and developing ideas and skills they believe will make them feel confident and prepared. They want to retain everything that they have learned and “carry it around in their heads.” " "Sixes rely on structures, allies, beliefs, and supports outside themselves for guidance to survive. If suitable structures do not exist, they will help create and maintain them." Arion - 7w8 Arion is perhaps the poster child of the dangerous side of the 7 type. A hedonistic pleasure seeker, he's driven by filling his life with whatever he enjoys. He has acquired a wide range of talents and interests. But his vampire bloodthirst is his most intense drive. Unlike some vampires who control and manage their impulses, Arion embraces them. He revels in the pleasure of drinking real blood, and sees nothing wrong with seeking it out. His 8 side makes him truly dangerous, because in addition to his craving for a life of comfort and ease, he has a powerful drive to do whatever it takes to attain that goal. While he is fully capable of luxuriating in his pleasures, he is also willing to temporarily put them aside in pursuit of one he believes will be even greater." "Sevens are enthusiastic about almost everything that catches their attention. They approach life with curiosity, optimism, and a sense of adventure, like “kids in a candy store” who look at the world in wide-eyed, rapt anticipation of all the good things they are about to experience. They are bold and vivacious, pursuing what they want in life with a cheerful determination. Sevens are compelled to stay on the go, moving from one experience to the next, searching for more stimulation." "Eights do not want to be controlled or to allow others to have power over them. Much of their behavior is involved with making sure that they retain and increase whatever power they have for as long as possible. They often refuse to “give in” to social convention, and they can defy fear, shame, and concern about the consequences of their actions. Although they are usually aware of what people think of them, they do not let the opinions of others sway them. They go about their business with a steely determination that can be awe inspiring, even intimidating to others."

Taglist: @nade2308 @cmvorra @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts @amarilloskies

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know! (Type description references taken from https://www.enneagraminstitute.com and https://www.truity.com/enneagram/9-types-enneagram)

#magic & silver #my ocs #robin #angus robinson #john stoker #kira burke #maira lawson #cody dayton #emma cole #arion #enneagram

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Codename Cupid: Chapter 3

Previous: Love at First Algorithm

Pairing: Kim Seokjin X OFC

Genre: Light Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Light College AU

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None

Summary: Kim Seokjin and Lee Euna are flirting the line between classmates and crushing, will he return her feelings?

Daddy’s Favorite & the First Date

Fall, Junior Year

Lee Euna is the youngest heiress to Lee Enterprises, one of the largest conglomerates in the history of economics. Heralded as one of the leading forces in banking and stock trades, it has banks all over the world catering to the highest cliental, princes and princesses, kings and queens all lined up to put their worth, jewels and all, in the vaults of Lee. Their smaller subsidiaries managed the trading of stocks, networking in millions of dollars for various clients who inhabited a lesser tier of society but strived to reach the upper echelon. Generational wealth, for the Lee’s and their clients, made their work heavily guarded and secretive. Getting hired by them was near impossible, and once you were in, death was the only way out.

It was a misconception that Euna had little to live up to, as her parents favorite and owner of the highest IQ out of her four siblings, she was set to become CEO, while her siblings were relegated to chairman of the board, and heads of philanthropy. The titles suited her siblings fine. Dae-Seong loved bossing around the members of the board, encouraging frivolity and billable hours while scheduling grueling development that often-bored members to tears. He ruled with an iron fist, what he said went, that is unless the CEO had a differing opinion, and then, both out of spite and seniority, Dae-Seong fell in line with what their father wanted. Dae-Seong didn’t care for the familial atmosphere their father had run Lee Enterprises with, and favored a cold regimented environment that was almost impossible to work in. Dae-Seong always said that the best blooms came from the hardest earth. Whether or not that was proven, he didn’t care, at LeeEnterprises, he would make it so.

Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min loved running the philanthropy branch of the Enterprise. They, like their father and mother, adored a good party and held several charity balls each year. Together, they raised hundreds of millions for a variety of causes that Euna barely paid attention to. The food was always exquisite, the drinks plentiful, the glimmer of the party always outshining the family feud that erupted hours before guests showed up, and the scandals that would be whispered about the morning after. Though the scandals never tarnished the reputations of Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min, they certainly provided a necessary indulgence to all the attendees.

Kwan-Min, the second oldest, was thrilled with her role in Lee Enterprises. She and Jun-Seo were heralded as visionaries, doling out millions of dollars every year to causes that ranged from climate justice to underfunded schools, and cancer research. They were responsible for funding some of the most progressive movements, as well as backing lobbyists for liberal, bordering on socialist, legislation. They dedicated an afternoon a week, usually Thursdays, to spend their time scouring the internet for new charities to donate money to. This was the heart of their jobs, finding niche organizations that were struggling, food pantries in rural towns or women’s shelters in battered parts of the city, that sustained their other work and lessened the blow of the billions in their bank accounts.

It was hard to be known as a large corporation benefiting from tax breaks while subsequently funding social movements. The family never discussed the dichotomy of their predicament, instead choosing to let their actions speak for themselves.

Anyone could donate thousands to St. Jude.

Only the Lee’s could donate a hundred million.

While Kwan-Min found satisfaction in donating to negligible organizations, Jun-Seo found bliss in hounding friends and acquaintances for money. A natural salesman, he strived on the pressure he created for himself. Nothing was ever good enough, or enough period. He was always wanting more. More money to give away, more money to spend on vacations and lavish trips, more alcohol, more clothes, everything in excess. His work, and Kwan-Min’s, was regularly overlooked by both their parents, Dae-Seong and Euna. The good they did was always outshined by the amount that Euna and Dae-Seong pulled into the business, the new dignitaries transferring their funds, the latest piece of the Queen’s jewelry put into one of their vaults. They’d always played the role of second fiddle, and as years went by, no matter their accomplishments, they were never held in the same esteem as Euna and god forbid, Dae-Seong.

If Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min were relegated to the B-Team, Euna was first off the bench for the A-Team. Every Lee child attended college, but none went to the most elite universities with the most widely renowned business program, with guarantees to intern anywhere they wanted, except Euna. Her older siblings watched as she rose through the ranks, mastering the cello, classic ballet and calculus by the time she was thirteen. They watched, with pride and in horror, as she crunched numbers in her spare time, pirouetted across the most elegant stages and slung her bow delicately against the strings of her hand made instrument. It was clear from an early age that Euna was the best of the four of them.

In fits of anger, Dae-Seong would chide that their parents had hit it out of the park with him and kept trying until they got another diamond. If fate had been on their side, Euna would’ve been second, and if the gods really favored them, she would’ve been a boy. He routinely failed to acknowledge his other siblings, whom he owed a great deal of gratitude. It was their work that kept the paparazzi and critics at bay, their work that allowed him to go on benders and run his corporate torture seminars. Their good PR paid for his mistakes, with change left over.

Dae-Seong specialized in breeding discontent, of taunting his siblings, bullying them, forcing them against each other. Euna had recognized this side of him from the time she could identify his actions weren’t full of love, but malintent. The announcement that she would train to be the next CEO had sent Dae into a blind rage, which he quickly turned into a bender in the most elusive clubs. They didn’t hear from him for a week, and when he returned, their father had lashed out at him before sending Dae to a ‘conference’ for a month. The siblings knew what had happened. The belt had come off the wall, and Dae, though grown, had succumbed to his father. Dae was sent to a ‘conference’ every two years or so, when his behavior and attitude became so unkempt that Mr. & Mrs. Lee felt they had no other option than sending him away for a month to sleep, reset, relax and most importantly, detox.

There was something so pathetic about Dae-Seong’s ability to break bad and as punishment, spend a month being massaged and covered in salt scrubs.

Euna was relieved when her parents let her move away for university and elated when Mr. & Mrs. Lee took it one step further and sent her, each summer, to work at various branches of Lee Enterprises. A summer in Seoul, a winter break in London, summer in Manhattan, another winter in London, a stop in the UAE, followed by tours of the Cayman Islands and a summer in Rio. Euna was grateful for her time away from her family and absorbed everything she was learning. She didn’t just have to prove Dae-Seong wrong, she had to prove her parents right, show that her genius wasn’t due in part to her rookie status, that her prowess and instincts weren’t dismissible as beginners’ luck.

Spending winter and summer breaks at various branches, Euna let her work speak for her. She learned how to manipulate to make a sale, how to aggregate data in order to create an accurate projection of stock trades, to look at holdings of dignitaries and suggest how they could diversify their portfolios. The more she worked, the better she became. The harder she worked, the easier it was to pretend she didn’t know anything. Euna was in for the long haul, and that meant manipulating her persona to mystify and baffle the masses. A woman in power was a threat, and she would be damned if she let the company and the world take that from her.

She had watched Kwan-Min and their mother being dehumanized in the media, in board meetings, at the hands of her father and Dae-Seong. When they gave too much of themselves, the world readily ate it up, devouring them whole. As a girl, Euna watched Kwan-Min change from intelligent and driven to flirty and ditzy. She watched her sister, who she idolized in secret, disappear into the mold their father had crafted. Euna wondered how long it would be before she had to adapt a highly manicured image? A version of herself in complete juxtaposition of her ingrained personality?

It was this turmoil, this paradox, that threw Seokjin after their first meeting. She was nothing like he’d read or seen in their years at university or in the news. Though he hadn’t paid much attention to her and would admit he knew nothing about her besides the obvious, he was constantly being surprised.

“Did you check the latest model and run the analysis?” Euna asked on a Thursday some weeks into their project.

“Yeah, and it looks like, if Dr. Cho opens the market next class period, we’re going to see a major boom,” Seokjin answered. He’d been working on looking at Euna more, particularly when she spoke to him, and she found it all the more endearing.

“How major?” She asked.

“Multi-millionaires by end of week,” Seokjin informed her.

“Good, what’s going to ruin it?” Euna set her pen down and stared at Seokjin. His lips were pouted, bangs sweeping in front of his glasses. He was beautiful.

“If some major political event happens in the next four days, or if something happens in China,”

“Ah, China,” Euna said rolling her eyes. “Always have to look out for the Chinese.”

“The American market is fairly stable, but it’s the US,”

“So, hold your breath and pray it’ll be okay?” Euna chuckled, a sound Seokjin had never heard. He laughed in response. “You have a great laugh.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jin looked back at his computer. “You know, we’ll only have to monitor the project for a few more weeks.”

“Seokjin, are you trying to tell me you’ll miss me?” Euna inquired.

“Maybe, maybe I’m trying to ask if you want to hang out, maybe get a drink or coffee outside of work hours,” Seokjin shrugged, his blasé attitude ignited something within Euna. For the months they had been working together, she’d tried and failed to get him to ask her out. His disinterest in her, in anything about her, drove her crazy. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t inquire about work or god forbid her family, or other classes she was taking, even her friends. She could have anything in the world, and yet, this man, out of reach.

“I’d like that,” She responded.

“Cool, how about coffee, this Sunday?” Jin suggested.

“I can’t Sunday, family obligations,” Euna cursed her family for what felt like the millionth time.

“Tuesday, instead of working,” Jin compromised.

“Will the numbers wait?” Euna was partially joking, which Seokjin caught immediately.

“They’re fictional numbers,” Jin reminded her.

“It’s a date,” Euna replied.

Next: Codename The First Heartbreak

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Sincerely, Yours - JJK

For the @btswriterscorner - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Jeon Jungkook hails from humble origins, his family ranked as Laborers. Since he is the youngest of three children, his time for the lottery has not come. But when it does, he refuses to conform to society’s system and runs away. Disowned, he’s now become a fugitive, taking on odd jobs here and there as a “runner-for-hire”. What he doesn’t realize is that he will find love in the most unexpected place.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female OC (Nikita Meyers)

Warnings: Strong language, vandalism, violence, interracial/intercultural relationship

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 7,607

AN: This is the companion piece to my first story, Touch In The Dark. This is the “rebel” view of what transpires in the world that I built. In all honesty, I think I may like the MYG version a little more, but I think it’s mostly from my love of hurting my own feelings. I still had a lot of fun with this one and I hope you all enjoy it. Writing for Jungkookis is always a good time. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

~ j.j. ~

Jungkook swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the edge of a nearby building. He whistled a tune to himself, a song from a life he could barely remember these days. A former Laborer, now turned Runner, Jungkook could say that he left a life that he knew wasn’t meant for him. The Class system was such a bogus way to create order and balance in the world. The Blue Bloods stayed in the upper tier and those born in poverty or with lesser means were meant to work for the rest of their days. Throw in The Lottery Bill and that was just the cherry on top of a fucked up sundae.

A soft breeze pushed against his form as he watched the sky transform into a mesh of warm colors: pinks, purples, oranges and yellows. The sun was starting to set and the world’s light would dim, blanketed by the cobalt sky littered with the few stars he was only allowed to see as he ran from rooftop to rooftop. Running free, no longer tethered to the rules of the world that dared to shackle him to a life of meaninglessness.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he scrolled through the messages and noticed the priority one at the very top. Brushing his fingers through his hair, he sighed quietly as he glanced over the message. His newest client was scheduled to meet him in an hour. It was a standard escort job. It wouldn’t be too hard and the pay was decent.

In their society, it was a crime to “fall in love” with anyone. Period. Not even the spouse that was chosen during an individual’s Lottery drawing. Love fueled emotions that often led to the ruins of others. Passion had the potential to overshadow logic and reason. When logic and reason were cast aside, only terrible things happened. Emotions were just bad things and led to bad times.

Jungkook didn’t buy into that horseshit.

It was the main reason he abandoned his station in life and lived in the moment. He didn’t worry about yesterday. He could care less about tomorrow. Today was all that mattered and all that would matter when it was finally said and done.

He slid his thumb over the screen, dialing the number of his new “job” detail. The man answered quickly, interrupting the second ring.

“Is this Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook smirked at the hushed tone in the man’s voice. “It is. Is this Min Yoongi?”

“Yes,” he replied softly, as if trying to gauge Jungkook’s own tone, “were you able to secure safe passage for both my wife and me?”

Clambering to his feet, he dusted off the backs of his weathered jeans and knocked a bit of dirt off his boots. “That’s not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. That was taken care of by a different handler.”

He knew he was being a little shit, but sometimes it was all about asking the right questions.

There was a semi-long pause from the other end of the line, followed by a slow sigh of what could be presumed as mounting exasperation.

“So why was I directed to you?”

Jungkook’s grin grew a little wider. “Because I’m the one who’s going to get you out in one piece.”

“I see,” Yoongi said, as if he was mulling over something, “so you’re a Runner.”

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s right.”

“I just hope you’re as fast as that mouth of yours.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I’m faster, trust me.” Pushing back the sleeve of his jacket, he spied the time. “I’ll meet you at the Square in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

And without waiting for a reply, Jungkook ended the call. Pulling out his earbuds, he connected the jack to the phone and slipped the buds on. It didn’t take him long to find the song he wanted, cranking up the volume as the intro crescendoed slowly. Inhaling lungfuls of air, he stretched his arms out wide and then raised them up so they were parallel with his head. Once he loosened up the muscles, he rolled his neck and hopped up and down - shaking his arms for good measure.

He always had to psyche himself up for things like this.

As soon as the balls of his feet hit the ground, Jungkook lunged forward. Up and over the edge of the roof. The world rushed by him in a blur of motion, his dark hair flying off his forehead. The night was cool, but the wind stung his eyes - making them water. He quickly wiped at them, curling his body inward and then extending his limbs. The concrete scraped at the pads of his fingers, but it didn’t take him long to realign his body, forcing his lower half to swing off to the side so that he could catch the railing of the fire escape.

The bars rattled violently when his heels planted themselves onto the platform, but he was already climbing up the bars to reach the next rooftop. Once Jungkook made it over the edge, his legs pumped the ground in tandem with his heavily beating heart.

Unconsciously, his mouth spread into a wide open smile.

Free-running. They couldn’t have called it something better if they tried.

Sweat broke out across his brow and the pulse of the song’s bass seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body. With every jump, lunge, catch and pull he performed, Jungkook’s elation only seemed to climb. It would be too soon if he could never run as free as he was now.

Heaving and halfway covered in perspiration, Jungkook arrived at the designated meeting spot within fifteen minutes. It gave him just enough time to grab a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine, emptying half the contents over his head and soaking his hair. Onlookers peered at him curiously, but he didn’t pay them any attention. He almost never did. He drained what was left in the bottle, savoring the feeling of re-hydrating himself.

Craning his neck, he located a nearby waste bin and was about to toss the bottle into it - arms stretched like he was shooting a basketball into a hoop.

He stumbled forward suddenly, his body pushed forward from an unexpected impact. Grunting, he quickly pivoted on his heels to see who was responsible, but all he caught sight of was a ball cap flying in his line of sight as auburn curls flew past him. Jungkook reached out and snatched the hat out of the air as the owner turned to catch a glimpse of him.

Her dark gray eyes glared at him, catching Jungkook off guard. Despite living in South Korea, Jungkook was used to foreigners. But he certainly didn’t remember seeing someone with those eyes and soft caramel skin. Her hair looked dyed, but it strangely suited her.

Jungkook took a step forward, holding her hat out to her. Instead of taking it back, she continued to shift her gaze from him and then to the hat. He grinned.

“Not even a thank you, huh? You don’t want this back?” He waved the cap back and forth, as though he were trying to keep a cat’s attention on him. “Is this mine now?”

He hadn’t seen her move. In fact, he didn’t even realize she’d closed what small distance existed between them. Not until Jungkook felt a soft burst of pain near his stomach. The wind was knocked from him almost immediately and all he could manage was a wide-eyed stare at her.

She grinned, twisting her fist into his stomach a little more. “Not a chance, you fucking tool,” replied the girl.

Jungkook collapsed to one knee when she took a step back, her hat not back in her possession. He struggled to reclaim what air was stolen from him, one dark brown eye glaring up at her. Not to say that women were weak, but he hadn’t expected a punch from a pretty girl to hurt this much.

Hopping back on one foot, she waved the hat at him in a farewell gesture before sliding it back onto her head. She turned and bolted from the square without so much as a second glance at him. He coughed, rubbing at his chest in an attempt to regulate his breathing again.

Wow, what a bitch, he thought, but Jungkook found himself smirking once the pain subsided.

Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.

“Are you alright?”

The voice jarred him from his thoughts and he quickly scrambled to his feet. He was face to face with his temporary charge, Min Yoongi. Standing beside him was a woman with dark brown curls, hazel eyes, and mocha skin. She peered at Jungkook curiously, her hand laced through Yoongi’s. She was also a foreigner from what he could tell, and well-known through the news as the “Charity Selection” picked from The Lottery two years ago.

He folded his arms across his chest. “This might be a little difficult.”

Yoongi lofted a brow. “And why is that?”

“Well,” Jungkook began, taking a few steps toward them before circling around both of them, “your wife’s kinda popular.”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “So you’re not going to be able to help us?”

“I didn’t say that.” He held a hand up and then waved it through the air, as if shooing away a gnat. “I just said that it’ll be a little difficult. Not impossible.” Jungkook met their gazes and grinned. “I got this. Trust me.”

~ n.m. ~

“Nikita, that was reckless.”

Removing the baseball cap, she roughly ran her fingers through her curls while scoffing. She carelessly tossed the parcel onto the table. “What does it matter? I got you what you asked for.”

The man seated at the table steepled his fingers, dark eyes peering over his knuckles at her. Nikita waited for him to say something, but he merely sighed and began to untie the twine wrapped around the brown paper packaging. It was his way of dismissing her, but letting Nikita know that she wasn’t completely off the hook. He’d find a way to pay her back and it wouldn’t be pretty.

She knew this because it wouldn’t be the first time.

Not wanting to press her luck, Nikita quickly vacated the office and closed the door behind her. She rested her shoulder against the door frame, mentally kicking herself for what she’d said. She knew she didn’t mean it, and yet she continued to come off as cold and unfeeling in these situations. Nikita was about to slam her head into the door when someone suddenly cleared their throat beside her.

“Keep it up and you’re going to put Minjae Hyung into an early grave.”

Craning her neck, she cut her eyes at the shaggy-haired individual - his shit-eating grin never failing to irritate her.

“Shut-up, Taegi-ah,” she snipped, walking past him. Predictably, he followed but Nikita ignored him, focusing her attention on the warehouse.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Nikki-ah,” he whined at her back.

She rolled her eyes. Nikita hated that nickname and he knew it. She also knew that he didn’t care that she hated it.

Because that was the kind of person Yoon Taegi was.

A pain in her goddamn ass.

But she couldn’t hold it against him. Because he was the one who helped her break the chains the world decided to put on her the day she was born. Without him, she knew she would still be living the life of a woefully ignorant aristocrat - blind to the truth of society’s agenda. Nikita lived in a castle made of glass and didn’t understand her purpose outside of being a breeding agent for some future husband she would never be able to relate to.

When the day came for her to be matched with her significant other, Nikita was ready to accept that lot in her life. She was prepared to walk down the path that she was groomed for. What reason did she have to believe otherwise; to be aware that there was something else beyond the veil?

The truth wasn’t known to her until she saw a couple being arrested on the streets - cuffed and pulled away from each other. They screamed until their throats were raw, and then continued yelling for each other. They managed to share one final kiss until each were thrown into separate police cars and driven away to be incarcerated.

Their fates were declared on international television.

Taegi was the man she’d seen carted away and three months later, he broke out of prison. As punishment, the woman he loved was put to death. It was their attempt to shatter his spirit, to break him.

They failed.

Sighing, she looked at Taegi’s smug expression and couldn’t help marveling at how far they’d come. A loaf of bread, cheese and meat was all it took to barter for the truth. Taegi gave it to her and Nikita knew she could never go back to her life of privilege. Not if there were people she could help in the process. It didn’t take her long to find herself pulled into Rebel circles - all of them graciously accepting her into their fold.

hree years passed since then and Nikita didn’t regret leaving her family or her “duty” behind. She was free and she was fighting for a cause that meant something. Even if she’d never experienced it for herself.

Love.

Sliding the metal door aside, Nikita stepped into the warehouse. The smell of gunpowder and kerosene instantly filled her nostrils - causing her eyes to water slightly. She quickly wiped at them and sniffed, fishing through a crate on a nearby table. Her hands stilled momentarily as she felt Taegi’s palms slip over her shoulders. He squeezed them gently and she sighed, hanging her head a measure as her eyes stared into the box of homemade pipe bombs and hand grenades.

“Sometimes I worry that the fighting is never going to end,” Nikita said softly.

Taegi rubbed her shoulders in a comforting motion before moving away from her to lean against the table. He folded his arms across his chest, his face lifting to the ceiling. “It’ll stop one day. We just have to stand strong and in solidarity.”

Nikita shrugged, pulling out a few pipe bombs. “I just hope we’re around long enough to see it.”

She checked the fuses, gauging their length, before placing them back in the box. She set one hand grenade out, flicking a finger over the pull pin. After making sure that it was secure, she dropped it into her messenger bag and moved to the next crate. It contained knives of varying shapes and sizes. She opted for a switchblade of decent length, slipping it into her back pocket.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out, she scanned the message on her screen. It was from Minjae, as expected. He was sending her on another assignment. There was another potential ally they could have on their side versus running amok on the streets.

Turning to move to another table, she felt Taegi’s hand grasping at her arm. She looked at him and saw the worry lines etched across his forehead. Nikita couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You just got back and you’re already prepping to head out again.” He frowned. “You’re like a machine, woman.”

“Can’t help it,” she said, chuckling slightly, “I’m not one to sit around and do nothing.”

“It’s not about doing nothing. It’s about resting. You’ve been gone for three days.” Taegi sighed, releasing his hold on her. “Hyung can’t pass this off to someone else?”

“Nope.” Nikita shook her head. “Recruitment’s my main gig. You know this. Besides…” She paused, meeting Taegi’s gaze, her own expression softening a bit. “...if we don’t have more people on our side, what good is any of this? It’s never going to stop until every last one of us are either dead or re-educated. Numbers mean everything.”

Looking back at the phone, she opened the file Minjae sent her. It was the most current dossier on a person willingly living off the grid. They had been for some time now.

She recognized his picture immediately. He was the guy she’d run into earlier that day. The same guy she punched in the gut for teasing her when she was in the process of playing “courier” for their group.

Nikita couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her. Taegi looked at her curiously but she shook her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. This was going to be interesting. Maybe he’d hear her out despite the terrible first impression she’d given.

My job just got a little bit harder. Great.

~ j.j. ~

Jungkook lazily sprawled himself out on the largest branch of an old tree near the edge of town. Swiveling a toothpick between his teeth, he looked around at the people who passed below him obliviously. It amused him, in a way, how they could mindlessly continue with their lives. They were like sheep to the slaughter, unaware of the truth of things.

Then again, he didn’t really know what the “truth” was himself.

All that mattered to him was no longer having a label stamped on his body as though it were a badge of shame. Society deemed that he was destined to be poor. Society claimed that his ideal match would be someone of their choosing. Society was right and the average person didn’t need to question this.

Well, society could go eat a bag of dicks.

Again, his phone buzzed. He picked it up from where he had it laying on his chest to stare at it - the screen illuminating his face in the shadows. It was another job forwarded by his employer. Sighing, he opened up the dossier of the person he was sent to help this time. When he saw the picture, however, Jungkook sat up so fast that he nearly fell out of the tree.

It was her. The woman who nailed him in the gut without batting an eyelash. The woman whose dark auburn curls and gray eyes failed to vacate his mind.

He was immediately suspicious.

Normally he would forward a job he didn’t want to another Runner. It wasn’t like Jungkook was hurting for money. In fact, he was planning on taking a small vacation soon - taking himself off the grid completely for a few weeks before coming back. But his curiosity was a damning thing and he didn’t mind being damned if it meant knowing who this woman was.

Nikita Meyers. 25. Former Blue Blood. Currently wanted by authorities due to her association with various Rebel factions throughout the world.

Blinking, he read through the short blurb again to make sure that he wasn’t misinterpreting anything. But what was there to misinterpret? This woman had it all and threw everything away to be a fugitive? Like him? He didn’t get it. Wasn’t the high life a life of pleasure and carefree days?

Why would she ever want to toss it away for the gritty life?

Jungkook frowned, thinking back on the life he left behind. He refused to conform to society’s whims and ran away from home when it was time for him to have his partner chosen through The Lottery Bill. He didn’t know what love was and he wasn’t sure if he wanted any part of it if the government was hell-bent on minimizing it throughout the globe. Jungkook could admit that he did stupid things when he was emotionally unstable, hence why he was living the life he currently was in the first place. But he also wasn’t too keen on the idea of bending to the whims of others.

Even so…

Sliding his thumb over the screen, he dialed the number his contact provided for him. It rang three times before someone answered. Her voice filled his ears and he leaned his back against the trunk of the tree as he listened.

“Jungkook-ssi?”

He smirked. “Oh, are we using polite words now?”

He heard a sigh from the other line. “I won’t apologize for what I did. I had my reasons.”

“Sure you did.” His tone dripped of sarcasm, but Jungkook felt his smile growing wider. “It’s alright. I forgive you anyway.”

“You’re so gracious. So, are you gonna help me or are you gonna pass me off so I’m someone else’s problem?”

His lips formed into a small ‘O’ while he scratched the side of his nose. “Is that normal for you?”

Nikita scoffed. “I don’t make it a habit to become a problem for anyone in the first place.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied while shifting his position to stand on the tree branch, “it’s fun to be problematic.”

“I’m sure you’d know that.”

“Of course. That's why I said it.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Jungkook was going to help her. He’d made that decision the minute he saw her picture on his phone as the next job he was supposed to take. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have fun with her about it.

“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have some free time slotted in my schedule.”

“Good. Now come down from that tree and meet me face-to-face.”

His smile fell from his face and he sat up again, looking around in every direction. He quickly craned his neck down and saw she was standing below the tree he was currently perched in. For a long moment, the two of them just stared at each other - each of them holding their phones to their faces; listening to the other person breathing.

Then he saw her smile up at him. It was a smile that clearly said that she knew more than he did; that she’d gotten the best of him. A smile full of secrets, daring someone to try to discover them.

It was a smile that made his heart twist sharply in his chest.

Hanging up the phone, he slid it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Without batting an eyelash, Jungkook effortlessly hopped off the tree branch, landing with an unnecessary flourish in front of her. Nikita slid her phone into her pocket as he slid his palms over the thighs of his jeans.

Again, neither said anything. They just took in each other’s presence.

Now that he got a better look at her, Jungkook was at least half a head taller than her. The strap to a dark gray messenger bag was pressed across her chest at an angle, enhancing the swell of her bosom. Other than that, there was nothing else about her that would elicit inappropriate thoughts. No skin showed outside of her bare neck, face, and thin wrists peeking out from the sleeves of her dark green field jacket. She wore charcoal gray cargo pants stuffed into a pair of shin length combat boots. A black newsboy hat adorned the top of her head this time.

“So,” Jungkook said, finally breaking the silence, “where am I escorting the lovely lady?”

“We’re too exposed here.” Nikita moved past him and he pivoted on his heels to follow after her.

They were heading back into the city.

Just as he was about to suggest they could go somewhere a little more private to chat, she hopped onto a nearby dumpster and scaled up the fire escape as easily as snapping her fingers. Jungkook slowly arched his neck, watching her fling herself up one iron landing until her body swung in a half arc to allow her the reach she needed to grasp onto the edge of the building’s rooftop. Her booted feet scraped over the brick, crumbling small bits to the ground until she disappeared over the edge.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he mumbled, his smile returning. This woman was just full of surprises.

“Are you comin’ or not?” she called down to him.

Not like he needed to be asked twice. Jungkook made a game of it, determined to scale the building in half the amount of time she had. Once he reached the top, he pulled himself over the edge in time to see her running at full speed across the building.

“Hey!” he shouted after her, his own legs eating at the ground in hot pursuit, “Wait a minute!”

But just as he was starting to close the distance, Nikita jumped from the building and curled her body inward. Jungkook was almost to the edge and was preparing his own dismount when he saw her successfully clear the gap. She grabbed onto one of the metal pipes and swung herself into an open window. Jungkook didn’t have a chance to relish in the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his eyes memorizing her movement patterns so he could follow the trail she was leaving for him.

Dust filled his nostrils, causing him to cough from the onslaught to his senses. The room smelled of old wood and mold. The building had long since been abandoned and there was clearly no interest in changing its state of disrepair. The boards creaked under each step that was taken and Jungkook mentally worried if the floor would crack and collapse right beneath him.

A beam of bright light blinded him and he hissed, moving his forearm to cover his eyes.

“Yo, what’s the deal?!”

His words sounded snappish, which hadn’t been his intention, but what did anyone expect when suddenly rendered unable to see?

“Sorry,” Nikita said, lowering the light to give him a chance to adjust to the darkness, “I wanted to make sure you were right behind me.”

Jungkook rubbed his fists into his eyes gingerly, shaking his head to blink the golden spots away from his vision. “It’s fine.”

She gestured with the flashlight toward the stairs. “Follow me. And watch your step.”

Everything in the building seemed ancient and forgotten. Jungkook swore he heard it groan in response to their presence there. It gave him an eerie sort of vibe that he wasn’t sure he wanted to really wrap his head around.

Once they reached the ground floor, Nikita disappeared through a door to the right. It looked like an office building of some kind now that he got a better look at it. He could hear her roughly pulling at drawers from what he assumed were old metal filing cabinets. Jungkook took a lean against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest as more dust flew in the air from Nikita’s manic investigation methods.

“Need any help?”

She slammed a drawer closed and yanked at another one, fingers dancing over the folders. “I’m good.”

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “So what is this place?”

“Used to be a Public Records office until everything became digitized and moved to the various data hubs all over the globe.”

“And now?”

Nikita pulled out a folder and sifted through the papers inside. “Now it’s a place for squatters and a go-between for Rebel units.”

Jungkook hummed in understanding. But something puzzled him.

“So why are we here?”

Turning to face him, she waved the envelope at him. “Gathering intel for another client.”

“Wait.” He stepped inside the room. “This isn’t an escort job, but a recon mission?”

Nikita grinned, shutting the drawer closed with her hip. “Yup.”

He frowned. “Then why was I hired for this? You do know that I’m a Runner, right?”

“I know.” She stuffed the envelope into her bag, using the beam of her flashlight to rifle through whatever contents were also inside. “I know exactly who you are, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know why, but he didn’t like what she was insinuating with those words.

Nikita pulled something else from her bag, but it was too dark for him to see. Using her other hand to secure the bag’s clasp, she stepped toward the window and slid it open. Jungkook watched her poking her head out, presumably to see if anyone else was coming. It was dark and most people had normal work schedules so there wasn’t a chance for anyone to be out after midnight.

Well, except for them.

“It’s a waste.”

“What?” Jungkook slightly tilted his head, confused. “What is?”

“You left everything behind the same time I did, but all you’ve done is float through life without a care in the world.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “It’s a waste.”

Rolling his eyes, he frowned. “What the hell do you know?”

He didn’t appreciate her judgmental attitude toward him. It wasn’t like she knew him. It wasn’t like she understood what he’d gone through up until that point. Living off the grid wasn’t easy and it wasn’t for everyone. Sure, he could have gone back home and ponied up. He could have turned to those fighting against society’s rules and regulations, seeing refuge from a dying world. But he wasn’t about to let himself become dependent on anyone. Being dependent on others equated to marginalized freedom and Jungkook didn’t want that either.

Even if it he had to remain alone to maintain it.

“I know you’re a Runner,” she said, flashing a shit-eating grin at him, “so I suggest you do what you’re good at. Running.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure what she was getting at. But before he could question her further, something fell to the ground. It rolled across the floor and into the sliver of light that leaked in through the window from the streetlamp outside.

It was a hand grenade.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Jungkook barely heard his own voice through the panic cadence of his heartbeat.

Nikita reached out to grab his hand, pulling him toward her. “RUN!”

They both tumbled out the window, rolling onto the grass in a tangle of limbs. They dislodged themselves from each other, frantically scrambling to their feet as they hurried to put as much distance between them and the building as possible. The heat from the explosion pressed against Jungkook’s back, forcing his body to lurch forward. Something cut the side of his face and he grunted as his shoulder collided with the concrete. He thought he heard someone calling him, but it was hard to make out from the soft ringing in his ears and the alarms going off.

“Shit,” he muttered as he sat up on all fours, shaking his head back and forth to chase away his rattled nerves.

Someone grabbed roughly at his jacket, yanking him up to his feet. His face was inches from Nikita’s, her stormy eyes reflecting the fire and smoke eating away at the building behind him.

“Come on,” she said, her hand reaching out to grasp his, “we have to go!”

He didn’t have time to yell at her. He simply followed her direction. Besides, he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t just walk away from this. Jungkook was an accomplice - willingness be damned.

He was a Rebel now.

~ n.m. ~

She’d be lying if she hadn’t planned it out that way. Nikita never had any intention of outright asking Jungkook if he would join their cause. Instead, she chose to be a dirty bitch about it - forcing his hand and leaving him no other option but to stand at their side. The Rebels weren’t necessarily losing, but they weren’t winning, either. The more skilled people they had on their side, people like Jungkook, the more likely they would win against society’s preconceived notion of what “success” and “happiness” was.

Nikita did it because she knew that they had to have him. That she had to have him. She didn’t feel guilty about taking him away from the life he’d chosen for himself.

A month later, however, the guilt started rearing its ugly little head. Usually in the dead of night; when the urge to smoke overtook her. She puffed on a cigarette, her thoughts swirling around in her head like a busted washing machine in desperate need of repair. Minjae told her that she didn’t need to tell him the truth about that day; what her intention was. She normally never questioned Minjae or his motives.

Now? Another month passed. She wasn’t so sure anymore..

A strong gust of wind pushed up against her body, causing her to take a half a step forward. The wind was always powerful the higher a person was. But the rooftop of their hideout was the only place she could find any solace. More and more people were joining their cause, but more people meant less space. Maybe it was the former high-privileged snob in her, but she liked being able to have a little breathing room in her life.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here,” a voice said from behind her.

She turned to glance over her shoulder, seeing that it was Jungkook. Her brows furrowed, a soft ache building at the center of her chest. But she didn’t say anything. He took a step back, his hand reaching behind him so he could push the door back open.

Nikita exhaled a thin stream of smoke, tapping the ash off the side of the building. “Stay if you want.” She shifted her gaze back to look at the twilight sky. “You don’t have to leave.”

The door closed, but the sound of feet shuffling closer toward her caused her to release a silent breath of relief. She didn’t want the awkward feeling to continue between them, and in the last month Jungkook proved himself useful. He never demanded to leave, because the people around him wanted him to stay. It made Nikita wonder if he’d never felt a sense of community before now; if he’d always been alone.

She was decent enough not to ask.

“No assignments. That’s rare.” He said it so easily, like he’d been a Rebel for years.

Shrugging, she lifted the cigarette to her lips. “Can’t be busy all the time. Batteries need charging and all that shit.”

He chuckled, sidling up beside her but giving her at least three feet of space. Nikita cast him a sidelong glance, watching him lean against the railing with his forearms.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jungkook reached into his pocket and pulled out a toothpick. She raised a brow, unable to force back the smirk forming on her face. It was a habit she’d never understand, but it strangely suited him. She shook her head as he clamped his teeth over the twig, making it swivel back and forth with his tongue.

“What about you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m heading out in two days.”

Nikita wouldn’t ask him where. It was better if she didn’t know. The less she knew, the less likely Jungkook would be compromised should something happen while he was away.

For a while, neither of them said anything. She finished her smoke, tossing the cigarette butt off the edge. Jungkook was focused on the starry night sky, so she knew he didn’t notice her looking at him. His hair shifted in back and forth motions from another gust of wind. He looked so lost in thought, yet completely relaxed.

Anything could happen between now and tomorrow. Jungkook could turn his back on them and possibly reveal everything he’d learned to the authorities. Or he could just get captured or killed. There were no guarantees in the world they were both fighting against and fighting for.

“I’m sorry,” Nikita said, surprised at herself with how suddenly the words came tumbling out.

“Huh?” Jungkook straightened up to his full height, flashing her a confused look. “What for?”

“I put us in that situation back then so that you’d have no choice but to come with us.”

He appeared to not understand what she was getting at. Was he really so gullible? Or was he just that innocent? How had the world not broken him?!

Nikita closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip that was already beginning to tremble. “I purposefully set you up. I forced you to become a Rebel.”

She couldn’t see him, much to her relief. But the sound of her heart hammering roughly against her ribs drowned out the sounds of the city. If he was saying anything at that moment, Nikita was confident she wouldn’t have heard him.

“I know.”

Those two words pierced through her loudly pounding heartbeat. Opening her eyes wide, she jerked her head to face him. He was closer to her now, but still wearing that gentle expression. The one of someone who understood something that she hadn’t been able to glean. The kind of expression that told volumes about a person’s life.

About the pain they were forced to endure.

“I know you did. And that’s okay.”

She blinked up at him, gobsmacked by his words. “Wh-What?”

How could he say that it was okay? What part of what she said was okay? As far as Nikita was concerned, none of this was okay!

“Because it was only after being here, I realized why you did. To me, that’s all that matters.”

Nikita’s brows furrowed in disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was like she’d lost the ability to speak or even formulate coherent phrases.

He continued.

“I’m a Runner. You said it yourself, running is what I’m good at. People only ever needed me to run for them. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

She watched him take a step toward her.

~ j.j. ~

Nikita looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Jungkook felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach; like something was fluttering inside of it. He wondered if he looked the same. If he had that same expression on his own face. Jungkook hoped he didn’t, but he felt weirdly calm. He couldn’t quite place why, other than he believed everything he was saying at that moment.

And he believed that Nikita would hear him; truly hear him.

Because for damn near two months, Jungkook couldn’t get Nikita out of his mind.

“My family didn’t care about me running away from my responsibilities. If they did, they would be looking for me now.”

He took another step forward, his eyes flicking downward to see if Nikita was going to take a step back. She didn’t, and that strange feeling in his stomach intensified.

“My two siblings are making up for my shortcomings. They’re happy and so I kept running. Here. There. Everywhere. It never mattered where I was or how long I was gone. Because running is what I do.”

Nikita looked like she was really listening to him. He knew it because of how focused her eyes were; shaking.

“J-Jungkook,” she stammered.

He knew he should take a step back. Reassess things and think about just what the hell was tumbling from his mouth. It wasn’t like he’d planned this and he hadn’t expected for her to apologize for making him a sucker. One day was all he needed to figure it out. After the initial internal battle he had with himself died down, Jungkook was planning to get the hell out of that place. He would play nice and then bounce. Simple as that.

But one day turned into one week. Then two. Then three.

Until a month passed by.

He realized it hadn’t bothered him as much as he initially thought. Because in that short amount of time, he saw Nikita in ways that he was sure she didn’t realize was being showcased. Jungkook discovered every nuance about her as their paths crossed every single day. From the way she preferred hats with bills than beanies, to how she would scratch at the bridge of her nose when she was annoyed. She preferred dogs over cats, but had a special kind of love for horses. She liked dark liquors and she hated beer. Nikita hated mornings, but she would always get up early to see the sunrise before going back to sleep.

And she was one helluva free runner.

Taking one more step forward, there was now less than a foot of space between Nikita and him. Again, he looked down to see if she would step back. And again, she didn’t.

“For the first time in a while, no one wants me running anymore. And when I have to run, I know I have a place to run back to. Because there are people waiting for me.”

He reached out to grasp her wrists, feeling her pulse jumping with life beneath his palms. For a split second, he suddenly felt self-conscious that his hands might be cold, clammy, or all of the above. But Jungkook selfishly refused to let go. He would apologize later for it if she shoved him aside.

Or off the building.

He waited - the soft clouds of breath meeting hers as she breathed out in sync with him. Nikita didn’t move or was thinking about what to do at that moment. Jungkook knew he needed to hurry and say what was churning inside of him.

What he’d been wanting to say for almost a week now.

“Because people like you are waiting for me.”

His hands moved from her wrists, slowly gliding up her arms until his palms slid over the delicate curve of her shoulders. Jungkook even knew how strong she was under all the bulky clothes she wore. It was how people kept underestimating her. It was how she survived.

But even under that strength was a gentle and compassionate woman. A woman who cared about the people around her. A woman who decidedly left her comfortable entitlement to help anyone suffering under the injustice of the world’s system. A woman who cried in mourning for those who could not be with the ones they loved.

Jungkook’s hands cupped her neck, using his thumbs to stroke over Nikita’s jawline. He gently pressed them to her chin, lifting her face to his. He could see the tears forming in her eyes and he paused, feeling his own hands trembling. Could he afford to hesitate? Could he really let this moment pass by, only to fade away into the darkness where it would never return to see the light of day?

He had to keep trusting her. Trust that she would keep listening.

“Jungkook, what are you--?”

“I love you.”

Jungkook felt like his insides were going to fall straight out of him. He said it. His nerves felt liquefied, but he said it.

“W-What?”

“I love you, Nikita.”

Not wanting her to push him away, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her gasp in his mouth and he waited for her to retaliate. To kick and scream and threaten to toss him over the side to his death. He would have deserved it. His death would be justified.

But Nikita didn’t shove him to the side. No. And he lifted his lips from hers when he felt her hands cupping his elbows. What tears were in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. Jungkook saw her brows furrow, but there was a watery smile now on her face.

And then he kissed her again, harder. His hands left her face so he could wrap his arms around her, fully pulling her up against him. He needed her close. Closer than he’d ever been able to get to her. The need was terrible and he didn’t want to chase it away. He sucked in air through his nose, drinking in the subtle smell of her shampoo. Nipping and tugging at her lips between his teeth and tongue, he relished the soft taste of ash from the cigarette she smoked earlier. But there was a hint of peppermint. Nikita always ate a peppermint before smoking because she despised the taste.

Jungkook would continue his mission of getting her to quit.

They parted the kiss long enough to get air. He could just barely see her through the clouds of their breaths. Even in the dark, her eyes seemed to glow. He loved how Nikita always looked like she could see right through him.

“I fell in love with you. I don’t know how. I don’t know why.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers as their noses touched. “I just did. I just do.”

Turning to bury his nose into the curve of Nikita’s neck, he smiled against her skin.

“It’s okay if you don’t right now. We have as much time as we need to figure it out. Until then, just let me keep loving you as you are now. As I am now.”

Her body shook with how roughly she was nodding her head. Jungkook pressed his fingers against the back of her neck as he held her aloft. And for awhile, that’s all they did. Hugged each other. He could feel how hard their hearts were hammering against each other. All the anxiety and hesitation felt like it was bleeding out of him.

Nikita laughed a little. “Damn,” she whispered.

Jungkook smirked. “What?”

“Guess this means I love you too.”

They shared a laugh. He leaned forward to pull her into a hug. Jungkook appreciated how good it felt to know her arms were around him. It may have been a selfish beginning, but it wouldn’t be a selfish end.

He knew things would get harder from now on. But that was okay. Because the hole in his heart was full.

Because he loved this woman in his arms.

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quintiliusheartripper · 4 years

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(Baos GW2 Characters part 1)

Quintilius The Heart (or Heartripper)

Born: 1298

Height: 6'3"

Coming from a long line of Ash legion Torturers since Kala’s days, his narcissistic dame was ashamed she had a cub with a gladium, hiding the pregnancy and leaving quint to a fahrar only a week after his birth. He would eventually be picked up by her again when he was only 8 and would train as she had in the field that the bloodline has worked in for decades.

Cursed to go beserk when smelling blood by his mother as she died, beliving he would turn into a flame legioner like his spy father, he lost his position in the ash legion but would be picked up by the blood legion as a soldier. He rose to the ranks quick, becoming a centurion due to his skillful tactics and the fact he made sure as many, preferably all, soldiers came back from missions. He was also known for sleeping around. A lot.

If it hadnt been for a mission he was given due to the fact he was one of the more…charismatic and lesser threatening charr he most likely would have retired as a primus or commit suicide but destiny and greater forces had something else in mind. He was assigned to be a bodygaurd and tour guide for a kodan who said he was a Voice that came to the citadel in hope for help. The two of them instantly hitting it off, quint being knowledgeable and open while Stray Cry would give affection he would never seen. Smodur would even give the voice a small warband, quints warband. This charr who slept around, drank, and even in his youth did drugs, only wanted to be loved unconditionally and he had found it with Stray Cry and his Claw of Koda Stoic Mountain.

By the present day in Guild Wars 2, Quintilius fully lives with the kodan, having retired from the legions after a traumatic event with his father and the battle to death. Quint won and had no reason left to be tied to the legions, being an outcast since he was a cub. Being Nonbinary and having fun with the bears using potions, quint has 4 cubs, each snowy white, looking like kodan, but with two sets of ears and eventually growing horns. he hopes his hands will never be forced to teach them his bloodlines work. Regardless, while it took awhile for the kodan to fully accept him and years of learning traditions and religious text, Quint is happily accepted into the sanctuary, which was thankfully lax beforehand anyway. He is called The Heart- mostly because without him the Claw and Voice would have continued to have issues reconnecting and has been a valuable member of the community.

Tryphon Mistsail

Born: 1289

Height: 10’

His mother, a blood legion soldier, dissented from the legions to become a pirate after falling in love with a human. Pregnant, she ended up having a son who would grow up on the pirate ship, taking her warband name as his last name. Untill he was a older child he loved it, he had a friend, a mute human girl, who with her parents helped make a sign language for, and had a few other friends who were also born among these ships. His life became a lot more unfortunate when he was 8 untill he was 15 when things turned around. he decided to be the captain of his own ship, telling this to his mother and the current captain. He would be scoffed at but given a small boat as long as they kept as business partners. An asura, curious about how everything would go down, ended up joining the three man ship consisting of a gigantic charr and his mute human friend. Being a gaurdian at this time and his co-captain being a necromancer, proficient with minions, they fumbled their way onto a ship carrying second born sylvari. Now tryphon has rules… They dont steal from the obvious poor, they leave civilians, and absolutely, no matter what, they do not traffick living beings. And the very fact that these asura were doing just that made him rage. He would storm the ship unexpecting such a attack from such a small group of people and he would be the one to come out alive. He still has many sylvari friends and has ties with the bank at the grove because of this.

Now days, a revenant, he goes between stealing from those participating in the mist wars, stealing from the rich and wealthy in elona, selling remade goods at cheap prices to the poor, and making Evon furious with the missing cargo.

How long will his reign as a mighty pirate last though…? when will he let his gaurd down and lose his ship and crew?

(*He has two plot versions.. one he meets Velak of @follow-the-velak after his ship is ambushed and hes the only one left alive and the other he continues pirating untill the day he dies)

Uriah Cloudpaw

Born: 1304

height: 6’

An Albino Charr with no magic… The last thing his father, a mesmer flame legion shaman wanted. His father was a ash legion soldier born in grothmar who, with his partner in crime, killed his own warband to gain power and fame within the flame legion. Issue is he kept having girls and wanted to continue his bloodline and prove he was able to be part of what he tried so hard to be. The mother of this child would be banished, working as a cleaner and a secret midwife when she could. She would eventually lose her arms for helping mothers hide and send away themselves and their children. Meanwhile uriahs father, still with no luck, would appoint Uriah to train under a builder in the flame citadel. He was taught how to weld and make flame effigies but Uriah and his peers, born into gaherons ruling and harsher attacks from the other legions started to whisper of rebellion. They wanted equality like the rest of the legions…and when the legions and humans cease fired they wanted to join back up- repent for their past travesties and unite again so they could stop being killed just for who they were born under.

Helping head the rebellion, uriah and his friends did just that days after gaheron was killed but not enough people backed them up and their rebellion was squashed…uriah being the only one left alive due to his father, though badly scarred and having three of his horns broken, as a reminder of his place. His mother would beg him to leave because if the flame legion didnt lynch him for what he did, the rest of the charr will kill them till every last one of them was dead anyway

Uriah, with his mothers help, would run away and join the pact. He was shy, feeling out of place with his dialect and only knowing how to speak tyrian but not write it he would quietly find his place as a welder due to the fact he was unafraid of heights and was quite good at his job. On his days off he would make his mother replacement arms- ones that would work better for her that he would send away with letters whenever his Fathers best friend came by the check on him. he even practiced his effigy making- trying to make them into suits similar to the asuran golems. For his father.. he had a sniper rifle being made, testing out bullets to make sure that once shot you lose your ability to use magic, even just temporarily.

Now in guild wars 2 he is in a poly relationship with the pact commander and his sylvari partner. He still welds and helps build things on the side and upon the news of his fathers best friends death he knew it was time to end his fathers life, knowing that he was one of the few shaman trying to keep the rank and order of gaherons ways. He would even be approached by crecias intelligence subordinates, his name being known for trying to do what she would succeed in the future. He would even help out in the end happy to see that some shamans had come to their senses and wished to see their daughters be treated equally too and to not be killed. Now, feeling betrayed thinking Bangar was talking about One Charr to help unite the legions again with the flame legions but instead using it to make more renegades he feels personally ashamed and angry, joining the his commander boyfriend in his fight for once.

(this is also all on my character page if you are on desktop!)

#Guild wars 2 charr #guild wars 2 screenshots #gw2 #guild wars 2 fanart #my characters #guild wars 2 oc #guild wars 2 rp #gw2rp #gw2 rp

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mvrcutios · 4 years

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— INTRODUCING:

➺ Alexandre Preston as M𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔬

Hi everyone! I’m Olivia, 24 from the pst timezone !! I love romantic foreign films and every incarnation of Skam ever created. Also, tik tok. Way way too much tik tok. This is my interpretation of Mercutio (loml tbh), Alexandre! A pretty boy with charm and brains and you bet your ass he knows it. Portrayed by the beaut that is Maxence Fauvel, i’m genuinely filled to the brim with muse for this boy so, without further ado, time for the main event! (as he prefers to be lbr )

name: alexandre henri preston

age: 21

birthday: July 28th, 1998

gender: male

pronouns: he/him

degree: double major of business & music composition (father currently aware of the 1st)

zodiac: leo.

languages: fluent in french & italian, attempting to swear in russian and japanese.

hobbies: piano, cello, running, sex, parties, reading

vices: whiskey, gin, socialites, card games, fast cars, midnight symphonies, menthol cigarettes

pinterest is here !!

the aesthetic: Dom Pérignon, lipstick stained shirt collars, blue eyes with darkened circles, menthol cigarettes, 2am melodies on a piano down the hall, bruised knuckles, hotel balconies, strobe lights and heavy bass, macarons flaked in gold, lips pressed to cheeks, 3am club invitations, lingering eyes, too bright smiles, bitten bruises soothed with a tongue,shattered mirrors, ripped fingernails, screaming into the silent night, laughter whispered into skin, pills pressed to tongues, platinum amex cards, chewed on pens, eyes growing distant, texts left on read, ink over his heart for his maman, naps under campus oak trees, flasks sipped in a lecture hall, hands on hips, backs, and his own throat.

➺ but what is in a name?

➺ { Alexandre } : The french translation of Alexander. Defender of Man. The irony of a name is not lost on him, nor the man who’d held it. He was named for his maternal grandfather, a man who had sold his soul (and his eldest daughter) for money, power, name, all under the guise of the importance of family. A name meaning man of honor. Certainly a strong name for a boy who’d been born to rule a soiled throne, but content to find ways to sneak sweets from the kitchen, trick a smile from his mother as she stared out the window yet again. But defenders are not born, no.They are made, and from the moment blue eyes opened for the first time he was destined to be just that. Made. Into his father’s visions, his mother’s dreams. And Xandre is no fool. All he wants — no, rather. All he desires from life is simple. Everything.

➺ { Henri } Ruler of households. Once again nothing but irony for a boy who grew up wanting for nothing in life, but knowing the expectations were to be just that. A leader. Who would be the one to tell him that the throne he was set to rest upon was built on the blood and bones of the lesser fortunate? More importantly, who would teach him to care?

➺ { Preston } Meaning priest, settlement, enclosures of God. Carried to England from Normandy after the great conquest. A name befitting to the family who in some circles considered themselves holier than most. Gods among men. Who turned whiskey to gold, words to bank notes, and blood into power. If you were a Preston, people knew it. And what could be better than that?

➺ for he is the devil in every detail

➺ ( + ) He was a boy of pressed shirts and dark windswept waves. Blue eyes that sparkled of mischief and peels of laughter that echoed down marbled halls. He was Alexandre Preston, a boy with the stars in his eyes and the world at his feet. Who when he smiled, his entire face lit from within and led to that hint of the devil sparkling just so from that gaze of his. Who smelled of citrus and whiskey and a bite of mint. Who adored beauty, in life and what it had to offer him. A man who’d grown into his looks and was taught by a wise mother just how to use them, a well placed kiss to a cheek or brush of skin, eyes meeting across a room enough to give them what they desired and more than ever, what he craved. He was tall, dark and oh so handsome, and knew how to get just what he wanted. Born with his father’s intellect and drive for more, padded by his mother’s beauty and ability to wield it for the weapon it could be. It made him anything but a bore, a useless first son too afraid to grasp what was before him. No, Xandre knew his fate. But in the meantime, he lived his life how he chose. If dearest dad was none the wiser, well. What’s the harm?

➺ ( + ) But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we? Born on a warm evening in late july, Alexandre Henri was destined to be the only child of Simon Preston and Violette Dupont. A product of two passionate individuals and a loveless marriage, Xandre’s mother was the eldest daughter to a man of debt. The Dupont family had in name what they lacked in capital and with a marriage between Violette and Simon, had everything to gain. Xandre’s birth was a bright burst of fleeting color for a mother who felt caged into the world she’d sold herself to, doting on the little boy and doing what she could to leave him with a part of her, a piece of her own waning soul. Where Simon was boastful, she was wicked, demure. Where he was aggression, she was soft sighs and whispered curses. Two sides of what lead to be a machiavellian son. Destined to rule with a gilded fist and fleeting, passionate heart.

➺ ( + ) He was put into lessons as a boy to dwindle that energy that thrummed with his every step, sports and arts and languages but they were fleeting moments of time, hobbies cast aside once the obsessive grip of his mind released them. But his mother’s love of piano rang true to his blood, picking up the instrument even with some difficulty. It bothered him so, to have something he couldn’t master with minimal effort. It required a honed drive, a passion and ethic to create something magnificent through nothing more than hard work. It fueled him, the boy almost manic with the late hours he spent alone in the sun room, fingers dancing along keys and cursing with every missed note. As he grew, so did the realization that it was not something you could master. The great composers themselves went mad with trying. It was a never ending race, and one he still holds steadfast this very day. It is as much a part of him as anything could be. Alexandre is meant to be a leader, Alexandre blows thousands on parties and card games, Alexandre needs music like air to rattling lungs. His current double major at Ashcroft is a direct result. If he’s to live out this new version of day to day, he’ll do as he pleases. As long as his father remains where he belongs, ignorant as the rest are.

➺ ( + ) if music was a stronghold, most everything else in his world was a passing fancy, aimless ways to spend time and money and have fun in this life he was so destined to lead. High school meant parties and fun, learning the intricacies of the body and passion as girls and boys alike came and went from white rumbled sheets. For his mother had taught him to wield beauty for what it was; a weapon. And oh, did he learn with the best. A university career begun at Oxford (if only to spite his father), where the real fun began, nights spent in club after club until the sun rose again, liquor fueled nights of passion and fun, barred from certain clubs and embraced at others, heavyweight card games and street races with a bottle of dom in hand. Started a gambling ring in his dorm hall until the RA caught wind a year later. (But he eventually joined, so no harm no foul) He was at an all time high, never fearing the inevitable crash to follow. He welcomed it like an old friend, navigated the highs and lows with a long learned finesse. Now in Edinburgh, he chases the residual high with his normal vigor, finding drinking buddies to waste an evening with, occasional bodies to slip into his too high thread count sheets.

➺ ( + ) The very definition of love ‘em and leave ‘em. Xandre doesn’t do true relationships, has never truly given his heart to someone in any form. He doesn’t believe in it, the type of love that makes people do such foolish things. He does foolish things just fine on his own, heart be damned. He can be passionate, charming, attentive lover at the best of times, possessive fool at the worst of times. He loves to feel desired, wanted, needed even. But never aims to be someone’s entire world. That type of need, that type of love does nothing but wound. And every wound he will ever have will be of his own creation. Has had more than a few flings, even reoccurring instances of women or men a few times in a row. But the connections are shallow, surface deep. You don’t need to witness his soul to get into his bed, afterall.

➺ ( + ) It was all a beautiful distraction from the blood that stained every letter of his name. His cousin was allowed to live in blessed ignorance of the family means, but Xandre, he was thrown headfirst into the lion’s den and came out grinning, the truth of it never leaving past blood stained lips. He isn’t resentful of that fact. A part of him feels it was always meant to be this way. If his cousins were the sun, he was the endless night, the whispers of shadows and secrets meant to withstand. For he could take it, surely. Right?

➺ ( + ) while his fate may be anything but up for debate, he is anything but a too willing participant. Being at Oxford meant enough distance to gain a bit of the freedom he craved. The night his father was arrested, Alexandre was doing what was normal, even on a tuesday evening. Partying at a local hotspot four bottles deep in champagne and whiskey, pills pressed to lips in between fevered kisses of a woman who’s name escaped him the next morning. Sweetened black coffee in hand as he watched his phone buzz over and over, the news blaring the headline of what he’d always known would come to fruition. But his father was still kicking, and so the heavy head who bears the crown was not yet his own. So he went about his day, his week, his months. Until, octavia.

➺ ( + ) his cousins were the siblings he’d never had, and for a man who doesn’t truly believe in intricacies of love he loves them with all he has in him. Wolfie the brother he’d craved, the two stirring trouble with every laugh as they raced down the cavernous halls of their homes. Days spent listening to his whispered dreams, his own a hollow echo in response to the passion that thrummed from his cousin’s. The lectures of his poor influence never bothered him, his role had always been rather set after all. The shadow to the sun. Was he ever to be a leader? Possibly. But he was never born of the responsibility and dreams that lingered over his cousin, never expected to amount to anything rather spectacular beyond the built business reputation and blood that soaked the name Preston. He was too impulsive, too passionate to have it beaten from his bones, just always a little too much.

➺ ( + ) And Octavia – she held a special place in his heart. Daddy’s little girl, it was easy to see how she could bat her lashes and smile her smile and let the world fall at her feet. He admired it, respected it even. Game always has to appreciate the game. She and her brother leaving for Ashcroft was a blow he hadn’t anticipated, for they’d always had one another, the two musketeers and the girl who fought to be anything but a shadow. It was an unfamiliar ache, missing them. And with Octavia now gone, that ache has grown tenfold. Morphed into anger for what he knew she was up to, for somehow somewhere, she’d pissed off the wrong people to where even the Preston name couldn’t quite save her soul. But her essence is everywhere, haunting the halls and whispering in ears. It’s all so very dramatic, so very her. He’d pour one out for her if he didn’t think she’d simper about his distaste for wasted wine. Her spirit was a mild comfort, a balm over a roughened wound. a bigger amusement than anything, a middle finger to those who’d ended her bright existence. A Preston knew how to fuck you over, that was made all the more clear with each report of her sightings. And god, did he love her for it.

➺ ( + ) and that at the very crux of it all, is what has brought him to ashcroft. A new scene for parties, new faces, and a remaining cousin who could use a shoulder to lean on. & those all look lovely on paper, but the fine print? Always read it carefully. For the smiles and charm are all Violette without a doubt. But the danger that lingers, the passion and fire that fuel his soul and border on the precipice of mania? Alexandre is Simon Preston’s son, that was never to be denied for long. And someone has wronged them all, taken things they had no right to take. Someone he considered to be a part of his heart. He doesn’t take kindly to such things, and so to Ashcroft he’s come. He is passion, recklessness, a hidden grief fueled by fleeting love wrapped in a shiny veneered package. He’s here to revel, to discover, to maybe even punish. If deemed necessary. Blood will always be blood, and for a man who’s always willing to go a little too far? It is all that remains.

➺ ( + ) as for what has qualified him for such a prestigious society upon his enrollment well, that is a mystery to some and a hard headline to others. His family’s connections? His relation to Wolfie? His letters of transfer from his classical composition professors back in London? As far as Xandre is concerned, it’s nothing more than a certain Oberon Ashcroft seeing he has a role to play, and one he plays rather well. Unassuming at first, a disarming charm soothing the blunt edges of his words. He says what he feels, and what he knows must be said. And due to that, he knows his worth, what he brings to the table. Knows how poorly it would look if he hadn’t been inducted. He brings a good time, a laugh, a chance to rebel against the societal norms and oppressions that leak from every pore of Ashcroft. But he also brings a weighted name, a wicked ability to decipher through the purple prose people can preach, to the truth at the core of it all. And he plays a mean Chopin, what can he say?

➺ ( + ) there is no way to wrap up all that he is, to summarize a man who is nothing short of a dichotomy, a symphony in fractured parts. Perhaps a jekyll and hyde of his own making, two heads of the same beast he wielded within his soul. for there was something to be said of being seen, eyes drawn to your every move, to feel the power of being adored, desired, craved. He is the devil on your shoulder, crooning saccharine words and screaming in triumph in a breadth. A gleam of mania tinging those baby blues when he pushes just so to get his way. He is that very symphony, a concerto who’s pace continues to drive faster and faster, upward and onward until its very PEAK, a cacophony of beauty and agony as notes ring out, clash, COLLIDE. and then, the briefest moment of silence. He has discovered the distractions his body can wield, but also the power to be found in stillness, in silence. At his lowest he craves it, aches to be surrounded by masses just once more to drown out the roaring in his mind, to draw it to ecstasy, to blissful silence. All leading up to the final, ringing note. Before the applause, of course. never deny yourself the applause. That had always been Lesson One.

➺ A LETTER TO OCTAVIA:

Tavia —

Where do I start? You always knew how to make an entrance, tav. should’ve figured your exit would be the same. But…why the fuck wouldn’t you call me? Why wouldn’t you tell me the extent of just how bad shit had gotten so quickly? You knew no matter what I said, or how I complained or warned you off to be careful I would’ve been there in a heartbeat. You didn’t have to do this alone. I should’ve seen that and come the first time you called. Don’t haunt me for that. And that police chief mentioned a baby, Tav. You never– me of all people would have understood. You were the only one I ever told about Clara, how my dad paid her off. You never judged me for him, you understood. Let me get wasted and cry it out in that shitty suite in London. We could have made a club of it, you and me. Poor little Rich kids with secret kids. Poetic, no? Poetic justice is bullshit in hindsight. And I just really, really miss you.

I’m sure everyone in these letters are telling you the reasons they adored you, how they’ll never forget you, the wild memories they’re sharing with you, that they say they’ll never forget. I don’t need to say all those things. You know I do, and you know I won’t forget. You’re a part of my heart, as battered and shriveled as we liked to joke it is. But apparently death makes us sentimental fools, so here’s this for you, because it’s 4am and the memory won’t leave my mind no matter how many times I close my eyes. That summer we spent, all of us, vacationing in that house on the riviera. Remember? I spent the day running around the grounds with Wolf and we’d laugh and tease like elder brothers do when you’d seek us out, pouting those lips and crocodile tears until we included you in our games. But when the sun set and dinner was long gone, you’d drag me into the tea room with that baby grand in the corner and demanded I play. You always were a determined thing, you brat. But you’d smile that smile and even I couldn’t fight the urge to sit and play your favorites.You sang along and danced and danced and danced until you were breathless with it. Only you could make dancing to britney fuckin’ spears look like an artform you know? You’d call me your co-star, and never let me hate myself for the mistakes, never laughed if I stumbled on a note. You were my biggest supporter that summer, but I was only one of your many adoring fans. That’s how it was supposed to be. That won’t change, I promise.

( A few tears stain the edges of that previous paragraph, angry, bitter droplets that he wipes away and slips the paper further to defend the onslaught of them. He sighs deeply, clears his throat. )

And look at you now, huh? Haunting your friends and your brother with the best of ‘em. Leave it to you to find a way to remain the star of the show even in death. I can see how it’s unravelling them. The ones who look too pale to be innocent, everyone here has a fucking secret. Thanks to you maybe we’ll see them all sooner than later. And what fun that’s gonna be. But do me a favor and haunt some hot freshman for me, will you? Whisper sweet nothings of my beauty in their ears, make it a good one. I’ll owe you one. You know I’m good for it.

I’ll watch over Wolfie. Of course I will. I’ll get him piss drunk at that club you mentioned last time we talked, bring a few lines and a bottle of dom all just for you, gorgeous. I’m here now for him, for you. I’m here for what I should have done from the beginning. If you had to leave him —had to leave us, it won’t be for nothing.

I miss you, cherie. Visit me tonight in my dreams, alright? You can dance for me, I’ll play you a song.

We’ll make it a happy one, for old times sake.

-Xandre

#spectreintro #𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔵𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔦 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫 ╱ 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 .#if you read this whole thing ur a god and i am sorry

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illegiblewords · 5 years

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FOR CONFUSED BYSTANDERS

I know that I have a lot of followers who have been (very patiently) witnessing a stream of pictures, commentary, and general posts related to Final Fantasy XIV. This is going to be my attempt to present the game and its story with context for you guys who have no idea what’s going on.

I’m doing this for two reasons, the first being I LOVE THIS GAME. If I can share the positive experience I’ve had with other people, I’d like to do that. The second reason is, for people who still follow but aren’t necessarily going to play themselves--it might offer enough background info to make posts that go up more entertaining at least. I know I don’t personally mind seeing bloggers, writers, artists, etc. share something I’m unfamiliar with, but it gets more fun when I have some clue what it’s about.

Parts of this post will be just about my own subjective experience, some will be recapping the story, some will be going over different ways I’ve seen people play in case that appeals. So on and so forth. I’m aiming to offer an honest reflection on whatever seems important.

Putting this under a cut because really, this is fucking long. Not as long as it looks because pictures are included but even still. For anyone who reads, I hope you enjoy and if you have questions don’t hesitate to hit me up! :)

BACKGROUND - NON-MMO PLAYER LOVES THIS MMO

I have never played an MMO before this. I’m pretty apathetic about them for the most part. When I play games I like to design things, get good pictures, and kill baddies for stress relief. I'm here to immerse in an exciting world and story, meet characters I can invest in. Stuff in that vein. So far as gaming goes I’m pretty simple.

There are people who put heavy emphasis on the social elements of FFXIV. They’ll play with their friends specifically, either because they’re focused on fighting together or because they want to roleplay or just to hang out. I’m not really in that category.

I entered knowing no one, and while I’ve made some friends through FFXIV I mostly interact with them outside the game itself. This can happen on tumblr, on forums, on the official blog platform, etc. In-game, I encounter other players all the time but it is generally something like “I was running around the city doing stuff and other people were also running around the city doing stuff”. You can approach people. You can message them and do little emotes like waving or hugging or slapping or whatever. You can do these emotes directed at nobody and just see your character go through the animations, which can be fun for taking pictures.

More detailed encounters with other players happen in dungeons, trials, and raids. These are called registered duties. Guildhests and PVP (player versus player) exist too, but I haven’t done them. I’ll elaborate later, but the gist you need to know here is that you are grouped in with a fixed number of additional players and then placed in a setting with a pre-set encounter or encounters to overcome. Some of these are straightforward, some require strategy.

In FFXIV, people usually chat to varying degrees during duties. Most are polite, pleasant, and focused on gameplay. At least where I am, which I’ll also go into later. Occasionally there are people who are jerks in the sense that they are inconsiderate or rude to other players. Also occasionally, people are incompetent. More often though I’ll encounter someone with a great sense of humor or people who have helpful tips to improve.

This is a game where, if you see a player marked as new struggling with low level monsters, a more experienced player might pause to oneshot that monster so the newbie can escape. People are casually nice most of the time.

Since I’d normally be doing single-player anyway, for me this is very refreshing. I get to do all the things I’d be doing in a single-player video game, but I also get light exchanges with other fans in ways that aren’t disruptive. There’s enough meat to the Main Quest Scenario (MSQ) and side quests that I don’t feel bored or lonely at all.

FFXIV does cost money to play and has a subscription. This can be paid in varying increments. I personally think it’s worth it because 1) the developers are adding new content on a pretty regular basis 2) the developers actually care about quality and having happy fans 3) the game keeps getting better over time 4) there is SO MUCH you can do in the game. It is truly expansive beyond anything else I’ve seen. I might not be ready to do a subscription with every game, but for this one absolutely.

This essentially plays like a normal final fantasy game in most respects. You might run around solo by-and-large, but there is an NPC supporting cast. They and the villains get fleshed out very well. Same goes for civilians and other background characters. The biggest difference off the top of my head is the story’s beginning...

OBSTACLES

I’m going to get this out of the way early, but in essence I think there are two main obstacles as a beginner. The first and most notable of these is that the game’s entry point, called “A Realm Reborn”, is less well-written and EXTREMELY LONG.

Seriously. I’ve only gotten one character past this point and it took me a stupid amount of time. Some of the quests at this stage are things like “my dad doesn’t like the stinky chocobo please spray it with perfume so it is less stinky”. Or “jump through all these stupid hoops so you can fight the exciting boss you’ve been waiting for”.

However, the length at least is slotted to be fixed in the future. I’ll probably announce that when it happens in case that’s the deal changer for anyone.

On writing quality, it starts off mediocre. However, later writing is so strong that it actually manages to make past scenes WAY more interesting. The initial setup also kind of lures you into a false sense of security, at which point shit gets real very fast.

The second obstacle for beginners involves a degree of not knowing what you don’t know. For example, there is an extremely powerful attack that can be used in registered duties called “Limit Break”. Initially I didn’t even know where to find it to put in my move hotbar. Then I didn’t know that using it would take limit break away from other players in the group. Then I didn’t know that the limit breaks of different jobs needed to be used under different circumstances. An example of this would be that spellcaster SHOULD use a limit break attack on freakishly large groups of enemies, but SHOULD NOT use limit break on a lone boss unless there is literally no other damage class (DPS) available to do it. This is because the overall impact of caster limit break is comparatively low, but effects more enemies at the same time. Using limit break inappropriately can frustrate people.

There are other things similar to this, such as when you use Duty Finder (a roulette that sets you up with completely random people interested in the same registered duty) and when you use Party Finder (where you announce what registered duty you want to do with what circumstances, then people volunteer to join), or being aware of which moves are supposed to be used in which order for top efficiency. That said, if you tell people you’re completely new they’ll usually be willing to explain.

If it’s something like “how do I use the glamour plates to switch into designs I made easily” or “how does crafting even work”, youtube is very helpful too! Overall just take initiative and communicate to people your experience level while in groups and things tend to work out.

THE STORY

Disclaimer: Recaps get less detailed over time to avoid spoiling too hard.

SHORT VERSION

You are a god-slayer, or more precisely the slayer of false-gods. False-gods drain the land to make it lifeless and are prone to brainwashing people. You also regularly fight the rough equivalent of angels who believe the world as you know it has gone horribly wrong and are trying to force things back into their natural forms. Excessive death ensues anytime they are successful, so high stakes. Meanwhile, an authoritarian and technologically advanced nation is causing issues on the regular and has to be stopped.

PRELUDE/LEGACY

Final Fantasy XIV had a rocky start with patch section 1.0/the true beginning, which I did not play. While there are videos online of what it was like for those curious, the gist is that five years before the current opening the world was stricken by a terrible calamity. The nation of Eorzea (an allied collection of city states) was at war with the Garlean Empire--otherwise known as Garlemald. During this war, one of Garlemald’s scientists implemented a genocidal strategy against the Eorzeans by dragging the lesser of two moons down upon their heads. This moon was called Dalamud. However, what took this situation from bad to worse was that Dalamud wasn’t actually a moon but a prison.

Thousands of years prior, the technologically advanced nation of Allag had been performing experiments using dragons and entities known as primals. Primals are summoned into being using a combination of aether (life energy, the source of magic), ritual, and the belief of their summoners. One of Allag’s experiments involved murdering a powerful dragon then using the tortured prayers of his lover and his kin to summon a warped, primal imitation of him. This primal was then trapped as a power source and left to fester in rage and insanity.

The dragon’s primal is Bahamut. Dalamud was his cage.

When Dalamud burst open above Eorzea, Bahamut was released in all his apocalyptic glory. A collection of heroes, allied to an organization called the Scions of the Seventh Dawn (dedicated to eliminating primals for the toll they take on the land and its people) stood against Bahamut. A man named Louisoix Levellieur, leader of the Scions, cast a powerful spell by summoning the Twelve Eorzean gods to stop Bahamut. This spell cast the primal, Louisoix, and the heroes five years into the future. It also wiped the heroes, known thereafter as the Warriors of Light, from memory.

Part of what makes 1.0 really cool looking back--when the developers saw how many problems existed in the MMO, they knew they would need to reboot it. There was a date set for that to happen, which would involve taking Final Fantasy XIV offline until an improved version could be released. Players knew the real world reasons behind all this. What they didn’t know was how the hiatus and reboot would be presented within the narrative.

People who were up-to-date in the storyline knew that war had erupted and that the moon was falling. They also knew that a particular time, the game would be taken offline.

This is what they saw.

A REALM REBORN

The average player, and likely anyone reading this, will not have played patch 1.0. For us, Final Fantasy XIV begins five years after Bahamut’s calamity. The world is still recovering and has been irrevocably scarred in the dragon’s wake. Refugees from both that event and Garlemald’s conquered territories pour in even as the empire bides its time for another invasion.

The player is a fledgling adventurer endowed with a gift called The Echo. The Echo is an ability that first, prevents them from being brainwashed (or “Tempered”) by primals. This is important because like I said before, one of the things that gives primals their power is belief. This extends to prayer. If a person is tempered, they will worship and empower the primal responsible until they die. This means most people can’t even approach primals safely, much less fight them. More than one character (including NPCs) possess The Echo, but it remains a rare ability.

Another aspect of this gift is that it allows someone (without any deliberate control) to see into the memories of others, superimposing emotions and perspectives of the event over the witnessing Echo-user. It also translates all direct speech into an understandable form to the Echo-user. There are additional abilities that become unveiled over the course of the story, but these are most important and consistent going in.

The player initially is just one of many such adventurers, a guild of independent mercenaries willing to undertake odd jobs using their skill in combat. After coming into conflict with a mysterious, masked organization, however, it becomes clear that the player has been chosen as champion to Hydaelyn herself.

Because you see, Hydaelyn isn’t just the name of the planet. This is also a sentient mothercrystal claiming the role of protector to all life on Her surface.

The masked organization consists of spirits with varying degrees of immortality. They also have the ability to body snatch. These are called Ascians. Ascians argue that the world was split into fourteen pieces thousands of years ago by Hydaelyn, and that their dark crystal god--Zodiark--is the true will of the star and represents a natural state of being that must be reclaimed. Their way of pursuing this objective requires causing a series of apocalypses or near-apocalypses, always coming with innumerable casualties.

As Hydaelyn’s champion the player joins the Scions of the Seventh Dawn in combating primals, fights against lingering threats from Garlemald, and thwarts Ascian plans to continue rejoining the world through calamities.

A trailer for this arc can be viewed here.

HEAVENSWARD

Shit goes pear shaped in a big way and you have to flee territories held by the Eorzean Alliance--city states including Ul’dah, Limsa Lominsa, and Gridania. Ishgard, now a frozen, mountainous landscape ruled by a religion dedicated to the goddess Halone, takes your character in.

Ishgard has been at war with the draconic nation of Dravania for thousands of years. Dragons are immortal by natural means, but can be slain. Ishgard no longer remembers, by and large, why the war even started except that they have been losing loved ones in horrifying ways for as long as they can remember. They refused to send aid during the struggle against Garlemald specifically because they couldn’t spare forces from their war with Dravania. They have a reputation for being hostile to outsiders, having extreme class divides, and inquisition-style zealotry. Nonetheless, there are good people here and over the course of A Realm Reborn the player manages to befriend some of them.

This arc delves into Ishgard’s war, and involves the player taking part while clearing their name in the Alliance. Toward the end, it is also extremely important to note that the player encounters a group calling themselves “Warriors of Darkness”, who are in-league with the Ascians. It comes to light that they hail from one of the divided worlds, that their world is in terrible danger, and they believe the path to survival comes from confronting you.

A trailer for this arc can be viewed here.

STORMBLOOD

One of the antagonists we encounter forces the Alliance to involve itself in freeing Garlemald’s conquered territories, namely the nations of Ala Mhigo (largely Middle Eastern) and Doma (East Asian). In undertaking this task, the hero comes into repeated conflict with Garlemald’s crown prince, Zenos yae Galvus. Zenos is basically a serial killer with the resources of a prince but no actual investment in being a prince. It’s pretty wild.

A lot of this plot focuses on the consequences of Garlean rule. Over time though, it comes to light that the founder of Garlemald was a high-ranked Ascian and is still very much alive.

A trailer for this arc can be viewed here.

SHADOWBRINGERS

The plot set into motion with the Warriors of Darkness resumes as the player is forced to travel to their home world. Dealing with a setting on the brink of Armageddon, this current arc has a ton to do with examining different perspectives while getting much clearer insight on lore metaphysics. Most notably, we finally learn why the Ascians act the way they do and discover more about the nature of the player character and Hydaelyn.

I’m aware this is vague, but honestly this is my favorite of all the expansions/arcs so far. Seriously it is fucking killer.

A trailer for this arc can be viewed here.

YOUR PROTAGONIST/THE CHARACTER CREATOR

The main character of Final Fantasy XIV is known as the Warrior of Light, regardless of whether you play from the Legacy version of the game or A Realm Reborn. Similar to the Dragon Age games, in Final Fantasy XIV you get to design your own main character and shape their identity to varying degrees through the story. Some people like to imagine their protagonist as existing within a completely different role in the world of Hydaelyn for roleplay purposes (so not a Warrior of Light), but that involves essentially disregarding the main quest scenario narrative provided. It’s fine to do that of course, but I’m going to be explaining things that essentially fit within the canon approach.

There are currently eight playable races for the Warrior of Light. These include hyur (human stand-ins), elezen (elf stand-ins), roegadyns (orc or giant stand-ins), miqo’te (cat people), lalafells (dwarf or gnome stand-ins), au ra (tiefling or draeni stand-ins), viera (female-only bunny people at the moment), and hrothgar (male-only lion people, the beast race).

Each race option has two subraces attached. The most dramatic differences between subraces come up for hyur, where there are Midlanders (shorter and slighter frames) and Highlanders (taller and beefier/curvier). Otherwise it’s more minor differences.

It is common for players to develop their own personal interpretations of who their Warrior of Light character was before the story begins and how that impacts progression. This can be shaped by what race they belong to and what lore is attached to that race according to region. It is also possible to shape things according to which of the Twelve (Eorzea’s pantheon) the Warrior of Light worships. These deities are loosely described and made available for selection at the beginning of the game.

It isn’t unusual for people to pick names in-keeping with lore. A good site to turn to for this is over here, although there are also spots that go into what different names actually translate to. Other people just go with whatever they feel like. I think I saw someone named Cheese Whiz once.

Stat variation is pretty negligible between races, and it’s mainly an aesthetic/tonal choice. Currently there is some pressure on game developers to make Viera and Hrothgar playable for male and female gender options both, and it seems likely that at some point this will happen. Currently there are indications that the release for Viera and Hrothgar was somewhat rushed due to some behind-the-scenes circumstances, so while they are less versatile than other options this is likely to change at some point.

As someone who is a sucker for character customization, I want to mention that while it might be easier to get some of the fantasy races to fit a particular ethnicity--Final Fantasy actually does a great job in terms of visual versatility and has made it possible to hit a wide range of options well. For example, it might be easier to make an East Asian au ra or a French elezen, but you can easily break with that in totally believable ways. You might not have the precision adjustments of Dragon Age: Inquisition or Bloodborne, but the options presented are pretty flexible.

In terms of how the Warrior of Light works through the game, again while there is some wiggle room there are certain aspects to their identity that stay pretty consistent. They get jaded and worn out by the narrative as time goes on, they experience loss, they become increasingly chatty and sarcastic. They have powerful neck muscles from years of communication by nodding. Commonly, the personality of the Warrior of Light is also influenced by the job they choose.

THE JOBS

Something I wish got explained to me early--you only get certain jobs as options starting out, and any others you hear about getting added are only accessible at higher levels. In Final Fantasy XIV, basically when it comes to combat you start with a very basic class, which graduates to a job (better versions of the class) when you fulfill certain requirements.

There are notably three main roles a combat class or job can fall into. These include tanks, healers, and DPS. Tanks are responsible for leading the charge, provoking aggression, directing mobs, and enduring attacks in groups. They don’t deal the most damage but have the highest defense and are generally right in the thick of the action. Healers can deal damage but their main purpose is to keep themselves and everyone around them from dying, especially in groups. At the moment all of the healer jobs use magic. DPS (Damage Per Second) are the jobs that are mainly responsible for taking chunks out of the enemy’s health. Within DPS there are additionally three subcategories, these being Melee DPS (non-magical and close-range), Physical Ranged DPS (non-magical and fighting from a distance), and Magic Ranged DPS (magical and fighting from a distance). There is also a limited job and Crafter/Gatherer classes, but I’ll get to those later.

Some DPS jobs, additionally, focus more on playing support to other party members while others are geared toward boosting their own damage output.

The classes you can choose from in the character creator include:

Gladiator (Tank, Sword and Shield)

Marauder (Tank, Axe)

Lancer (Melee DPS, Lance)

Pugilist (Melee DPS, Fists)

Archer (Physical Ranged DPS, Bow)

Conjurer (Healer, Wand)

Thaumaturge (Magical Ranged DPS, Staff)

Arcanist (Magical Ranged DPS, Tome)

At level 10, if your armory system is unlocked (you need to complete a quest for your starting class NPC mentor to do this) you can approach an NPC in Limsa Lominsa to unlock the Rogue class as well. This is a Melee DPS class and uses twin daggers. If your character starts with Marauder or Arcanist this takes less time.

To graduate each of these early classes into a job, the following requirements need to be met:

Paladin (Sword and Shield): Requires Gladiator level 30, Conjurer level 15.

Warrior (Axe): Requires Marauder level 30, Gladiator level 15.

Dragoon (Lance): Requires Lancer level 30, Marauder level 15.

Monk (Fists): Requires Pugilist level 30, Lancer level 15.

Bard (Bow): Requires Archer level 30, Pugilist level 15.

White Mage (Wand): Requires Conjurer level 30, Arcanist level 15.

Scholar (Tome): Requires Arcanist level 30, Conjurer level 15.

Black Mage (Staff): Requires Thaumaturge level 30, Archer level 15.

Summoner (Tome): Requires Arcanist level 30, Thaumaturge level 15.

Ninja (Daggers): Requires Rogue level 30 and completion of quests Sylph-Management and Cloying Victory.

I’ll describe these in more detail in a bit, but there are waaaay more combat jobs than this. Currently the others are:

Dark Knight (Tank, Greatsword): Requires having purchased the Heavensward expansion and having completed all of the Seventh Astral Era Quests up to Before the Dawn, which is needed to unlock the city of Ishgard. This job starts at level 30.

Gunbreaker (Tank, Gunblade): Requires having purchased the Shadowbringers expansion and having a Disciple of War or Magic job at level 60. This job starts at level 60.

Astrologian (Healer, Star Globe): Requires having purchased the Heavensward expansion and having completed all of the Seventh Astral Era Quests up to Before the Dawn, which is needed to unlock the city of Ishgard. This job starts at level 30.

Samurai (Melee DPS, Katana): Requires having purchased the Stormblood expansion and having a Disciple of War or Magic job at level 50. This job starts at level 50.

Machinist (Physical Ranged DPS, Firearm) Requires having purchased the Heavensward expansion and having completed all of the Seventh Astral Era Quests up to Before the Dawn, which is needed to unlock the city of Ishgard. This job starts at level 30.

Dancer (Physical Ranged DPS, Chakrams): Requires having purchased the Shadowbringers expansion and having a Disciple of War or Magic job at level 60. This job starts at level 60.

Red Mage (Magical Ranged DPS, Rapier): Requires having purchased the Stormblood expansion and having a Disciple of War or Magic job at level 50. This job starts at level 50.

So total, right now the jobs include 4 Tanks (Paladin, Warrior, Dark Knight, Gunbreaker), 3 Healers (White Mage, Scholar, Astrologian), 4 Melee DPS (Dragoon, Monk, Ninja, Samurai), 3 Physical Ranged DPS (Bard, Machinist, Dancer), and 3 Magical Ranged DPS (Black Mage, Summoner, Red Mage). Total is 17 jobs. When I describe these combat based jobs, I’m not going to focus on the actual gameplay aspect because frankly I don’t know how to play all of the jobs. This is gonna be a quick and dirty explanation based on the scientific approach of “idk that’s just my impression”.

Paladin: You are a holy knight and you can heal a little sometimes maybe (???) and you are very good and noble with great defense.

Warrior: You are a beserker who loves to release your inner beast and kill shit in really violent ways and are kind of a badass and do the most damage of the tanks.

Dark Knight: Super super edgy and kind of magical but also straight up crazy, you hate corrupt authority figures and are willing to get your hands dirty and darken your name in order to protect others. One of the most beloved job questlines.

Gunbreaker: You have a sword that is also a gun and you can shoot people with it, soldier style. Basically if you have ever fantasized about having a knifegun this is like that but better.

White Mage: Very pure, focused on nature and communing with elemental beings, all about that land/sea/sky thing with ties to the elements earth, water, and air. One of three magic traditions that got involved in a next level magic fight, this one stemming from the city of Amdapor. Amdapor is full of fungus and poison spores now.

Scholar: Takes a highly intellectual spin on magic with ties to weird geometries and so forth, figured out how to summon fairy familiars from aether. Does a lot with shields and preventing people from taking as much damage in the first place. One of three magic traditions that got involved in a next level magic fight, this one stemming from the city of Nym. Nym is a floating city and is basically hovering in ruins now, with any surviving residents having been transformed into tonberries. Tonberries are little green creatures that like to stab people.

Astrologian: A fortuneteller take on magic that combines tarot cards, astrology, and crystal balls. The idea here is that Astrologians are messing with fate and time in order to heal you, sort of undoing damage. Snazzy dressers, intimidating moveset.

Dragoon: Jumpy people with spears who struggle to live down their legacy of animation lag-related deaths, my understanding is that today’s Dragoons do solid damage and are decent at survival. Their reputation, however, is that if someone is going to die in a fight it’s probably them. They are very broody and like to hang out in high places with capes billowing in the wind. They also wear spiky armor and fight dragons and have the soul of a dragon. People make jokes at their expense a lot but with affection.

Monk: You punch people to death and get gauntlets of varying levels of sharp. You also get to master chakras and go through forms associated with different animals. In a series like Final Fantasy where people carry swords bigger than they are, you’re the job that said lol who needs that and made your body the weapon.

Ninja: Very very sneaky, used to be sort of a state-sanctioned criminal. If anybody is a spy it’s you. You are very fast and can basically turn invisible and sometimes smoke bombs go off. Mudras are used and I don’t understand.

Samurai: Deal a solid amount of damage and are very flashy and cool, probably one of the highest damage outputs for Melee DPS. Very neat and fancy katanas.

Bard: Draws a connection between the strings of a harp and the strings of a bow, is able to both shoot the crap out of enemies, make enemies more vulnerable with some songs, and make allies more powerful with other songs. I think Bards are very pretty and fancy.

Machinist: These are tech nerds who realized that guns are an option. So are flamethrowers. So are robots. This job has a reputation for being ungodly complicated to play but this has apparently been rectified recently.

Dancer: Similar to Bard in that they do a lot to boost allies in a fight, do lower damage as a result but damn do they boost their allies. Also have ridiculously swanky outfits and are super flashy in fights.

Black Mage: The edgy magic users, they are disciples of Eorzea’s death god and all of their magic ties into destruction. If you wanna make the biggest explosions Black Mage is where you go. Magic ties to fire, ice, and electricity but primarily puts focus on the shift between fire and ice. Black Mages also have a reputation for being involved in demon summoning because they were kind of the assholes in that magic war against White Mages and Scholars. Black Magic as a discipline has ancestry in Mhach, which is of course now crawling with demons. Black Mage is the DPS king in the sense that if you want the biggest numbers of damage dealt, this is where you go. They are however tragically slow and squishy so expect the Black Mage to be somewhere between standing right where an attack will land or dodging frantically between spells.

Summoner: Has the ability to summon small familiars in the form of defeated primals, these being namely Ifrit (fire-based), Titan (earth-based), Garuda (air-based), Bahamut, and Phoenix. Apparently their questline is covered in Ascians too. One of two DPS capable of raising fallen allies.

Red Mage: Very fancy, fast-moving swordsmen covered in ruffles. The founders of Red Magic were Black and White Mages who came together in the wake of that magic war mentioned above. They essentially work to balance Black Magic and White Magic alongside physical attacks. They don’t get the numbers of some DPS but are again extremely fast and are also capable of raising allies. Versatile.

The limited job is called Blue Mage, currently being lamented because it’s unable to fight in dungeons or main quest situations to the extent of other jobs. Blue Mage gets abilities by fighting monsters and learning magical abilities from them. They use a cane and are massive dandies who will hopefully get the opportunity to do more in the future.

If you want to actually make in-game money without blood sacrifice, you want to get involved in a Crafter or Gatherer job. These don’t deal with combat but instead let you acquire, develop, and sell in-demand resources to other players.

Gatherer jobs include Fishers, Botanists, and Miners. Crafter jobs include Carpenters, Blacksmiths, Armorers, Goldsmiths, Leatherworkers, Weavers, Alchemists, and Culinarians. I am not good at these and so can’t explain them properly, but some people do play the game exclusively so they can level these jobs. I think that besides getting mad cash, this is probably because Crafters and Gatherers also get to make really fancy houses and get very pretty clothes with their vast amounts of wealth, skill, and resources.

THE SETTING

There are three city states that, at the start of A Realm Reborn, comprise the Eorzean Alliance. Your character becomes a hero to the Eorzean Alliance before any other nation. The three nations are Ul’dah, Gridania, and Limsa Lominsa. Ul’dah is a desert city (someone mentioned it being Byzantine), ruled by a Sultana, and watched over by the dual-aspected god of death and commerce. Gridania is a forest city (to me it looks Western European but unsure?), ruled by a spiritual Elder Seedseer, and is watched over by the nature goddess Nophica--her will embodied in the form of spirits called Elementals. Limsa Lominsa is an ocean city (Greek influenced, although some territories read Caribbean), ruled over by an Admiral, and is watched over by a sea-goddess.

Ul’dah is a major trade center and known for having a solid amount of crime and corruption, harsh wealth divides, huge reverence for the dead, and general canniness. Gridania is super spiritual and has massive reverence for the forest and maintaining both it and the boundaries necessary to co-exist peacefully with Elementals. Limsa Lominsa is literally pirate town and have the most kickass military/naval fleet ever.

Depending on what job you choose in the character creator will effect which of these three cities you start out in. It’s ambiguous where the Warrior of Light comes from so conceivably you could be a native to that city state or a foreigner from somewhere else. It mainly matters in terms of if you’re making a story up for your character or not.

Another city state is Ishgard (technically Eorzean but isolationist), which has parallels to Norse mythology, France, and the Catholic church. It is covered in snow and full of mountains. Ala Mhigo is also a city state, and while like Ul’dah it is also a desert environment this one seems to place higher emphasis on different regions within the Middle East and India. One part looks strongly reminiscent of the Dead Sea, for example. Idyllshire was formerly a territory of the nation Sharlayan, which dedicates itself to the scholar-god. However, Sharlayan up and bailed when Garlemald showed up so that whole city got evacuated.

Those city states are all based on the continent Aldenard. Garlemald comes from a continent called Ilsabard that we haven’t gotten to see yet. It’s supposed to be cold and shitty there. Also worth mentioning, Garleans are on the one hand atheists and on the other hand borderline worship their emperor.

Othard is the Far Eastern continent and represents Asia. The two main city states we’ve seen there are Kugane (Japan) and Doma (China). There are other nations in the surrounding areas that we know about as well but haven’t explored. Both Kugane and Doma worship entities known as kami, omnipresent spirits who appreciate treasure and sometimes play a role in manipulating the fates of mortals. There are also animal spirits who through wisdom and longevity gain power and the ability to change form. These are called auspices. Special shout out to the Azim Steppe of Othard as well for representing Mongolian tribes and a plains environment.

There at least two other continents around but we don’t know a lot about them yet. One is The New World and draws from pre-Columbian North America. The other once housed a nation called Meracydia that opposed the ancient Allagan empire.

Shadowbringers takes place on a world called The First, which is one of the fragmented realities split by Hydaelyn. This world is called Norvrandt. It parallels Hydaelyn in some ways but not others. The desert environment of Ahm Areng geographically resembles the red deserts of the Southwestern US, but the architecture doesn’t match. The Rak’tika Greatwood is an A+ perfect jungle setting and heavily modeled after Mayan civilization. Eulmore kind of reminds me of the idea of pre-French Revolution excesses surrounded by poverty but with almost neon circus aesthetics married in. Il Mheg is rainbow fields and glassy lakes and fae creatures fucking with you 24/7. Very pretty and art nouveau.

The Tempest is full of secrets.

THE COMMUNITY

People focus on different things in this game. It’s huge enough to make that extremely doable.

One group involves the combat-focused players. These are people who just want to take on content labeled Extreme or Savage and beat it as smoothly as possible. Very talented bunch but tend to be short tempered sometimes, also often can’t wrap their heads around people playing any other way.

Glamour hounds are people who are in this for the A E S T H E T I C S. They want their characters to look a very specific way with certain gear in certain colors and god damn it if they have to run savage to achieve their goals they are going to do it. Often also are very into exciting mounts and housing, will frequently do artsy screencaps and share them online.

Lore hounds are people who focus mainly on the main quest scenario, overall storytelling, NPCs, setting, metaphysics, etc. Some of these people just want to analyze and make predictions. Some are independent fan creators. Some are roleplayers.

Worth noting--the most active roleplay communities are on the Crystal server, on the worlds Balmung and Mateus. My understanding is that these worlds are pretty packed and come with their own collection of pluses and minuses. More drama and a high likelihood of being ambushed for erotic RP, but fun community storytelling too. You can absolutely join servers outside your geographic location, by the way.

I’m on Primal server. It’s pretty chill.

Crafters, gatherers, and gamblers as far as I can tell are out to get top tier gil and fabulous prizes. I think some just honestly like the process too tbh and it happens to pay swimmingly. By the by, yes there is an in-game casino.

Last major group off the top of my head is the people who are mainly, specifically there to hang with friends and otherwise socialize with the game as a medium for that.

OKAY BUT I FOLLOW YOU SPECIFICALLY, WHO THE HELL ARE THOSE CHARACTERS YOU KEEP REBLOGGING?

EMET-SELCH

He is an Ascian who showed up fashionably late, would rather be napping than villaining around. Massive troll and also responsible for single-handedly making the fandom care about Ascians after four arcs of apathy. Secret sad boi. I am omitting a bunch because he’s basically a walking spoiler, but someone once described him as having absolutely relentless theater kid energy and I have yet to see it put better than that.

ELIDIBUS

Another Ascian known as the Emissary. Talks more about balance than ZODIARK!!!??!!!?11111!! and sometimes tries to have conversations instead of fistfights. Is not as good at having conversations instead of fistfights as Emet-Selch but is significantly better at it than Lahabrea, who will be described next. Elidibus is notable for spontaneously adopting a child and then passing that child off to the heroes as discreetly as he could.

LAHABREA

The third major Ascian and the first recurring one players meet in A Realm Reborn. Lahabrea seems like he is probably a few screws loose, fucking loves to blow shit up, embarrasses all of the interns who get stuck with him, and spent years in charge of PR before his colleagues realized that was a mistake. Makes very poor life choices. Apparently he used to be a fantastic orator and was praised for his imagination but these talents have since been replaced by ZODIARK!!!??!!!?11111!! and explosions. Has been described as an idiot by Emet-Selch and “unique” by Elidibus, who needed to take a very long pause before saying so.

G’RAHA TIA/THE CRYSTAL EXARCH

Honestly this is only pseudo spoilers, basically everyone figured out who he was well before Shadowbringers got released. Catman is currently doing battle with another character called Haurchefant for the position of #1 fan to the Warrior of Light. Has some wild misadventures with you that involve exploring ancient ruins, excessively long fetch quests, clones, and getting sucked into a demon world. Later runs across time and space to save your life but kind of almost gets you killed in the attempt. Says he is very sorry for this later. Just doing his best.

NERO TOL SCAEVA

A scientist who fights with a massive hammer, formerly worked for Garlemald but finds himself unemployed later. Is better than the engineer Cid, who gives you all your tech. He is also a troll, an egomaniac, and fucking hilarious. It takes a while for the extent of this to be revealed because A Realm Reborn still had some issues.

AYMERIC DE BOREL

Basically in charge of Ishgard, for a while literally but now only mostly. A very reasonable authority figure, runs the the Warrior of Light across several countries when you get injured in battle then chills at your bedside. Thinks you should relax sometimes. Encourages this by taking you to dinner once.

ESTINIEN WYRMBLOOD

Broody Dragoon McAngst of Ishgard, fucking hated dragons for the longest time because they murdered his whole family. Goes on an extended journey with you and in the process reveals he also hates moogles with a burning passion. Chills out a lot later, has demonstrated he is in fact a real bro.

YSAYLE DANGOULAIN/ICEHEART/LADY SHIVA

Delusions of grandeur and good intentions, also chosen by Hydaelyn and possessing The Echo. Figured out she could use her possession of The Echo to literally become a primal without losing her mind or body. Wants peace at any cost and will kill shitloads of people in the name of peace. Morally questionable but an interesting lady. Disagrees strongly with Estinien about moogles.

HAURCHEFANT GREYSTONE

Name sounds like a sneeze, is currently fighting G’raha Tia for the title of #1 fan to the Warrior of Light. Apparently there was an event where he said he wants the Warrior of Light to be his pony, as in he wants to ride you. Has shirtless men doing squats in his office. Saves your ass when shit gets real for Heavensward and then saves your ass again when the Pope’s bodyguard tries to murder you. It does not go well.

ZENOS YAE GALVUS

Absolute serial killer who feels like you complete him and give his life meaning and are his BFF. Probably wants you to fuck him. Also the crown prince of Garlemald and has spent years trying to engineer situations that will produce someone who can actually fight him as an equal. Doesn’t give a fuck about most things but jesus does he go yandere.

FRAY

If you become a Dark Knight, Fray becomes your NPC mentor and basically takes the Warrior of Light on a journey in becoming batshit insane. 10/10 Best teacher hands down.

SOPHIA THE GODDESS

A primal who I love to pieces, basically shows that the only way you can have perfect balance forever is if you are literally dead. We know this because the song that plays during her fight is about her murdering an entire family because they were unstable.

SRI LAKSHMI

Another primal who I love to pieces, just full throttle lotus eater in action where she encourages you to go fuck everything and be happy. Super pretty.

SEPHIROT THE FIEND

One of my top fav primals, pure id and distorted Kabbalah. I have a lot of feelings about him and have analyzed his fight to pieces.

CENRIC ASHER

Lol he just my Warrior of Light. I have a story for him but it is not official or anything.

THE FIVE BILLION OTHERS

Probably other people’s characters! I just really love seeing what people come up with, whether it’s their version of the Warrior of Light or going full-throttle into OC territory. It’s really refreshing to me, seeing how passionate and inventive people get. ^^ There are plenty of other important NPC characters, some I would even consider favorites of mine, but I just don’t post them as much.

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR JESUS CHRIST GET YOURSELF A COOKIE OR SOMETHING. GOD DAMN.

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv screenshots #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #shadowbringers

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elektra121 · 4 years

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Dear Yuletide Writer!

It is this time of the year again and I’m very happy we both take part in Yuletide - and that I have you as my assigned author (or, as a pinch hitter)! You seem to be a talented writer and very giving person, and also to have quite good taste in fandoms - otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this, would you?

Now, here are some things about me: I am German (so feel absolutely free to write in German if you are able and want to!). I work as a teacher for biology and German literature and I love all things artsy and crafty. Which, of course, includes fanfiction, since it is both artsy and crafty. In order to help you find some inspiration and ideas for the story you’re about to write, I’d like to tell you some things about what I like and dislike and what I love about my fandoms. Here we go:

Likes: I like Happy Endings! :) Yay! Especially at Christmas. Really, I do. I honestly believe Happy Endings to be one of the things that made mankind tell stories in the first place. This world can be scary and mean and unfair and hard - so why not use our creative mind to create a different world that is peaceful and good and fair (in the end)? Don’t get me wrong, a Happy Ending need not be all sweet sunshine and sugary cupcakes and unicorns. From time to time, I enjoy a good darkfic, but especially at Christmas time I prefer something at least optimistic in tone. I hereby confess that I’m a hopeless idealist and romantic. (Although, I think, the Nibelungenlied may be a story that really is not made for a happy ending, so you absolutely can go darker with this fandom.)

While I appreciate some good humor, yet for some reason plain comedy isn’t really my cup of tea.

I like the characters in my fandoms! Very much. They are the cause I chose those fandoms for yuletide! And likely you like them, too. So show to me what makes them special, what they can do that no other person could, what drove their authors to tell us about them in the first place, and most of all, what you love about them! I’d love to read about the lesser known sides of characters - but that does not mean I won’t enjoy their established traits very much, too. It is both that makes them complex and life-like. I should add that I really am much more interested in the “good guys”, who - in my eyes, too often get disregarded in favour of “the interesting wicked guys”. It is my sincere opinion that the goodies can be at least as interesting.

What about porn? Yes, please - if you feel like it. Personally, I’m not so much into the technical details as in the feelings for the participants, the intimacy, the thrill, the thoughts, the small things, a touch of realism. And I much rather would have a story without any sexytimes than one with a scene that does not stick true to the overall vibe or has make you feel uncomfortable in writing. In case of kinkyness - if you can justify it in-character and in-story, this is absolutely fine! Maybe a little festish may work wonders to symbolize some deep-rooted feelings or wishes? (I believe, this could work quite well for the Kudrunlied…) Of course, if you do not like any of it, that’s completely fine, too!

Speaking of which… Dislikes: As I’m sure you may have guessed from what I said already, I don’t like fics that include character death(s) and accurately described cruelty (physically or otherwise). I’d prefer the (main) characters to stay alive. At least at Christmas. Please - do not let anyone die and please don’t make atrocities the point of your story. Otherwise I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy it.

What I like about the fandoms: Charité (TV, 2017) There is so much I like about this series - somehow it seemed to be a dream come true: all the loving research that went into the tiniest nerdiest details of medicine history (Virchow’s bureau, the notion that not everyone instantly bought the “illness is caused by little animals”-idea of Koch, injections being given into the shoulder, Behring using his own horse for research purposes etc. etc.), the charming aesthetics, the overall idea of a series about an important moment in medicine history, the nod to the crucial part deaconesses (women!) and Diakonie (the idea of Christian charity!) at whole played in the establishing of modern medicine! Being a biology teacher, I knew about most of the persons shown, yet had never had a chance to see and show them to my pupils this lifelike, even if of course the series is fictional! Also, it is great how so many diverse life styles of the Wilhelminian Era were shown… I’ve never seen anything the like before.

Here are some plot bunnies that you may or may not use: I'd love to have a "Chrismassy" fic - Advent and Christmas time at the Charité. How do the people we love from the series celebrate? How do they prepare for the season? Do the give or receive gifts? What do they love (or dread) about Christmas? Does it bring back memories or do they make new ones? Would like the mood to be light and warmhearted and festive in general, even if darker tones are inevitable, I think, given the time period and it being a hospital. Obviously, my greatest love is for Therese/Ida or Therese&Ida, but feel free to include as many people from the series as you like. I'm sure Matron Martha and Nurse Edith for example would lend themselves nicely to this. Or: Sister Therese is sent to a sanatorium - maybe there she comes to terms with herself, gets visited by Ida or meets another love interest – more or less a more optimistic, feminist version of the MagicMountain ;) Or solely some little getaway of her with Ida on a Sunday leave in Berlin.

Feel free to use as many characters from the series and make up as many OCs as you like! I would be especially delighted if Matron Martha makes an appearance.

Kudrunlied I really like the dynamics between the women of this epic. Especially Gerlint - Kudrun - Ortrun.

Gerlint could have been shown so easily as simply the evil queen, but isn’t. The author calls her “she-wolf” and tells of her cruel deeds and plans on Kudrun, yet in the same instance, shows her as competent queen, dutiful wife and loving mother who may have deserved death, but not like this and not what happened to her body. I love the complexity in this! The relationship between Gerlint and Kudrun seems to have something of a hate-love, with not so little sexual undertones in the scene, where Gerlint plans to whip Kudrun by herself, with no one around. If you want to elaborate on this impression (not neccessarily this scene!),

And think of Ortrun, who seems to be the nicest person who ever lived! Caught between two stools, with her duty and love for her mother and brother - and on the other hand side her loyality and friendship (or is there even more?) for Kudrun. Comparing her to the other two women, she seems the weak one - but is she? She was the only one who dared to protest Kudrun’s ill treatment - even if only by crying in public.

(Also, Hildburg, the quiet, yet totally loyal friend – why is so so steady and persistent when everybody around her is not? From where does she takes her resources – in a situation as bad as hers is? And how did Hartmuot perceive all this? He seems a knight in shining armour, a good man through and through - and yet he did not gain the one he loved.) Feel free to use as many people from the epic as you like. My favourite, I think, would be Gerlint, though. And I really would enjoy some femslash – although absolutely, this isn’t necessary, especially if it isn’t your coup of tea.

Not a person in the story (or maybe, in some way, it is): I really love how much this story is about the sea! Ships and crashing waves, castles that have windows that look out to the ocean, whole battles on sandbanks, longing for your loved ones on the other side of the great water, standing in the foam with naked feet, freezing and washing and living and loving by the banks of that wonderful, enigmatic, overwhelming, epic force of nature.

DSA – Das Schwarze Auge (The Black Eye – Pen&Paper Roleplaying Game)

If you are not familiar with this fandom (which is highly likely), it is something like „the“ German Dungeons&Dragons. And, sadly, because of its overwhelming mass of fantasy world folklore and history would not make for a good substitute fandom, I’m afraid.

In this world, I always felt most „at home“ in Nostria, one of the two „warring kindoms“. People from the Empire may look down upon that small swathe of land in the North, with its mostly unlettered people, prone to superstition and fatalistic resignation, doomed to war against their neighbor country forever. Yet it is the land of helpful, hard-working, resourceful people at the same time, persevering all strokes of fate.

And the story of „our beloved Queen“ quite touched me. Just imagine being a student learning for exams, then the news of an epidemic in the city – and the next thing you know is the information that everyone of your relatives is dead and – congratulations! you are queen! (And bound forever to this jerkwater country and shark pool of nobility, shattering all dreams of seeing the world and becoming a great magician.) I really liked her depiction in Carolina Möbis‘ „Mehrer der Macht“. And despite me normally not being a big fan of romance (sub)plots in novels, found the one of Yolande and Eilert highly believable… and highly sweet. There is no fiery passion, no brimming-with-desire-underneath, no epic declaration of undying love, no princessy behaviour, no shining armour. They are two adults that happen to share a lot of the same problems and ideals, understanding each other only too well, and their mutual love and fondness for each other stems from deepest respect for the other person. Even if, on the surface, they have so little in common, even if they disagree about a lot of things (or maybe, because of this) their love story was one of the most convincing ones I’ve read in my lifetime. So sad their fate will be some state of constant arguing, since this is Nostria and they are bound to the magic of the land.

I would love to have some happy little refuge for them both – some short time, somewhere, little getaways from the oppressing dutys of everyday politics for a queen and prince consort. I’d like to see their fondness for each other (and, growing love) fleshed out a little more, sneak a little into how they settle into their private lives as newlyweds or how they stand their ground against the higher nobility and, Rondriane von Sappenstiel? How they negotiate their relationship, in private and in public? What do they love about each other? How do they tackle their quarrels?

Hm… and I think that’s pretty much all I can think of. :)

May the Muses be grateful! Have fun writing!

Ute (elektra121)

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anotherhawk · 5 years

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Some thoughts about how the clones spend their downtime

It's Saturday night, it's time to drink tea and think about some world building.

So I think we can say with some certainty that the clones didn't have many things to do for fun on Kamino. I'm thinking in their downtime they had sparring, officially mandated strategy games, and whatever word games, complicated versions of tag etc that they made up themselves. But once they were out in the galaxy, even in the midst of the war, there would have been so much more and I like to think that their Commanders, and to a lesser extent their Generals, would have tried to ensure they get to experience as much as possible.

(I'm mostly going to be talking about the 212th on the Negotiator here, but that's just for my own interests. Assume this is happening to a greater or lesser extent everywhere the clones are allowed even the smallest hint of self expression.)

It starts in small ways. Vod come together to learn new specializations from each other, and try to learn new martial art styles from holoclasses. Things that they don't think anyone can object to. From there they go on to watching less professional material...terrible rodian action films, and holodramas with Jedi who make dramatic speeches and swoon, overcome, in the face of cruelty. If pressed they could still claim that this is strictly research....but no one presses. Not even General Kenobi when he walks in in Drifter and Trey watching the climactic finale of 'A Light in the Temple' and remarks that if he wore THAT under his tunic he would die of chafing halfway through a fight, before apologising and leaving them to it.

Films. Holodramas. Documentaries. The holonet is open to them and soon there are little clubs forming all over the ship, groups of brothers who come together to watch THEIR shows, to talk and laugh and be together without having to hide it. And sometimes there is only one brother left from the original watching club, except that there is NEVER only one brother left. They are vode. They support each other, and that means sitting through Rylo's karking awful medical dramas as surely as it means watching his back in battle.

And then, of course, the clones create. They've been painting their armour and themselves from the beginning, but the first time the early shift goes to the mess hall to find someone has painted a mural of a stormy Kamino night on the wall outside there is nervous silence. No one asks who did it. (No one has to, Gregor's work is unmistakable.) The tension is palpable for the rest of the day, until Cody stalks off the bridge in search of caf, comes face to face with the mural and scowls. "Fantastic. Rain. You couldn't have gone for a nice sunrise?"

The next mural is a sunrise. In fact a lot of the next ones are. When asked about their battalion colours the 212th will swear blind to a man that they were chosen because "Commander Cody likes sunrises." Meanwhile, the living areas of the ship become a riot of colours.

There is a shipwide message board where clones can look for others who want to explore the same interests. Brothers who are interested in games and hobbies come together. An a capella choir, specialising in old Mandalorian battle hymns forms, right alongside an intense synth pop group. Once every two weeks the small rec room is taken over by a dedicated group of roleplayers, under the direction of Mercer, who leads his vode on a journey of adventure and daring deeds, where THEY are the heroes, the ones that matter, and where they get to live and win.

Cody monitors the message board carefully. Cody looks out for his brothers. When a small group forms with the vague idea that food is nice and cooking sounds interesting, some extra supplies come in the next delivery and one of the kitchens is opened up for general use....on a strict schedule, naturally. Paints are always available. Yarn is procured, somehow, for Cy and Sideswipe, who decide, buried under six feet of snow on Hoth, that learning to knit would be amazing.

Gradually, word gets around. If you have an interest then make it known and if at all possible it will be accommodated. Somehow. ("Chopshop wants to take up woodworking," Cody tells his Jedi despairingly over drinks late one night. "Do I look like I just carry trees in my back pocket?" They figure it out. They always do. And the somewhat wobbly wooden chairs that pop up in the rec room are the most fought over seats on the ship.)

(For those hobbies and activities that require equipment or expenditure in some way there is a line in the GAR budget marked "Sentient Resource Support and Development". Obi-Wan is careful to make sure that all the money for it comes from the funds of the Jedi order so no one can actually challenge them even if they do investigate.)

There's a converted storeroom deep in the heart of the ship that's full of plants and greenery. A communal garden in the middle of a Star Destroyer. General Kenobi can often be found there in the middle of the night when he's supposed to be sleeping.

Education is something that Cody can't offer on his own, but the Jedi can help. For those troopers who want to learn any of the several subjects he's well versed in, Obi-Wan is happy to teach classes whenever he can. In long journeys through hyperspace his lessons on galactic history are especially popular. (You can tell how well the Cloned Sentients Rights Bill is progressing by the content of the lessons. On particularly bad days he tells them all about planets with successful histories of collective action and civil disobedience.) For other subjects he calls in favours from all over the galaxy. Many experts, authors, scientists and university professors are happy to teach a class of eager and attentive troopers in their spare time, whether over holo or those times when the 212th are on Coruscant for more than a few days. Senator Amidala gives separate lessons in Senate politics, the culture and history of Naboo, and fashion and make-up which are all equally well attended. No matter what a vods interest might be, someone can be found to help them meet it.

Most of the vode are interested in learning more about Mandalorians. Duchess Satine might have issues with General Kenobi, but no matter who the messenger might be, she is willing to help mando'ade who wish to learn. Somehow, professors from the newly established universities of the new Mandalorians all independently decide to get in contact with the many children of Jango Fett and offer them another side to their history and culture

There are groups that form to try and better their brothers lives. These tend to cross over the entire GAR. Groups that write letters to senators about their lives, their working conditions, their need for freedom. Groups that research the laws of the Republic and try and turn all the ways their existence is a crime into an argument about how they are people, not just flesh-covered droids. Groups who look ahead, to the future a kind galaxy might grant them, and research how they might start a colony of their own.

What I imagine is a whole newly emerged culture full of people trying to establish who they are and what that means. People who have been thrust into a war, not if their making, who are intent on seizing every new experience, who find joy in between moments of pain and destruction. Just...clones having fun. Please. It's important.

#star wars #star wars: the clone wars #tcw #my writing #headcanons #clone headcanons #clone culture #212th attack battalion #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi

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helshades · 5 years

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Tip of the Nose: Eaux Thicker Than Water

Today, in our great series on the history of perfume(ry) that nobody really asked me for, I reply to a simple comment and manage to make it into a very long lecture on perfume concentration. Stay yourselves with flagons!

Eau de toilette or eau de parfum, perfume is never sold pure but diluted in a water-alcohol solution. In principle, the percentage of actual perfume determines the commercial appellation. In principle.

In any case: mind the French! Your reputation may depend on it.

——————————

@katbelleinthedark:

Yes good. I have a lot of eau de toilette(s?) as I'm #poor&cheap and I never wear that as I always forget to use it. I once had the same bottle for 13 years.

Well, I occasionally wear perfumes from bottles issued in the 1970s and 1980s, so if the old bout of snobbery catches you off-guard sometime you can still pretend it is ~vintage~ juices you’re keeping. I’ve just placed a bid on EBay for a ‘perfume extract’ bottle of Jean Patou’s mythical Joy (definitely not the horrid recent Dior release of the same name) that was left unopened in a shoebox for decades, meaning there’s no way to tell if it’s actually wearable or not. I have issues. Mostly with my banker. [Edit: as it turned out, in a cruel twist of fate, that the bottle in question was actually a dummy. The seller, overtaken by doubt, finally broke the seal open and confirmed his worst suspicions. No Joy for me this year.]

In any case, it will be eau de toilette or eaux de toilette, not eau(x) de toilettes or you’d be suggesting that you’ve been lining up jars of toilet water on some cupboard shelf for years—not that I be judging, but still. Others might.

Although, technically, les toilettes in reference to the crapp... er, the loo, has only been a plural since the 20th century, and it isn’t necessarily true of all variants of French since the Belgians for instance still speak of la toilette. In any, the euphemism is transparent: it’s the equivalent of ‘the lavatory’. The French version mostly comes from the locution cabinet de toilette, referring to the small, private room specifically used (by rich people) to ready themselves for the day, and gradually, as hygienic practices progressed throughout the 19th century, for hygiene purposes as well: in other words, the equivalent to the English ‘bathroom’—and indeed it ended up being replaced by the latter’s literal equivalent, salle de bain.

Jean-Baptiste Fortuné de Fournier, Le Cabinet de toilette de l'Impératrice Eugénie à Saint-Cloud, 1860. Or when you realise that First Empire style is basically Donald Trump’s bathroom meeting Regency fashion.

No, the toilette of eau de toilette is a more direct reference to the cosmetic aspects of a noble’s routine, as la toilette since the end of the 17th century has referred to the act of preparing oneself to appear in public. If the word literally translates as ‘small towel’, it’s only because the toilette, between the 14th and 16th centuries, had come to refer to the fine cloth that was laid on the table where one would set all utensils meant for personal adornment. By metonymy la toilette was then used to speak of these utensils, then the piece of furniture in question (the ‘dressing table’ in English), then, abstractly, the various acts by which nobles readied themselves to appear in public. A number of paintings have portrayed ladies ‘at their toilet’.

The eau de toilette as it’s known today appeared in the early 1900s, thanks to the ‘flappers’, fashion icons of the Roaring Twenties who sought perfumes they could wear easily all day long. Technically, an eau de toilette is lighten than an eau de parfum, which is lighter than the most concentrated extrait de parfum, which used to be the only concentration available, prepared on demand for a wealthy clientèle; in more ways than one, the eau de toilette started perfume’s democratisation as perfumers began selling their products in different concentrations; for example, Chanel commercialised the already-revolutionary N ͦ 5 (created in 1921) as an eau de toilette as soon as 1924. Of course, a lesser concentration meant that the resulting product was cheaper, sometimes considerably.

Perfume extracts contain 20–40% essences diluted in almost pure alcohol (90° at least), meaning that only a dab suffices to perfume someone for most of the day. If the product contains rare essences (which is to say, when raw materials were scarce or if the extraction process was particularly delicate), a dozen millilitres may cost ten times the eau de toilette’s price! Jean Patou’s Joy, first released in 1930 to exorcise the 1929 crisis that deprived the famous French couturier of most of his American clientèle, was advertised as ‘the costliest perfume in the world’—a slogan created by American columnist Elsa Maxwell, a good friend of Jean Patou (and incidentally a pioneer of the treasure-hunt party game, for those interested). A bottle of only 30ml of perfume extract required 10,600 jasmine flowers and over 300 roses, and these only were the main ingredients! Current price of the extract: €1,000 ($1,121)... In passing, the two top consumers of natural jasmine today are houses Chanel and Patou, which both have their own private jasmine fields in Grasse.

Traditionally, perfume is described following three stages in the perception of particular ‘notes’, that is to say, the most discernible odours which tend to be more easily scented right after spraying, or on the contrary ones that can be smelled on the skin long after the others have evaporated: the ‘head notes’ (notes de tête) or ‘top notes’; the ‘heart notes’ (notes de cœur) or ‘middle notes’; and the ‘base notes’ (in French the notes de fond, ‘bottom notes’. The unfortunate yet I suppose unavoidable comparisons with a certain portion of human anatomy may well have decided that English-speaking perfumers should stick to a plainer term). Certain molecules are extremely volatile and can only be perceived for a few minutes after spraying, others are rather more tenacious and serve as a structure for the whole assembly. In a typical extract, top notes will make for 20% of the perfume, middle notes around 30%, and base notes, 50% of it.

On the other hand, the normal composition of an eau de toilette today will be around 50% top notes that evaporate almost immediately, 30% middle notes that last for about fifteen minutes, and 20% base notes that won’t last the whole day. This can also be explained by the fact that an eau de toilette only contains 10% maximum of concentrated perfume, diluted in a 50°–60° alcohol solution. Closer to the extract is the eau de parfum, which contains 7–14% perfume, dissolved in 90° alcohol (almost as much alcohol as in the extract). Head notes make for 40% of the fragrance, the heart is 30% and at the bottom, 30% as well. The beginning is usually intense but the scent will still fade quicker than in an extract... Nevertheless, still more affordable than any extract.

By the way, the real reason why we have eau de parfum in the first place isn’t so much the need for a middle ground between extracts and the lighter eaux as... the delicate matter of French taxes on luxury goods, which passed the 33% threshold in the late 1970s. To circumvent it, in 1978, Cacharel released its new perfume Anaïs Anaïs in two distinct concentrations, the regular eau de toilette and the novel eau de parfum version. An interesting side effect of it was that with this new concentration, the fragrances weren’t quite identical, either. For example, the eau de parfum version of N ͦ 5 which Jacques Polge created in 1986 was made following the traditional recipe of the extract, except the accrued sweetness of the vanilla noticeably emphasised the vivid citrusy head. Some women got into the habit to buy both versions of a perfume, reserving the more concentrated one to the evening or special occasions, for instance. Although, quite frankly, in the 1980s, the eaux de toilette were many things, but ‘office-friendly’, they were not. (Will elaborate, one of these days.)

Alembics and a bed of roses at the Fragonard factory. House Fragonard, founded in 1926, is one of the oldest perfumeries in Grasse, the oldest being Molinard (est. 1849, which makes it one of the oldest in the world).

I’m sure @thatiswhy will be thrilled to learn (or be reminded of the fact) that the mother of all alcohol-based perfumes is known as ‘Queen of Hungary’s water’, l’eau de la reine de Hongrie, maybe created in 1370 as a consequence of the European discovery of ethyl alcohol, or to be more accurate, the invention of the double distillation technique allowing one to separate in the alembic the ethanol from the foul-tasting esters. Before that, distillers added to their spirits such strong spices as anise or juniper berries, for instance, which covered the bad taste. In passing, the process of boiling a distillate several times is called cohobation, borrowed from alchemical lexicon (the etymology of Medieval Latin cohobare, as often is the case in this domain, is Arabic: كُهْبة, cohba, ‘brownish’, referring to the darker tint of the distilled liquid).

It is entirely possible that the initial recipe was based on an old formula for a rosemary tincture: the flowers were macerated in alcohol, but there was no distillation. This recipe was notably recommended by famous physician (and religious reformer) Arnaldus de Villa-Nova (c.1240–1311), who taught for many years at the prestigious Montpellier School of Medicine, before moving to Paris. He is, incidentally, credited with translating a number of medical texts from Arabic. He wasn’t the inventor of alcoholic maceration, of course, but his writings are an excellent illustration of what learned people thought to be good for the health at the time. Most often, there was little distinction made between substances that smelled good and remedies, and even in the 18th century perfume could still sell as an in-and-out panacea. The term elixir (borrowed from Arabic as well though the etymology is Greek), initially referring to a medicinal powder, was used in alchemy to speak either of the philosopher’s stone or a substance liable to cure all ills. Eventually, elixir came to refer to any alcoholic maceration of herbs, spices or fruits later distilled, to be employed as a medicine.

Historians have passionately debated which Hungarian queen exactly this miraculous ‘water’ was made for. It may have been Elizabeth of Poland (1305–1380), wife of Charles I Robert of Hungary. A popular legend had it that Queen Elizabeth obtained it from an angel and that it was so efficacious that she received a marriage proposal from the king of Poland at age 72—but historians have suggested that the confusion might stem from the fact that Elizabeth was named regent queen of Poland by her son in 1370...

Yes, alright, the legend might have been made up by perfumers who made an augmented recipe into a speciality of Montpellier during the 17th century; indeed, the first mention of it is found in 1660 savant books, at a time when the eau de Hongrie has become a favourite at Louis XIV’s court in Versailles. By that time, the old rosemary elixir was a more complex preparation, including marjoram, sage, lemon balm and cedrus. No matter the recipe, though, the use was unchanged: it was meant to be consumed or rubbed all over one’s skin, and expecting to heal migraines, various feminine vapours, rheumatisms, tinnitus, gout, palpitations, jaundice... (list far from exhaustive) up to the plague itself! Not to mention, of course, its many cosmetic advantages.

Note that such prestigious reputation isn’t completely unwarranted: ethanol is known today as ‘rubbing alcohol’ and ‘surgical alcohol’ for a good reason. Even though it is ineffective against bacterial spores, ethyl alcohol works well as an antiseptic against most fungi and bacteria, as well as a lot of viruses, killing organisms by denaturing their proteins and dissolving their lipids. This is a reason why spirits are known in several languages as ‘waters of life’: compare French eau de vie with Irish uisce beatha, for instance. In passing, alchemists were only trying to discover the recipe for an elixir of youth, you know.

Actually, the closest the perfume world can get to the infamous ‘Kit Marlowe really was Shakespeare’s plays unless it was all De Vere’ cross-century quarrel may well be the neverending bickering between the respective heirs of the Feminis and Farina families, since we may never know who invented the eau de Cologne, only that it became a huge sensation without ever needing to hire a very bored-looking, starving, overpaid actress to pout next to a bottle of it for it to become the talk of several countries, and a bit of a misnomer.

Versions diverge and (oddly credible) documents abund, but here is the most diplomatic variant of the story: one Giovanni Paolo Feminis, born in 1666 in northern Piedmont, emigrated to Germany where he opened a distillery in Cologne in 1693, in which he sold diverse scented waters, including a special aqua mirabilis (‘marvellous water’) made from rosemary, melissa, bergamot, orange blossom, lemon and citron essences in spirit. The true origins of this formula are unknown, but it’s hard not to think of the Florentine basilica of Santa Maria Novella, where the Dominican monks opened a perfumery in 1612 (which still exists today, making it the oldest perfumery in the Western world) in addition to the mediaeval apothecary office where sold essences, elixirs, balms... This pharmacy was already active in the 1300s, when historians found traces of rose water being sold by the friars to help repel the plague. Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) was a frequent customer of the time.

The convent's most prized product was probably created to honour Catherine de’ Medici when she left for France in 1533 to be married to the future King Henry II (she would be Queen of France from 1547 till she was widowed in 1559, after which she ruled France as a regent for her second son Charles IX, officially and officiously. She was an impressive bitch, Kate was) and took with her an Acqua della Regina in which citrus essences predominated, bergamot in particular. This is, indeed, very reminiscent of the ‘marvellous water’ which the Feminis distillery sold in Cologne in the late 1600s as a digestive and hepatic remedy, an antiseptic and a painkiller. Business was successful and Feminis was even named an honorary member of the Cologne Chamber of Commerce. Nevertheless, the perfumer died heirless in 1736.

In 1709, Piedmont-born Giovanni Maria Farina (he came from a village which his family co-founded near Feminis’ hometown of Crana) came to Cologne, where his brother Giovanni Battista traded luxury goods; Giovanni Maria was meant to lead a subsidary of their export company dealing toiletries imported from Italia: soap, perfume, face powder, and also wigs, lace, silk stockings, tobacco boxes... In that time, Cologne had the enviable status of a ‘free and imperial city’, which is to say it was subordinate only to the Holy Roman Emperor, as opposed to territorial cities which had to answer to territorial lords. What that meant for commerce was that by the time the Farina family established themselves in Cologne, Catholic foreigners trading in luxury goods—which meant gold, silver, silk and perfume—were welcomed with open arms. The privilege was abolished under French occupation (1794–1814), meaning that anyone could settle; one of the direct consequences of this was a significant rise in eau de Cologne forgery!

The famous ‘John Maria Farina opposite Jülich's Square ltd.’ perfumery (one of the oldest active perfumeries, too) notably sold an Aqua admirabilis whose invigorating freshness contrasted with heavier classical perfumes. A hydrolat (a result of steam distillation alongside essential oil, ‘flower waters’ are less concentrated than the latter and ideal for use as a lotion) added with brandy (eau de vie), Farina’s ‘admirable water’ contained rosemary, thyme, absinth, marjoram, melissa, lavender, angelica, hyssop, fennel, juniper berries, anise seeds, nutmeg, clove, caraway, nutmeg, clove, as well as lemon peel and bergamot oil... In spite of the impressive list of aromatic herbs, the Admirable Water is led by a sweet yet fresh citrusy scent. ‘I have created a perfume which is reminiscent of a spring morning following a soft shower where fragrances of wild narcissi combine with that of sweet orange flowers. This perfume refreshes me and stimulates both my senses and imagination’, Giovanni Maria wrote to his brother back in 1708.

By the time the Faculty of Medicine of Cologne officially recognised the great healing property of that perfume in 1727, Aqua admirabilis was renowned across Europe as Eau de Cologne, adored in every royal or imperial court. The first delivery to Paris was made in 1721 but the perfume became very largely diffused in France during the 1733–1735 War of the Polish Succession (between the Habsburgs and the Bourbons, and France was heavily involved because contender Stanislas I, disgraced former king of Poland, happened to be King Louis XV of France’s father-in-law...), thanks to French officers.

Under the reign of Napoleon I, when Cologne’s privileges were abolished, suddenly there were Eau de Cologne counterfeiting everywhere in town—it bears reminding that there was no such thing, at the time, as intellectual property... In the space of a few decades, nearly 2,000 forgeries were sold! Emphasis was put on the supposed medicinal virtues of the perfume, in an attempt to distance the concurrence. However, that did little to damage the success of the original preparation. In 1806, a grand-grand-nephew of the creator, Giovanni Maria Giuseppe Farina (also born, in 1785, in the family town of Santa Maria Maggiore) founded a perfume shop in Paris, rue Saint-Honoré, as ‘Jean-Marie Farina’. Quite interestingly, in an early brochure he claimed to be the great-grandson of Giovanni Paolo Feminis; which was, in all likelihood, meant to shut down rumours that the rights to the original Eau de Cologne should go to Feminis’ legal benefactors. True or not, Jean-Marie—who was one of Honoré de Balzac’s sources of inspiration for his character of César Birotteau—obtained in 1806 a contract to make and sell an ‘Eau dite de Cologne’, a ‘so-called Cologne water’, which was met with immediate success. Two years later, he had become Imperatrice Eugénie’s official perfumer, and he famously made for Napoleon I the ‘Emperor’s roll’, a special bottle that he could slip in his boot.

‘Cologne water is usually employed pure, or mixed with water or wine, depending on the circumstances. Its quantity must vary as well, for internal use a few drops with sugar or water, a teaspoon. For external use, doses are more considerable. It is used in liniments, frictions, unguents, localised or general baths, enemas and injections. For bathing the whole body, one may pour up to three bottles. In a foot bath, one should suffice. In an enema, in injection, one or two spoonfuls.’

— from a 1825 brochure...

In 1851, the authentic Eau de Cologne is sold in these small, slim bottles containing about one seventh of a litre, sealed with a cork and wrapped in printed paper with Jean-Marie Farina’s signature as well as an embossed stamp and a green wax mark bearing the arms of Prussia both on the box and on the bottle. Each bottle sold for one franc and 50 centimes, which mightn’t sound so impressive till you realise that at the time that was worth an entire year of a civil servant’s salary!

House Farina in Cologne still sells the original preparation as Original Eau de Cologne, but prestigious Parisian perfumery Roger & Gallet acquired the rights to the rue Saint-Honoré house in 1862 (which is how they became Roger & Gallet in the first place. They quickly made a name for themselves selling luxury soaps and quality scented waters), and they still sell an Eau de Cologne extra vieille. After winning a lawsuit over the right to use the name Farina in the first place, of course.

If the price is considerably less steep than what it used to be, one should also consider the fact that nowadays, eau de Cologne is a commercial appellation used to refer to an even lighter concentration of perfume than in an eau de toilette, 4–6% essences only. It is intended to be used as a lotion, a tonic for the morning, which may be a refreshing version of a perfume and worn at the same time as the latter. The citrus extracts do possess astringent, circulatory properties, not to mention their fresh, tart smell. The Extra-Vieille was advertised by Roger & Gallet in the 1960s as ‘a good friction for a good day!’ Glamourous. By that time, cologne had lost its aura of luxury. For decades it remained extremely old-fashioned, and not in the ‘retro chic’ sense... Then, in the early 2000s, fashion shifted and people began looking for ‘authenticity’, for natural smells, as well as simpler perfumes. Which, as always, is relative, since perfume overall is a luxury product and cologne by Guerlain (Eau de Cologne impériale, Eau de Cologne du Coq) for instance won’t be that ‘democratic’ an issue.

Still, my personal favourite shall remain Institut Très Bien’s Cologne à la russe, because I am weak. Also snobbish. And the perfume version, Très Russe, is one of my ultimate favourite scents of all time and space.

#aromaphilia #tip of the nose #perfume #to be continued

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notintheipswichboyband · 5 years

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Neutral Evil Trope

"For mine own good, all causes shall give way."

— Macbeth

One of the nine alignments from the best-known Character Alignment system. Sometimes known as the "Asshole Alignment" or "True Evil". Characters of this alignment fit neither end of the Law–Chaos axis, hence "Neutral", but they land at the morally worse end of the other, Good–Evil axis. Their methods vary; just as the Neutral Good character will ally with anybody to do what's right and nobody to do what's wrong, the Neutral Evil character will ally with anybody as long as it advances their own interests — and it is all about their own interests. These characters do not respect other people as people like themselves with feelings and needs; rather they are tools or obstacles inferior to the Neutral Evil, to be used for their advancement. Neutral Evil characters are intrinsically selfish people, regardless of whose side they are on, and as a Token Evil Teammate, they may sell out to the bad guy if it makes achieving their goals significantly easier.

Some of the world-shaking ones may seek to tear down an old order, good or bad, to set up their own order — not because their way is better, or for the pleasure of tearing it down, but because they want to be in charge. They will do it using any means at their disposal. To a Neutral Evil character, honor, standards and keeping your word is all well and good, so long as it doesn't get in the way. If their opponent is honorable and decent, that's great because they can exploit it. They are very prone to saying, "I Lied".

While they are usually villains, they can also switch to the good guy's side for a while, if it's better for them at the moment. True Magnificent Bastards of the Neutral Evil persuasion can sometimes (with a little luck) lure other villains into an Enemy Civil War, usually along the lines of Order Versus Chaos — playing Lawful Evil against Chaotic Evil — and cleaning up at both sides' expense.

Neutral Evil is, usually, the most dangerous type of evil to fight. Typically, neutral evil characters are The Unfettered, though that isn't to say they follow no code but rather only follow rules or codes that benefit them. Neutral Evil characters will use the law if it suits them but will throw it away as needed for their purposes. What can make them very dangerous is that, the intelligent versions of this trope, tend to be strict followers of Pragmatic Villainy. Ultimately, what matters is what they want and will cross any line to get it.

Neutral Evil types can come in a variety of different flavors:

Type 1: Neutral over Evil — These characters are amoral and commit evil for self-serving, but not necessarily malicious purposes. They tend to be in it for money and power but (generally) eschew motives like revenge or sadism, viewing them as barbaric or simply unprofessional, if they regard them at all; that does not mean they'll always, or ever, stop their bosses, partners or lackeys from indulging in such behavior, though, and they are usually prepared to Kick the Dog or perform Cold-Blooded Torture as a means to an end. Perhaps they are a Punch-Clock Villain, or maybe they believe there is Better Living Through Evil, or perhaps they are Blessed with Suck and their talents happen to lend themselves to evil (like, say, a talent for professional hits). Essentially, this is anyone who would be a True Neutral if not for the lack of conscience or empathy, or their practice of putting either aside to further their own ends. A type 1 will either not understand the difference between right and wrong, or understand but choose wrong anyway, perhaps justifying it with Necessarily Evil, or perhaps simply not viewing the whole Good and Evil thing to be of any special importance in the first place. On the other end of the scale, this can ramp up to Scary Dogmatic Aliens or Eldritch Abominations and anyone else operating on Blue and Orange Morality or Above Good and Evil, but who are just culpable enough to still qualify as evil.

Type 2: Evil over Neutral — These characters, in contrast, are immoral and deliberately evil. Egotistical, selfish, malevolent and sadistic, they recognize the difference between right and wrong (at least superficially) and willfully and gleefully choose wrong. But this does not make them Chaotic Evil, since they get the same amusement from using orderly or chaotic techniques. They are likely to do bad things just For the Evulz. Some are made of Jerk Justifications and try to justify their actions with insincere What Is Evil? or Above Good and Evil arguments; many others are Card Carrying Villains who revel being the bad guy and will boast about all the horrible things they have done or plan to do.

Type 3: Balance Seeker — These characters on the other hand are egomaniacal; they believe that they are the good, or even The Hero, and evil either doesn't exist or is whatever they don't like. These guys might recognize that the rest of the world has different ethical standards from them, but those standards are for lesser mortals and they will obey them only when it is convenient to do so. Often elitist and smug with a grandiose sense of entitlement and self-worth, they often think The Hero thwarts their plans out of jealousy, ignorance or spite and often fail to understand altruism or selfless behavior. They treat the bulk of humanity with indifference if not utter contempt, even if they regard themselves as a Well-Intentioned Extremist, believing themselves to be the center of the world, perhaps sharing it with a handful of semi-worthy competitors and everyone else exists to serve their needs or glorify them. Others don't care about the common person at all except as means to an end, while some are simply the Misanthrope Supreme and will shut themselves off from the trash that is mankind; or, worse, take a Kill 'Em All approach to Put Them All Out of My Misery. A Type 3 is fully capable of doing heinous or petty things For the Evulz and can be extremely sadistic and vindictive; they just won't consider such acts to be evil (at least, in general) because they feel they are entitled to do them.

Type 4 characters are devout- they are actually devoted to the cause of Evil (or similar sinister concept, eg. the Dark Side, Crime, Death etc.) and seek to spread it wherever they go. A Type 4 serves the resident God of Evil, seeks to open the Sealed Evil in a Can, or is the most fervent and sincere follower of the Religion of Evil, as well as actively opposing the forces of Good and going out of their way to do so. Others are more philosophical or political and advocate destructive, bigoted or Straw Nihilist creeds. The nuttiest of this type even believe Bad is Good and Good is Bad and think that normal or heroic characters are the true villains while applying Insane Troll Logic to demostrate that the "villains" are actually good. In spite of this servile approach, most are just as selfcentred and egotistical as any other Neutral Evil type; this often manifests in the real or delusional belief that they are "special"- perhaps The Chosen One, the Dark Messiah or even The Antichrist-, and they might view other followers as useful pawns or hated rivals. Some simply become addicted to Black Magic or assign religious meaning to torture and death; others are more mission orientated and come to serve as agents of dark powers or simply try to spread as much misery or death as possible. Though sometimes portrayed as cartooshily evil, the most serious of this type make very dangerous villains, as they truly do Evil for its own sake, and not (just) evil for the sake of themselves.

In practice, Neutral Evil often simply means "Evil", so Lawful Evil or Chaotic Evil are simply cases where one of the above types meets Lawful or Chaotic Neutral inclinations.

Neutral Evil can be the most dangerous alignment because such characters are willing to step on, betray, take advantage of, hurt, and kill other people to reach their goals and get what they want. The Neutral Evil have no difficulty working with others so long as their own needs are met. However, they also have no difficulty betraying former companions if there is some gain in doing so. They are also extremely susceptible to bribes.

In Dungeons & Dragons, characters who are selfish above all else are Neutral Evil by default.

If you have a difficulty deciding which alignment a evil-aligned character belongs to, the main difference between Lawful Evil, Neutral Evil and Chaotic Evil is not their devotion to their evil wishes, but the methods they believe are best to realize it:

Even though there are some situations where they can't always use this method, Lawful Evil characters believe the best way is to have a specific, strict code of conduct, whether self-imposed or codified as a law. Their first impulse when making a moral decision is to refer back to this code; those with externally imposed systems (codes of laws, hierarchies, etc.) will try to work within the system when those systems go wrong. Depending on whether they are more Lawful or more Evil, they will either refuse to break the code even though it would hurt their evil objectives, or else break it only very reluctantly, and only when it would hurt their evil objectives if they kept their code.

Neutral Evil characters are indifferent to Order Versus Chaos, and their only interest is in realizing their evil wishes. They will use whatever means will help in realizing their evil wishes, whether that means tearing down a code of laws, following a code of laws, creating an orderly society, causing the breakdown of justice, or staying away from society altogether. Their only goal is to realize their evil wishes, full stop.

Most Chaotic Evil characters don't constantly break the law, but they cannot see much value in laws (or, for weaker-CCEs, do not see the value in laws that do not function solely to their depraved objectives). They believe that their own evil impulses are their best guides, and that tying themselves to any given code of conduct would be limiting their own ability to realize their depraved wishes. They do not get along with anyone who tries to instill any kind of order over the Chaotic Evil character, believing these people to be restricting their freedom; Chaotic Evil characters often focus very strongly on their own individual rights and freedoms, and will strongly resist any form of oppression of themselves.

See Also: Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good, Lawful Neutral, True Neutral, Chaotic Neutral, Lawful Evil, Chaotic Evil

Examples of Neutral Evil villains:

Abusive Parents (if not Lawful Neutral or Lawful Evil)

Most villains who follow Ambition Is Evil

The more self-centered Amoral Attorney

Villainous versions of Beneath the Mask (especially seemingly nice characters).

Bullies, when not Lawful Evil.

The more villainous Byronic Heroes go here.

Some examples of The Caligula. (When not Chaotic Evil).

A good amount of Card Carrying Villains, when not Chaotic Evil.

Villainous cases of Chronic Backstabbing Disorder, as this is often associated with these type of characters.

Con Man: Those who aren't Chaotic Evil (Or, at their most sympathetic, Chaotic Neutral)

Some Corrupt Corporate Executives (if not Lawful Evil) who are motivated by greed and personal aggrandizement.

Cruella to Animals

Most evil Blood Knights if not Chaotic Evil

Many Dirty Cowards

Evil Chancellors who use illegal means to gain power.

Evil Colonialist (If not Lawful Evil)

The Evil Debt Collector when not Lawful Evil

A less lawfully bound Evil Overlord (example: Voldemort, Emperor Palpatine, Skeletor).

Some Faux Affably Evil characters when not Lawful Evil

The Heroism Addict (falls under Type 3)

Glory Hound and Glory Seeker, if not Chaotic Evil

Jerkasses

The Killer Game Master, cause he loves to see their players suffer

The most egomaniacal and self-centered Knight Templars (Type 3)

Les Collaborateurs

Many Generic Doomsday Villains, although they can be Chaotic Evil as well.

Mad Scientists that turn into Evilutionary Biologists and/or do things all For Science!

More amoral versions of The Neidermeyer

Not-So-Well-Intentioned Extremist

Politically Incorrect Villain (if not Lawful Evil)

Many Straw Nihilists

Most of the more amoral Professional Killers who are Only in It for the Money: Hitmen, most more sinister mercenaries, and most evil Bounty Hunters.

Most Psychos For Hire, when they're not Chaotic Evil

The Religion of Evil

Most Omnicidal Maniacs that aren't Chaotic Evil

Most Woobie, Destroyer of Worlds that aren't Chaotic Evil

Many Classic Villains

Most Pragmatic Villains

Many Magnificent Bastards

Many Narcissists, particularly the ones with the lack of empathy and propensity for manipulation that characterizes the personality disorder

The Ego of an evil-aligned Freudian Trio.

The Starscream, when not Lawful Evil.

Most organized Serial Killers

Slimeballs

Rather vicious versions of the hedonist, when not Chaotic Evil.

The Smug Snake or Big Bad Wannabe.

The Sociopath: Those who aren't Chaotic Evil (Type 2-4).

Most Sociopathic Soldiers

The Barnum, if not Chaotic Evil

The Quisling when not Lawful Evil

Evil Poachers

Evil Vigilante Men

Those who engage in War for Fun and Profit.

Most evil Yanderes that aren't Chaotic Evil

The Stool Pigeon: The Betrayer Barry variant is used as example of the alignment in the Player Handbook 3th Edition.

Can be either Red or Blue Oni depending on personal preferences.

Others, such as the Big Bad, can vary between Lawful Evil, Neutral Evil, and Chaotic Evil.

Expect any Neutral Evil state to be Mordor, and a Neutral Evil city the Wretched Hive. Neutral Evil characters are likely to be Unfettered. If they are, they can also be the most lethal kind of villain, as the most extreme kind of neutral evil (not Chaotic Evil like one might think) is what gave rise to the concept of the Omnicidal Maniac (though most Omnicidal Maniacs tend to slide into Chaotic Evil by the end). Many Corrupt Corporate Executives are Neutral Evil Jerkasses in charge of Lawful Evil MegaCorps — it's easier to get ahead in business when you cheat. Unlike a Lawful Evil CCE who'd fly into a rage over somebody else's infractions, Neutral Evil sorts rarely care (as long as they themselves stay ahead) — a suitably Affably Neutral Evil businessperson might even applaud a fellow cheater's "initiative."

#Info #Chase #Neutral Evil #Skies #He switches from 1 to 2 I swear lol #Way too often #though DOES it matter?! XD

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wonderlandmind4 · 6 years

Text

Café Crema Chp. 5

Summary: The first time was an accident. The second time was coincidence. The third time is just unlucky. The fourth time is getting out of hand and the fifth may or may not be with intent. Otherwise known as The One Where He Spills Her Coffee.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Buckets of fluff. Alludes to Infinity War and the Snap as this takes place afterwards (so please, if you haven’t yet seen the movie, please do). Implied Smut…maybe…eventually. IW spoilers for this chapter

Words: 6.6k This is for @captain-ariel-barnes 4k writing challenge, which, congrats! This is my first ever writing challenge, with my first ever reader insert, so please let me know what you think. (gif not mine)

Fic Writing Challenge Prompt: “You Owe Me Dinner”

When Y/N wakes up a few days later, she’s nearly tempted to go right back to sleep. The temperature dropped during the night and she didn’t have her extra layer of the thick fuzzy blanket atop her duvet. She could feel the cold radiating off her bedroom window, and all she wanted to do was snuggle back up into the warmth of her bed.

She couldn’t though. Today was the day that YouTube Band and their demanding, prima-donna manager who finds it beneath her to organize events with lesser known therapy centers, were coming in. The band themselves seem to be super excited about it. It was just the horrible woman Y/N had been dealing with for the past few weeks that made her dread the day.

Forcing herself out of bed, Y/N got ready for the morning. She decided on a thicker pair of black pants, a cream colored long sleeve shirt, a quilted tan leather jacket with matching knee-high boots and a thick white scarf. She would be inside for the majority of the day, hoping to avoid the crisp weather despite how much she loves it sometimes.

Y/N arrived at the Center earlier than usual, making sure everything is set in stone before the band comes in. Colin is already there, usually when her sister has early work meetings, she brings him by. Y/N greets her nephew with a tight hug, signing and asking him if he wants to help her color a thank you card for the band. He nods excitedly.

After the card and coloring is finished, Colin spots Millie coming with her parents and heads off to see her with one of the other OT’s. Y/N takes this as her chance to find Elizabeth in her office, an orange crayon still in her hand. She knocks on her door frame, pulling the blonde-haired therapist’s attention away from her notes.

“I rode on Bucky’s motorcycle.” Y/N informs her as a greeting.

The OT quirks an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism?” She deadpans. Y/N throws the crayon at Lizzie. She cackles when it bounces off her arm and lands on her desk.

“Why do I tell you things?” Y/N questions aloud.

“Because you seem to be incredibly infatuated with Bucky and you don’t know what to do with yourself.” Lizzie states, leaning back in her seat.

Y/N opens her mouth to deny it, but Lizzie beats her to it.

“Dave told me what happened that day. Don’t you think there’s something strange going on here?”

Oh something strange is going on alright, Y/N thinks happily, but she doesn’t voice it.

Lizzie continues. “Some mischievous version of fate messing with you both. I mean, it’s like you’re magnets or something being pulled towards each other. I’ve always been good at reading your face, Y/N. You like him.”

She’s about to deny it, but she can’t. Y/N sighs in defeat. “I think you’re right, Lizzie. Christ, that’s fucking terrifying.”

“Because he’s the former Winter Soldier, pardoned, now one of newest avengers, also dubbed White Wolf and has diplomatic immunity because of Wakanda?”

Y/N gives her a flat look. “Because I’ve never fallen for someone this quickly before. Somehow it feels…it almost feels like I’ve known him for months already.”

Her friend shrugs. “Sometimes it just happens like that. When you have a connection, you have a connection. I mean, you’re a grown woman, Y/N. It’s different to fall for someone quickly now, then it was when you were younger.”

Y/N remains silent, thinking it over. Sometimes people can just be enchanted by someone, and it can be so simple to just start a friendship; hell, even be blindsided by a spark of something more.

“Why did you ride his bike?” Lizzie questions after a minute of silence, pulling Y/N away from her thoughts.

“He said he was looking for someone to at look it.” She answers. “Which, he never answered my question about Tony Stark not looking at it or something. Anyway, I told him about my uncle’s shop, so we took an impromptu trip to Coney Island. We ate funnel cake and talked for a while. Then he brought me home and I-“

She clears her throat. “I kissed him on the cheek, said goodnight then practically ran inside.”

Laughing brightly, Lizzies says, “Y/N. That sounds like a date!”

“It was not.” Y/N disagrees vehemently.

The OT just shrugs, knowing she can’t convince her. “Well, did you finally get his number then?”

“No?” She asks confused.

Lizzie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I swear.” She mumbles amused.

Y/N chooses to change the subject then. “Anyway, I came here because I’m running to Ella’s, before the band arrives. Want anything?”

“I’m good.” She declines, tapping her travel mug. “That reminds me. The place providing lunch called to confirm again.”

“That’s three times.” Y/N shakes her head. “I’ll call them back, thanks.” She turns to go.

Arriving at the café, Y/N is relieved to find the line to be short. She’s only behind two people, glancing at the menu board as she waits. Her eyes light up when she sees the option for maple lattes, a sign that November has officially rolled around. She beams at Pete when it’s her turn to order, but he just glares at her.

“You tell Bucky I’m giving back his money.” He demands, pointing a nonthreatening finger at her. “A hundred bucks was too much.”

“Pete,” She chuckles, “it’s been like five days. He’s not going to take it back.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped distracting him, coffee wouldn’t haven been spilled and I wouldn’t be standing here trying to find ways to give it back to him.”

“Distracting?” She frowns.

“Yes, honey. Haven’t you seen the way the Sergeant looks at you?” Pete smirks, then pats her hand on the counter. “It’s the same way you look at him.”

Y/N is taken aback by his statement, and she can feel her cheeks warming up. “Please tell me what you’re talking about.”

“In all of your meet-cutes, each time ends with the both of you giving each other heart eyes.” Pete laughs softly. “It’s kinda adorable, actually. You’re both so smitten with each other. Coffee soul mates and all.”

“That’s not a thing Pete, and I have no idea what the hell you’re going on about.” She says.

Although her stomach has been filling with butterflies this whole time. She suddenly recalls her earlier conversation with Lizzie. She just didn’t know how obvious it was.

“He’s just…I just…shit.” She glares at him. “I hate you.”

Pete throws his head back, cackling. “I knew it!” He chirps gleefully. “You like him, Y/N.”

“I’ll have the maple latte, extra, extra large to help me deal with my irritating friends, please and thank you.”

He’s still laughing as he punches in her order.

“And the pumpkin French toast.” A saccharine smile on her lips.

Finally, he stops laughing and groans. “Dammit.”

“You said if I were to ask for them you’ll make them. I know just how much you love making them.”

“It’s a good thing you’re my best and favorite costumer.” He tells her fondly taking her card as payment.

Beaming at him, Y/N takes her card back and goes to sit at the same table she was at when Bucky crashed into her life. She clearly didn’t realize then how much they would see each other after, and how weeks later, they’re somewhat friends, and Y/N has developed a crush. She shakes her head at the memory and waits for her food.

Once she’s finished eating, she brings her plates to the counter, Pete scolding her for doing so. She bids him goodbye, grabbing her nearly empty cup of coffee and steps outside. For some reason, she can’t help the feeling of disappointment as the cold fall air greets her.

Y/N is only several feet away from the café when she realizes why. She had been expecting to bump into someone, and that someone wasn’t there. Abruptly, her side purse is buzzing, so she pulls her phone out to answer.

“Hey Liz-“

“They canceled!”

Y/N stops in her track. “What?”

“They cancelled, Y/N! That prissy manager called and pulled out! Said the band was above doing performances they aren’t getting paid for.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Y/N spits into the phone. She isn’t directing it at Lizzie. “We are paying them! I’m so- oh my God, I’m so mad right now, what the fuck.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do? The kids are expecting entertainment today, they were so excited.”

“Of course she didn’t call me, she knew I’d lay it into her.” Y/N sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Y/N. What do you want me to tell the children?”

Dropping her hand away from her face, Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t kn-”

She abruptly stops talking. Up ahead, halfway down the sidewalk, Y/N spots an all too familiar head of shaggy drown hair, and broad shoulders despite the black leather jacket. Her mind races, and it only takes 0.5 seconds for her to come up with an idea.

“Lizzie.” Y/N focuses her attention back on their conversation. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve got a solution.”

“What? Really!?”

“Tell everyone that the band couldn’t make it, they’re sick or something. But tell them I have a surprise instead. I hope I have a surprise. I’ll call you back.”

She hangs up, sticks her phone in her pocket, and starts brusquely walking back towards the café with determine, confident steps. Y/N downs most of her coffee only leaving a little at the end; four times of spilled liquid being enough to last her a lifetime.

She hopes this works, and she hopes her plan will go her way. Y/N is able to sneak behind a small group of women, and just as they pass the shop, she side-steps them, and knocks straight into a solid, vibranium made arm.

The purposeful impact causes her cup to tumble from her hand, and she makes no effort to stop it. Bucky however, reacts quicker this time, as if he was also expecting for this to happen again. His left hand shoots out so fast, Y/N can barely spot it. He catches the drink and his fingertips break through the thin material of the cup.

Bucky looks as if he’s about to be horrified again, embarrassed almost. Except when he realizes only a few drops of coffee are dripping to the ground, he tilts his head in bemusement. Y/N was rather impressed by his reflexes this time around, and she has to hide her amusement by rubbing her lips together. Bucky glances up at her, offering her a sheepish smile.

“Impressive.” Y/N quips. “How come you couldn’t do that the last two times?”

Bucky fish mouths for a few moments, it’s endearing. He seems to snap back to it and smirks. “Been adding coffee spilling prevention to my workout routine.”

The response makes her laugh. “Committed to your work, are you?”

“Absolutely.” His smirk evens out into a full smile. “What are you doing here at this time? Don’t you have that event today?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. I was wondering, if you aren’t busy or anything.” She bites her lips nervously for a moment, noticing the way Bucky’s eyes light up.

“That band I was telling you about, apparently their manager just decided to cancel the last minute and now they aren’t showing up. Which means there’s no entertainment for the kids today. Which sucks because they’re expecting a fun day, and I just really hate to disappoint them.”

Bucky reaches forward, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “Y/N, take a breath, darlin’.”

“Right, sorry.” She grins shyly.

He returns it and she takes a deep breath. Satisfied, Bucky drops his hands away.

“Right. I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor? I was thinking, maybe having some superheroes come by instead? You, I’m asking if you can fill in for that band?”

Her eyes slip past Bucky’s shoulder. Steve has been standing there the whole time, arms crossed in a relaxed pose. His eyes are dancing with amusement and there’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. His blue eyes shift between her and Bucky.

“Um, you too, Captain. If that’s alright?” Y/N shifts her gaze back to Bucky. “I mean, if you aren’t busy saving the world and all.”

Chuckling, Bucky says, “There’s not a pressing need for it at the moment, I don’t think.” He pauses for just a moment. “I’d love too, Y/N. I mean, we would- yes.”

Y/N feels her heart swell, and she swears it’s because he agreed and not because of the way his eyes reflect off the sunlight. Her bites her bottom lip, attempting to keep her smile tampered down, but it beats out. She beams at him, her mouth spread so widely her cheeks ache.

“Really!?” She confirms excitedly.

Bucky nods, opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He releases a soft grunt of air, catching her around the waist, the coffee cup falling to the ground. The all too familiar, comforting smell of leather and forest fills her nose, and Y/N realizes belatedly that she just fully crossed the line of personal space.

But then she’s thinking back to the few nights ago, when she pressed her chin to his shoulder, and when he caged her against his motorcycle at Coney Island.

Before she can get lost in the rhythm of his heartbeat against his chest, Y/N slowly pulls away. She doesn’t miss the way Bucky’s fingers linger and graze her sides though, and she needs to snap back into work mode before she can think too hard on it.

“Thank you!” She squeals, pulling out her phone again. “Seriously, you’re saving the day.”

“Glad I can help.” Bucky smiles, his cheeks looking a little darker in color. He pushes his hair behind his ear. “Is there a time you want us there?”

Y/N glances at her phone. “It’s almost nine now, so around 11? You can have coffee or breakfast. It’ll be for maybe two hours as well if that’s okay. We’re providing lunch too.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Great!” Y/N bends down to pick up the cup from the ground. “It’s six blocks from here, right on 15th and 7th.” Her phone begins to ring, and she shoots Bucky an apologetic look. “I have to run though, but I’ll see you in soon?”

“Wait.” Bucky takes a step forward to grab her hand before she can leave. “What if we get lost or something? Can I have your number just in case?”

Y/N moves her gaze briefly again. Steve Rogers just snorted behind his friend’s back, his head dropped back and staring up at the sky. His reaction makes her curiosity spark, but she ignores it in favor of smiling at Bucky.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers almost breathlessly. She mentally scolds herself; his touch and his question and his incredible cobalt eyes are affecting her. “Yeah. Here, give me your phone.”

He releases her to pull out his phone and unlocks it. Y/N takes it, her fingers grazing his as she does so. She quickly adds her number to his contacts, choosing the coffee mug emoji to put next to her name and sending a text to herself. She smirks when she hands him the phone, Bucky laughing under his breath.

“I really have to go though,” She tells him, beginning to back away. “Prepare things, and uh- I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, Y/N.” Bucky agrees, a rather soft tone to his voice. “See you soon.”

She waves at him. Abruptly she remembers Captain Rogers there as well, aware of her surroundings more now that Bucky’s scent isn’t clouding her head. She smiles awkwardly, then heads down the street. When Y/N is about to turn the corner, she glances back, sees Steve laughing with his hand on his stomach and Bucky punching his arm.

“Holy shit, Y/N, you’re amazing.” Dave whispers excitedly at her. “We’ve never had an Avenger come in before. How did you manage that?”

Y/N makes sure the little kitchen area they have is set up correctly. As she’s handing Dave a food receipt she answers.

“Helps when you literally run into one of them.”

“Oh my god,” Lizzie giggles from the doorway, catching their attention. “That’s what you did?”

“What, what did she do?” Dave questions, looking annoyed that he’s left out of the loop.

Clearing her throat, Y/N informs him. “I may have run into him. On purpose. With my coffee.”

“You’re going to give that man an ulcer from all the stress you cause him.” He shakes his head.

“This is, what-” Lizzie starts, “the fifth time now? Did you at least get his number this time? Or a real date?”

Y/N ignores them both as her phone vibrates. She pulls it out of her pant pocket, a spark of excitement igniting in her stomach. Instead of answering, she shows them both the screen.

“Now, if you are quite finished.” Y/N rolls her eyes fondly, “I’m going to greet them, and bring them up. Everyone’s ready?”

“Yup.” Lizzie nods, a proud smile on her face. “Go get your man.”

“I’ll hide any and all coffee.” Dave pipes in.

“If we weren’t surrounded by children, I’d say something rude to the both of you.”

As Y/N steps out of the elevator onto the main lobby floor, free of her leather jacket and scarf, she spots Bucky instantly. Next to him is Steve, dressed in his Captain America uniform, or rather, an older version. She holds back her chuckle, stopping by the front desk to allow them access and give them guest passes.

“Hi again.” Y/N greets brightly, stepping directly in front of Bucky.

He isn’t wearing that navy blue vest that he usually does in battle, but he did change from his casual gray shirt from two hours ago into a dark blue button up. It makes his already enthralling eyes pop vividly against the color. He’s kept his chestnut hair out of the bun, but tucked behind his ears.

“Hi.” He chirps back, a nervous tilt to his smile.

“I just want to thank you again for agreeing to this. Honestly, this means so- oh. Hello.”

Y/N stops mid-sentence, because suddenly several other Avengers walk through the doors. She can’t help her mouth from dropping in surprise. She glances at Bucky and Steve, then back at the others. Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Spider-Man in his full suit since his identity is still secret, and Sam Wilson.

“Bucky?” She questions softly, “What-“

“I called them.” He interrupts her gently. “I figured the children might enjoy the day even more than just with a couple of 100-year-old men.”

Warmth begins to seep into her veins, and Y/N knows it has nothing to do with the heaters inside the building. The cheek aching smile is back, minutely shaking her head because she can’t really handle how thoughtful Bucky was. She only asked him and Steve, a last minute thing, and here he was, calling in his friends as well. Their little moment of just staring at each other is broken when a rich dark hand nearly shoves Bucky aside.

“Sam Wilson.” Sam introduces himself, a genuine smile on his lips but a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Bucky winces, then quickly turns to introduce Y/N to everyone else. She shakes their hands, greeting them all brightly, then grabs extra passes. After Y/N hands them all out, she escorts them to the elevators. Before she presses the button to call the elevator to bring them up, she turns to give them the run down.

“First,” Y/N commences, “There’s about twenty-five children today. They’re all super cute and sweet and they have no idea you all are here, so thank you again for coming. It means a lot to us. Second,”

Y/N points to Bucky. “If they ask you to show them how to take your arm off, feel free to tell them no.”

A laugh startles out of Bucky’s mouth, the rest chuckling as well. “I’m assuming that’s not the first time they’ve asked someone?”

“They ask Lizzie, and Kristen, two of our Occupational Therapists, to show them all how to do it. They always try to trade their own prosthetic’s, but as they’re each individual and uniquely fitting, you can see the problem.”

“Tell them no, got it.” Bucky agrees, still laughing.

Y/N moves on to Wanda. “If they ask you to make them float in the air, say no.” To Spider-Man she says, “same if they ask you to web them to the ceiling so they’re hanging upside down.” To Steve –“ If they want you to bounce them on your shield-“

“Say no.” Steve answers for her.

“Basically, anything you think a child wants to do that’s even remotely a bad idea or dangerous, say no.”

“So, no darts then?” Clint pipes up sarcastically.

“Unfortunately, their throwing skills aren’t up to par to the great Hawkeye, so no.”

“I like her.” He whispers to Bucky, who just elbows him in the ribs with is left arm. Clint winces then glares at him.

Y/N shoots Bucky a triumphant look. “We have some activities set up, coloring and puzzles, that sort of thing. But this is just mainly a hangout session. Most of these kids are here every day, and the therapy can get grueling on them, so we like to give them something that’s fun and makes them happy. They all love you, by the way, so I hope this will make their day.”

Finally, Y/N hits the button and the doors to the elevator ding. She allows them to board first, following after Bucky. As the doors slide shut, she subtly taps the back of his hand, his skin warm and smooth. They share a quick look, Y/N mouthing thank you once more. Bucky’s fingers graze over her knuckles briefly, before pulling back and disconnecting their contact.

Anytime, He mouths backs.

The surprise goes over much more enthusiastically than they all expected. Each kid is ecstatic, all taking turns and hugging each Avengers several times. Once the hugging and the loud chirps of names calm down, a few of the kids begin to take each different hero’s hands and tugs them to a corner or table to the center.

Bucky lingers behind Y/N. He looks a little apprehensive around the kids, as if he isn’t quite sure what to do exactly. She proves herself right when Bucky leans closer to her.

“I haven’t really done this before.” He confesses in a whisper. “What if they don’t like what they see? What if they don’t like me at all?”

“Impossible.” Y/N says way too quickly. She catches herself too late, and clears her throat, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. “They love you, Bucky, honestly. A superhero who helps save people, who helps save the world, who also shares something that is apart of them?” She glances at his bionic arm, half on display of dark blue and lines of gold with his sleeve rolled up to his elbow.

“You think so?” He asks, like he needs reassurance.

Y/N nods her head to a different part of the room. “I do, Just Bucky. See?”

His gaze follows hers. An older girl, Maliyah who is eight, is shyly waving at Bucky. She’s one of their newer kids to the center, sitting in a wheelchair as she is only just beginning to learn how to walk again with her new prosthetic right leg.

Bucky shoots Y/N an inquiry glance, and she nods encouragingly. Bucky walks over to Maliyah, meeting her half ways as she was coming over to them. She gestures to the wheels of her chair, showing him blue and gold design of the wheels, modeled exactly in the pattern as his arm.

Y/N stands there for a few minutes, watching the interactions. None of the children seem disappointed that the band didn’t show up, and she’s just glad that she was able to bring other people in to make their day. The smiles and giggles of the kids in the center reminds her of just how much she loves her job.

Unfortunately, she still has emails to answer and phone calls to make, so Y/N is in and out of her office for the next hour. Between phone calls for future events, including the upcoming holidays and fundraisers, she leans against her door frame to view the Avengers entertaining the kids.

Wanda is twirling her fingers, showing off some of her powers as she lifts crayons and markers into the air. Some of the younger children clap, and a few of the older boys stare in awe at her. One little girl is attempting to braid Wanda’s hair, and bless her soul, the Avenger sits there patiently.

Sam is making a group of older kids laugh hysterically as he retells a story of him flying through the air. Apparently, he had taken flight and some how forgot it was Fourth of July and was dodging fireworks all night. He’s animated in his storytelling, and with permission from Lizzie, picks up one of girls and zooms her around to demonstrate.

A light tinging noise pulls Y/N from looking at Sam to the other corner of the room. Captain America’s new shield is sitting on one of the coloring tables, and Steve is just allowing one of the youngest kids to tap out a beat with his prosthetic hands. Steve smiles over the boy once and a while, then he goes back to drawing pictures with the four other kids surrounding him.

Clint has found Colin, and they are sitting quietly in the corner playing with Legos. Every once and a while, Colin will take pieces from Clint’s pile and throws them a few inches, giggling every time Clint dramatically crawls over to get them. They make a game out of it, and he even surprises her when he signs to her nephew.

Spider-Man has a group of girls and boys, all asking him questions. They range from how he can stick to walls, to if he can control spiders like Ant-Man can control ants. He shows off to the kids by flipping backwards and they all clap giddly and laughing.

Y/N moves her gaze around the room until she spots Bucky. Millie has attached herself to his side, marveling over their shared left arms. Maliyah is still next to him, holding a smaller boy, Jacob, in her lap. He allows both Jacob and Millie to play with his arm, curling his fingers and tracing along the lines of gold. Maliyah, who is extremely bright for her age, seems to be asking Bucky about the scientific making part of his arm, and he seem just as intrigued to answer her the best he can.

“This is amazing.”

Dave’s voice pulls Y/N from her thoughts, ripping her eyes away from Bucky. She has no idea how long she had been staring at him for, but the look on Dave’s face says it was a while. She nods in agreements.

“Careful, Y/N.” He jokes quietly. “Your fond is showing.”

“Hush.” She hisses at him, elbowing his side. “This is strictly for the children.”

He goes to respond, when the phone rings in her office. Y/N sighs tiredly, beckoning behind her. Dave nods his head in understanding as she goes back to work.

There are times when Y/N wonders how she has so much patience when it comes to seemingly heartless people. She’s been on the phone for the past hour now with a big sponsor of Loving Arms. She listens to their rambling, her leg bouncing rapidly, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her stomach is churning, and it’s beginning to make her patience ware thin.

“I just don’t understand why your company has abruptly decided to drop our Center.” Y/N repeats for the tenth time. Her voice is harder, colder at this point. “You’ve been a sponsor for us for years, and suddenly we’re too small a scale for you?”

“We’re sorry.” The man Y/N has been speaking with doesn’t sound apologetic at all. “There just isn’t enough publicity.”

“Alright, so tell me. How am I supposed to let these children and their families know that they can no longer afford therapy sessions and prosthetics because you decided to give up on them? That you dropped us because, what, we aren’t good enough? Sorry, we only care if your facility is rich because that’s the only way we’ll even remotely associate you with us. You guys are doing a stand-up job there.”

“Well, unfortunately, Ms. Y/L/N, that isn’t our problem. That’s yours and your Loving Arms-“

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Y/N snaps, a fierce protectiveness washing over her. “You do not have the right to drop us, pulling your sponsorship away, then bad mouth my Center. We care about our patients here, and we don’t heartlessly hound them for every last one of their pennies. Thank you for your business, but I think we’ll be fine without you now. Have a lovely day.”

Y/N hangs up the phone rather harshly, smacking it back down on the receiver. She leans back in her chair, dropping her head back and growling at the ceiling. A soft knock on her doorframe snaps her head forward again.

Bucky is standing there, holding a plate of food as an offering. There’s a slight look of guilt on his face as he walks in.

“Brought you some food because Dave said you’ve been cooped in here for an hour.” Bucky explains, setting the plate down on her desk. “I was wondering where you were.”

“How much did you hear?” Y/N sighs deeply.

“Enough to know that people suck?” He shrugs offering her a sympathetic grin.

She chuckles and he takes that as his cue to enter her office. He hands her the plate of food, but as his arm moves closer to her desk, she makes a point of moving her empty coffee mug to the opposite side. Bucky glares playfully at her before his mouth morphs into a smirk as he sits in the chair across from her.

“I got you everything because I didn’t know what you liked.” He explains, pointing to the array of chicken nuggets, fruit, a wrap and a sandwich.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Y/N smiles appreciatively at him, popping a grape into her mouth. “How’s it going, Mr. Popular?”

Bucky chuckles softly, and the noise makes her heart flutter a little in her chest. He pushes back his long hair with his hands, his eyes lighting as he just stares at Y/N for a few moments.

“You were right.” He answers quietly. “They seem to love me.”

“You’re an inspiration to them.” She tells him truthfully. Bucky scrunches his nose. “Do you not believe that?”

That same look appears in his eyes again, the same one that she noticed when he returned her shirt. The one he had when he invaded her personal space and caged her between his arms against his motorcycle. The one that makes her heart beat just a little bit faster.

“I do when you say it.” Bucky whispers, suddenly twisting his fingers together. “Because I think that’s what you see in me.”

Confidence seems to take over Y/N, because her response is something more of a confession. “I see a lot more in you, Bucky.”

He blinks in surprise. “Y/N-“

She doesn’t get to know what he was going to say, because the phone rings. Y/N has to tear her gaze away from Bucky, something much harder to do, and glances at the ID. She rubs at her temples with her fingertips, shooting him an apologetic look.

“I have to answer this.” She winces, already dreading talking to those sponsors yet again.

Standing, Bucky nods. “Good luck, I’ll try catching you later?” He asks, hopeful.

Y/N nods, smiling brightly at him before picking up the phone.

Needing another round of coffee after that second phone call, Y/N make her way to the kitchen. What she sees in the activity room halts her in her tracks. She hides herself half behind the wall, leaning against the frame.

Bucky is kneeling so he’s on a closer level to Colin. Her nephew is pointing at his arm as he tries to speak, but can’t form the words properly. Colin begins signing quickly in his excitement. To her amazement, Bucky smiles brightly and signs back to him. Colin makes a happy, enthusiastic sound, throwing his hands in the air.

The little boy proceeds to grab Bucky’s hand, allowing Colin to play with his arm as Bucky gently pokes at his cheek, making the boy laugh loudly. Y/N watches on fondly, that damn warm feeling coming back and spreading throughout her body. When Bucky looks up for a moment he meets her gaze, and he’s calm and bright and any reservations are long gone now.

It makes her heart flutter. She bites her lip to contain how big her smile is, and Bucky blinks, then looks away, a light tint to his cheeks. Y/N turns away, leaving them to have their cute little time together.

Y/N sighs as she gets off the phone once more, proud at herself for not yelling at the band’s manager, but also happy that she was able to put her in her place with sharp words, and that they will no longer be reaching out in the future. When Y/N leaves her office, the center is missing several super heroes, and one in particular.

“Where’d Bucky go?” She inquires aloud.

“They left remember?” Dave answers, holding a trash bag. “You were on the phone when they were saying goodbye?”

She vaguely remembers someone stopping by her office, but then leaving when she was in the middle of talking. Y/N hurriedly makes her way downstairs, hoping she can catch him. When the elevator doors slip open, Bucky is already out the door. Y/N quickens her pace, catching the door before it closes and nearly stumbles outside. Thankfully, he isn’t far at all, so she leans forward to catch his left hand.

“Bucky, wait.”

He turns, eyes wide in surprise, but a smile on his lips. Steve motions the rest of them will be waiting and continues walking. Y/N releases his hand, waving goodbye at the rest of the Avengers.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Bucky begins with a small shrug. “I was looking for you, but you were on the phone. We got called for an urgent mission.”

“Oh, I won’t keep you them.” Y/N says lightly, about to go back inside.

“No,” He shakes his head quickly, stepping closer. “I wanted to say goodbye to you.”

She ignores the anxious flutter of wings in her stomach. “I just really wanted to thank you again. For agreeing to come in the first place, and you didn’t have to call anyone else, but you did. You made them all so happy, Bucky. Thank you.”

“I was happy to do it.” Bucky tells her, “and if you ever want me- us- to come again, we would in a heartbeat.”

“I appreciate that.” She expresses honestly, smiling. “They really did love you, I hope you know that.”

“Thanks.” Bucky chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re all amazing kids. Colin’s your nephew, right?”

“They really are.” She agrees wholeheartedly. “And yes, he’s the light of my life, that one. Well, I’ll let you go hero it away then. Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Y/N, really.”

She nods. “Well, you have my number now, so, y’know. Warn me when you want to meet up and spill my coffee again.”

“I promise I’ll warn you ahead of time.” He laughs. “Have a good day.”

“Have a good mission.”

They linger for just another moment, then she waves because apparently she can’t stop, and turns back to go inside. Except, the shy expression on Bucky’s face just now, and the genuine, good heartedness of the man standing before her reminds her of everything she’s been feeling lately.

It’s slow, but it’s there. It sparked on the day they met, and it’s been burning like embers. It’s growing, and as Y/N has told him before, sitting on that bench sharing a funnel cake, she’s not going to hold back. She gains confidence and spins around.

“Actually.” Y/N pipes up. Bucky turns around as well walking towards her. “That reminds me.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows in question, waiting for her to elaborate further.

“It’s been like, five times and like twenty coffees at this point, spilled in various ways and the majority of it on me.” Y/N pauses. “I think you should make it up to me.”

Bucky goes from looking slightly guilty, to bemused in two seconds. He opens his mouth to speak, but she beats him to it.

“You owe me dinner.” Y/N states lightly, but with confidence she is faking because she’s nervous as hell.

He frowns, looking like he’s trying to comprehend what she just said. It only takes a few moments for realization to dawn on his face. A slow smile stretches across his full, pink lips, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“Come again?” He asks, but there’s mirth dancing in the water that makes up the color of his eyes.

She bites her lip briefly before letting it go. “I think you owe me dinner.”

Then, Bucky laughs, a softy breathy little noise. “I think you’re right, Y/N.” He steps closer to her. “That, I would love to do.” Suddenly, his face falls. “I can’t tonight though.”

“I know,” Y/N nods in understanding. “Avenging and stuff. I get it. No rush. Just, let me know when.”

She waves once more, and attempts to leave again, but fingers wrap around her bicep. His grip carefully pulls and spins her back around.

“7:30.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. 7:30. Is that alright?” Bucky inquires nervously.

Y/N beams at him, her heart rate speeding up. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s a date.” He smiles, then reluctantly let’s go of her arm. “I really should be going now.”

“Is…” Y/N starts, “is it dangerous?”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Might be, we don’t know for sure yet.”

She frowns fleetingly, concern flooding her chest. Y/N raises her hand to touch his chest. She realizes her little move, then quickly removes her hand in favor of grabbing his left one. She squeezes his fingers, the cool, smooth vibranium reminding her that he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. It doesn’t stop her next words though.

“Be careful.” She tells him quietly. Her eyes locked on his to convey how serious she feels about it.

Bucky comes closer, lifting his right hand. His fingertips graze along her cheekbone, before tracing the length of her jaw, sending a thrill of goosebumps scattering across her skin. His gaze drops to her mouth for a second, before snapping back up.

“I will, Y/N.” He promises, offering her a private smile.

Altogether, Bucky ceases contact, dropping his hands and stepping away. He waves once, then turns and follows Steve who had been waiting for him. Y/N catches the smug, yet proud expression on the Captain’s face as he wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

A cold breeze picks up right at the moment, and Y/N ran outside without her jacket or scarf on. However, she doesn’t feel the bite of the weather, just the blooming touch of heat leftover by Bucky.

****************************************************************

Previous Chapter 6

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radientwings · 6 years

Text

Of New Beginnings (Elriel Fluff)

Inspired by two prompts from the wonderful @julesherondalex and @queen-archeron: they both wanted to see a version of Azriel returning injured from a mission to a very worried Elain. Went a bit more fluffy with this one than planned, but hope you both like it!

Elain was used to being left behind while the other members of the Inner Circle went off on missions or into battle. Elain was no warrior; this was well known among them all. Oh, she’d had some training; she was a part of the High Lord and Lady’s family, after all. Some fight training was essential when so much of the world wanted your immediate family dead; or worse, captured.

Azriel had ensured she knew enough self-defense to get by, that she knew how to handle a blade as well as she was able when she really had no talent for it. That didn’t mean they wanted her anywhere near sanctioned missions, however. Especially as her powers were already coveted by their enemies.

So Elain waiting in Velaris was nothing unusual. She served her Court and its leaders better there, ensuring that all her visions were taken down and recorded for interpretation later. Ensuring that her life and her power remained safe.

Still, she worried. She worried a lot. How could she not? Her friends and family put themselves at risk – mortal risk – all the time. Elain hated that she herself was too weak to contribute in that way; it was a constant point of contention for her. On the one hand, she knew her presence would likely only be a distraction to them, would be more liable to get them killed. On the other… well, her fae instincts screamed at her to protect what was hers.

Today’s mission in particular gnawed at her stomach. Azriel and Cassian had left that morning, intent on subduing some rogue Illyrian war-bands, while the rest of the Inner Circle were off on a diplomatic mission in the human realms. Elain had been left to watch Velaris; to keep the city running smoothly in their absence. An honor, to be sure, but an empty one.

Even the mountains and mountains of paperwork her sister and brother-in-law had left her weren’t enough to distract her from her worry. She wasn’t too concerned about the meetings in the human realms; it wouldn’t be the first time they’d had peace talks there and, while they were never exactly smooth, they very rarely ended in violence.

The Illyrians, however, that was especially worrying. She knew most would have absolutely no compunction about hurting either Azriel or Cassian; two bastard-born Illyrians most considered unworthy of their wings.

Cauldron, Elain hated that they had to go off on their own.

It was made a thousand times worse when a vision suddenly blind-sided her, hammered its way into her head. Elain fell to the floor with the sheer force of it, with the way it overwhelmed her every thought, screaming at her.

She catalogued each image as they flashed across her eyes.

Cassian. Azriel. The Illyrian camps. A group of captured females. An ambush lying in wait. Azriel setting off a trap when he tried to free the females.

An arrow shot from the trees, meeting its target with horrific accuracy.

Blood. Blood everywhere as a winged body was shot down from the sky, the arrow stuck in a broad chest, too close to the heart. Far too close to the heart.

Azriel again. His broken body splayed on the forest floor.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

Elain came to with a terrified gasp. Azriel was in danger.

By the mother, no, Elain thought desperately.

She forced herself to her feet despite the residual dizziness from her visions. She needed to find a way to stop it. Azriel… he couldn’t be hurt like that. He couldn’t die like that.

Not on her watch. She wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t.

But how to stop it? He was all the way in the Steppes and Elain had never developed the power to winnow. She cursed under her breath, uncharacteristic of her but Elain hardly cared at that moment, not with the utter futility of it all staring her down.

She couldn’t give into the panic that was threatening to take her over though, not now when she needed to be able to think, to find a solution.

And then it clicked, so obvious she’d nearly overlooked it. But then, she supposed that was Nuala and Cerridwen’s purpose: to be forgetful, to be overlooked. They were sure to have some way to get in contact with Azriel, however; they were some of his most trusted spies, after all.

Elain found herself running down to the kitchen, hoping to find one of her friends there. As luck would have it, she practically crashed into Nuala, who was just exiting the kitchen upon her arrival.

“Azriel’s in danger,” Elain immediately blurted, barely sparing the time to right herself. “I’ve seen it.”

Nuala, for her part, didn’t make the mistake of not believing Elain, instead asking for every little detail. As soon as Elain was done talking, the so-called lesser faerie disappeared into shadow like she was borne from it.

The next ten minutes were probably the longest of Elain’s entire life, mortal and immortal. Her entire stomach churned with worry, anxiety eating away at her. The vision played over and over again in her mind, plaguing her thoughts.

Cauldron, what if Nuala couldn’t get to Azriel in time? What if she did but the vision’s events happened anyways?

What if… what if Azriel’s injuries would be fatal?

Sweet mother, Elain could barely bear the mere thought of that, let alone the reality. Please, she prayed to whatever deity might listen, please let him live. Let him live.

Finally, finally, Nuala returned, saying only that Azriel and Cassian had been warned, and that all they could do now was wait for them. She tried to distract Elain in the meantime, coaxing her into the very same kitchen that had brought her so much comfort in the first months of her immortal life. But Elain could not be swayed away from her thoughts of Azriel.

(A part of her felt guilty for that. Guilty because Azriel wasn’t the only one on this mission; Cassian was too. Cassian, who had welcomed her into his family with open arms and a huge smile. Cassian, who had become a brother to her. But still, it was the quieter of the two Illyrians that stayed on Elain’s mind.)

(Azriel… Stars, Azriel. Elain sometimes felt that words weren’t enough to describe him. He might live this immortal life in shadow, but the world would truly be a darker place without him in it.)

Hours later, Elain heard the telltale sound of two huge Illyrian males landing on the rooftop. She abandoned the work she’d been trying to distract herself with, running up the stairs and outside with all the speed she could muster.

The sight of Azriel standing there – alive – sent her heart racing with sheer relief. She found herself sprinting towards him, uncaring of the impropriety of it all.

“Azriel!” she exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck, burying her head into his crook of his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and blood and war but it was still Azriel. Her Azriel, her best friend in this life. “You’re alive,” she whispered. “Thank the Cauldron.”

He hugged her back readily, arms banding around her waist with such strength that she should have felt crushed by him. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Because this was Azriel.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, lips pressed against the top of her head as he spoke. “Thanks to you. Smart of you to find Nuala to bring me the message.”

Elain pulled back from him then, shocked to find that she’d shed a few tears in her relief. She wiped them away, pulled herself together. “Yes, well,” she said, unsure of what else she could possibly say to that, unused to taking compliments.

She allowed herself a brief moment to drink him in, however, standing there in front of her and not laying slain like he had in her vision. He was standing. Thank the mother and the Cauldron and all those holy things.

And then, suddenly, without warning, anger rushed through her. It was the anger of extreme worry, red-hot and all-consuming. Irrational. But she couldn’t help it.

“I wouldn’t have had to do any of that if you been more careful!” Elain found herself saying, voice rising. “How could you be so reckless?”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Reckless? There were innocents in danger, Elain.”

“I know that. It doesn’t mean you should plan to sacrifice yourself just like that!” She poked him in the chest with a single finger, hard.

He rubbed at the spot, looking at her with confusion. “If not me, then who?” he asked, as if that was an acceptable response.

(It wasn’t. Never would be, in Elain’s eyes. Nothing was worth Azriel’s sacrifice. Nothing. Not even her own soul.)

“I don’t know! I don’t. But you could have planned it better, you could have made sure you didn’t lose your life when it could have been avoided.”

He tapped her temple lightly, fingers warm against her skin. “That’s what I have you for,” Azriel finally said with a small smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Elain slumped a little, anger giving way to the fear that had caused it in the first place. “But what if I hadn’t seen? What if– What if I hadn’t been able to get you the message?” What if you had died anyways?

Azriel dropped his hand to take hers. “Elain. I’m fine. I swear it. It’s just a scratch.”

Her eyes widened. “A scratch? What? Where?”

He gestured to his right leg, where there was a deep cut in the meat of his thigh, blood disguised by the darkness of his Illyrian leathers; it looked like an arrow wound. Elain’s anger immediately turned inwards; how hadn’t she noticed that? Her fingers fluttered over the injury, like she wanted to heal it with a simple touch. She stopped herself just in time from actually making contact though; Cauldron, what if she hurt him more?

Elain looked back at Azriel, finding his eyes already on her, dark with something she didn’t recognize. (When did he get so close?)

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, voice tremulous. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize… I can’t believe just ran at you.” Stupid, stupid Elain.

But Azriel shook his head, suppressing a smile, eyes full of incredible fondness. “It’ll heal. And I liked the greeting.”

A flush rose on Elain’s cheeks. She looked down at their linked hands, played idly with Azriel’s fingers. “I wish… I wish you wouldn’t get hurt all the time. I know it’s for a good cause, I know it’s for a purpose, but I– I can’t–” she trailed off, words choking her.

Azriel went completely still in front of her, like he was holding his breath. “You can’t what?”

She flicked her eyes back up to his hazel ones; the very same that always seemed to be able to see through to her soul.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt,” she admitted. It was more than just that, she knew. But she wasn’t quite ready to say the rest out loud. Not yet.

“Elain,” he said, like her name held all the answers in the world.

“Azriel, I–” she shook her head suddenly; mother, but where were the words? In lieu of something to say, Elain found herself lifting his scarred hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. She peered up at him shyly, found that he looked shocked, this tips of ears slightly red. “Please. Just be more careful? I– There are people here who care about you.”

He seemed to consider something, watching her with an inscrutable expression. “Like you?”

Elain couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to. “Yes, like me.”

A smile, small but utterly beautiful. “In that case… can I try something?”

The deep gruffness of Azriel’s voice sent a shiver through Elain’s spine, his closeness making her heart flutter almost uncomfortably. Yet Azriel tugged her closer, his free hand coming up to frame her face, to tilt it upwards. She nodded then, words caught in her throat.

And then he kissed her, surprising her utterly. It was no soft, chaste thing either, like she might have expected from him. No, this was full of burning passion, as red-hot as her anger had been earlier. It was the kind of kiss that forced gasps out of her, that left her breathless. A clash of tongues and teeth and pure want.

When he tried to pull back – probably to bring sense back to them – Elain pushed herself to her tiptoes, chased his lips with hers. She tightened the fingers she had in his hair (how did that happen?), not allowing him any further from her. That was clearly enough encouragement for Azriel, who wrapped her tighter in his embrace, surrounding her completely.

Elain loved it. Couldn’t get enough. Her body sung for more, her mind hazy with it. And her heart. Well, her heart was full to the brim of a feeling she didn’t want to name just yet.

And then, like a splash of ice-cold water, Cassian’s voice interrupted them. “Alright, lovers, as much as I’m happy for you both – especially for Az here, who really needs to loosen up – he does still need to see the healers,” he said loudly, clearly laughing at them.

Elain flew back from Azriel, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Stars, she’d completely forgotten that Cassian was right too, hovering at the edge of her vision.

Even worse, she’d forgotten that Azriel was still wounded.

She eyed his injury now, safely a few steps away from. “I’m so sorry,” she babbled, “I didn’t hurt you more, did I?”

Azriel still wore that small smile of his, full of delighted fondness. He was probably a bit delirious from all the blood loss, she thought. Cauldron, but Elain could be so stupid.

But Azriel stopped that path of thought before it could get too far, shouldering past Cassian to get closer to her again.

Elain looked up at him, wide-eyed, suddenly overwhelmed by him, how big he was next to her. He reached out to tuck some loose hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek gently. The softness of his actions sent her heart aflutter, made her feel even more flushed than when he had been kissing her.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised. He leaned in once more, pressed his lips against her forehead briefly, an indescribably sweet gesture. His voice was low, a whisper only for her ears. “Especially if I have you waiting for me.”

With that, he grinned at her – a full, wide grin – and pulled away, heading back to where Cassian was watching them both with a knowing smirk.

“Not a word,” Azriel commanded of his brother.

Cassian’s smirk only widened. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face says it all,” Azriel grumbled, protesting as Cassian pulled one of his arms over his shoulders.

“I’ll bring him back in good health,” Cassian called back to Elain, that wolf’s grin still in place. “Can’t have him sweeping you off your feet with an injured leg, now can we?”

Elain spluttered, wanting to say something about not being swept anywhere, but Cassian never gave her the chance, only winking before he forced Azriel to walk away, leading him to the healer’s.

It took Elain a long, long moment to gather herself and go back inside. And even when she did, she was sure her face looked like it was on fire. But, for once, she found she couldn’t care much about her embarrassment, not with how her cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Besides, her thoughts were more caught up on what might have happened if Cassian hadn’t been there… if Azriel hadn’t been injured at all.

Well. Maybe next time. Maybe they’d have a hundred more opportunities. Maybe a thousand more.

Elain certainly hoped so.

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