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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Wallflower

18+ ONLY

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), masturbation, dirty dreams, implies age gap (reader is in 20s+/of age, just younger than Ezra)

No use of (y/n) in this one!

A/N: I know this was not one of the things I should be working on, and I procrastinated on my coursework yet again to write fan fic. I’m so in love with Ezra and I have wanted to write something for this character for a while. It’s my first time writing for him and I was so intimidated to write something about him because his manner of speaking is so unique that I’m worried I won’t do him justice! Hopefully you all enjoy!

Next thing I post will be the final part of Rest! It is currently in progress!

I will be updating my taglist form soon to include Ezra and other Pedro characters I write for so check out for that if you want to be tagged in future fics!

This is unedited and if I miss something to tag as a warning please let me know!

Tags and Requests and OPEN

“Ezra, for once can you please shut the fuck up. You’re driving me crazy,” you sigh, pulling off your helmet as you both return to your shared pod. It was a fairly long trek from the mining site back to your makeshift home and Ezra, being himself, talked the whole time- not once missing a beat.

“Not once have I ever had the pleasure of conversing with one as eloquently a sweet talker as yourself,” Ezra winks, making you roll your eyes. You weren’t actually mad at him, you could never, but one of the side effects of Ezra was limited moments of peace and quiet. In many ways, you and Ezra were very similar, and it made you really compatible partners.

But unlike Ezra, you really enjoyed quiet. Ezra, on the other hand, has had more than his fill of quiet for his lifetime and he basked in the ability to vocalize his every passing thought to you. It wasn’t often you felt the need to tell him to stop, but today had been particularly challenging and you couldn’t think of anything else besides the quiet of night and a good rest.

Ezra and you worked well because you were so much alike, but your differences also paired you two nicely. Ezra was without a doubt the biggest and most long-winded talker you had ever met and you were the best listener, opting to be the silent one in the conversation more times than not. You weren’t necessarily shy, just someone of a quieter nature. You mostly kept to yourself, by choice really, while Ezra struggled with solitude, it was one of the strengths of yours that you were able to endure it better than he could.

When you first met Ezra, he had called you wallflower, cause frankly you were one. Settled in the far corner of the pod with your notebook in hand, sketching instead of talking with the rest of the crew, Ezra made the effort to saunter over to you and made it his personal mission since day one to break you out of your shell. Made sure during mealtimes, he sat next to you, talked to you, asked you questions. Frankly, you owe the friendship you have with him now to his openness and talkative nature.

“Flower, I hope my parley on the trek back didn’t offend,” he says as he sheds off his suit.

“Not at all,” you say with a small smile, “Sometimes my meter runs out on my ability to listen. Tires me out.”

“I suppose I can understand,” Ezra replies, “I honestly seem to have the opposite problem, all my years in the Green, I never had the pleasure of someone to listen to besides my lonesome. Now that I have you, I find myself utterly unable to suppress my desire of spoken prose and I’m afraid I do tend to take advantage of your gentle nature.”

You nod, understanding him very well. It was coming up on seven months since you and Ezra had been on your own. The other three members of your crew had parted ways with you both, seeking out a better treasure.

Ezra, knowing what this planet and greed does, insisted on just doing his job and leaving, and you strongly agreed. It had been so long since the three of them went off for the buried riches, and you don’t even know if they will be returning to your pod at your scheduled time of departure in a few months’ time. Ezra told you stories about how he’s witnessed this job change people, and how he’s seen planets swallow up one’s humanity with no forgiveness. He was doubtful that any of them would return, and you were now starting to realize that his prediction since the beginning was correct.

Once your suit was off and put away, you smoothed out your hair as best you could by touch without a mirror, and headed over to the storage cubby where you both had your rations and grabbed you both a bar. You tossed one over to Ezra and he caught it effortlessly. Peeling back the wrapper of yours, you took a bite and collapsed on your cot.

“I never thought I’d miss those meals they served in the mess hall up in the station,” you comment, “I’d take a portion of those watery mashed potatoes and mystery meatloaf in a heartbeat if it meant I never had to touch one of these bars again.”

Your words made Ezra chuckle, his laugh deep and husky. You loved it. Your chest always swelled with pride just a tad when you had the ability to make him laugh or smile. More often, it was always him getting those reactions from you with his words and you liked the feeling when you were able to return the favor.

You closed your eyes, not falling asleep, just letting them rest while you chewed the rubbery ration. Ezra, tore through his always rather quickly, and he noticed that you still tried to savor yours despite your complaints. Like the taste, even though lacking and the texture terrible, was still like a reward for completing another hard day’s work. He admired that about you. You hadn’t been working this job as many years as him, as he was a few (plus a few more) years your senior. The things about this job he’s long since ignored or has gotten used to, still affected you. You still tried to taste your food, instead of scoffing it down like him and other seasoned prospectors.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” you say, breaking him out of his thoughts. He felt flushed knowing that he had been caught. It wasn’t intentional, more and more it was hard to keep his mind clear of thoughts of you.

“Sorry, flower,” he mutters, and you smirk, rendering him speechless for the first time all day.

It was undeniable that Ezra’s feelings for you were bubbling up closer and closer to the surface each passing day he spent in your company. You grounded him in ways he hadn’t realized he had needed. He needed someone to reign in his ramblings and tether him back when he lets his mind wander too deep. He needed you. There was this dependency that tied him to you now more than he ever experienced with another partner. It was friendship, sure. But he’s been friendly with partners past, and not once has he felt about them what he feels towards you.

He was a hopeless romantic, his thoughts of love and relationships were as poetic as the words he spoke. Yearning, completely head over heels, his mind constantly cluttered with scenarios of the ways he would court and win your affection if there was no inkling that lingered in his mind that was there to remind him it was a bad idea. You were much more practical than he ever hoped to be, much more wired for logic than he was. However, Ezra was blissfully unaware of how he had begun to rub off on you.

You found yourself daydreaming, caught up in your own little fantasies and escapes from reality, far more often than you had ever in your lifetime. Ezra, always the star at the center of it all. Living a life where you could stay with him somewhere more permanent, different career that didn’t require you both to float from planet to planet, chasing after prizes that weren’t actually yours- you just acted as a vessel, a taxi service for someone else’s riches.

You imagine scenarios where you would have met Ezra at a different time, or a different place. However, you often scolded yourself for allowing your stupid crush to occupy so much of your time. You were here for a job. And then you will leave and move on to your next one like always. It would be too painful to face rejection anyways, you reason. You can imagine the look on his face, thinking about the nicest way possible to reject you. That’s what you want to avoid, the pity. The niceties that will be forced after his inevitable rejection. The first friendship you’ve had the pleasure of having in years are gone just like that.

The pod was more spacious than the pod you would’ve been issued had it just been you and Ezra since the beginning. Two people sharing a pod designed for six felt much more like a livable space. More leg room, more spaces for privacy, it felt a little more like a studio apartment special wise than a glorified tent. You had even pushed a couple of the standard issue cots together and secured them tightly. You had the luxury of an extra pillow, and two of the thin mattress pads- it was like you had a full-size bed, with a beam running down the middle you did your best to cover by overlapping the mattress pads in the center. It was the most comfortable sleeping arrangement you’ve ever had on these expeditions.

Ezra and you strung a line across where both of your makeshift beds were positioned in the pod, and you hung a tarp across the line to make yourselves a privacy curtain. It was like you had your own room and he had his own as well. Ezra’s side was a little cleaner than yours, yours was a little cluttered with little mementos you find and want to bring back with you. Rocks, or small geodes… occasionally you’d bring back small plants that you double checked were nontoxic and you had them set up in makeshift planters- one of the crewmates that left abandoned an extra helmet that was damaged, and now you have an obscure green and purple plant sprouting up proudly from it.

Ezra’s side was much more standard. He had a pile of his old books, all of them weathered, looking like they’d been through hell and back. He had field books, and notebooks that held his years of accumulated knowledge of how he’s survived the Green. He ended up copying your bedding arrangement, and he agreed it was the most comfortable bed he’s had in years. He said it felt like a luxury a prospector like himself didn’t deserve. He also had a small collection of rocks that lined the ledge behind his bed. Little gifts from you, all of them.

“This one reminded me of you,” you’d say, passing him a unique rock while you struggled to keep the handful of the others you collected balanced in your hands. The grin on your face when you’d collect the little things was one of his favorite sights. When the partition that separated the beds was opened, it was a comical sight. Like a bedroom of a married couple on old television shows, where they had different beds and each side was decorated to that person’s tastes. Most of the time though, the partition was closed.

It made changing easier, the bathrooms and showers in pods no matter the occupancy size always had small, cramped bathrooms. However, it created a false sense of privacy because it did absolutely nothing in terms of suppressing noises. Ezra sometimes babbled nonsense in his sleep. The man literally unable to stop talking even when he was rendered unconscious. Most of the times it was completely incomprehensible, not even sounding like real words. Sometimes you’d hear a sentence maybe, but without knowing his dreams it was still alien to you. It was comforting to you hearing him on the other side of the partition, and knowing he was right on the other side made it easier for you to sleep.

Tonight, was no different, curled up in your bed, you were drifting off to sleep while Ezra had long fallen asleep before you. The weight of today’s expedition felt like it melted right off of your body as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were close to falling asleep, just savoring the moments of comfort before letting your mind drift when you heard Ezra say your name on the other side of the makeshift wall.

“What is it, Ezra?” you whisper, grumbling that he interrupted you right before falling asleep. He doesn’t respond, and instead you hear a low snore on the other side. He must’ve fallen back asleep, you figure, closing your eyes. They shoot open a few minutes later when he repeats your name again, but this time it’s a deep moan. His voice was husky and it sent a vibration right up the back of your spine. Your eyes widened at the realization that on the other side of the curtain, Ezra was dreaming about you. You shivered when he let out another involuntary, low groan. If you hadn’t been listening you probably wouldn’t have even heard it.

What do you do? You mind is racing with trying to figure out how to handle this situation. Do you wake him up? You also try your hardest to ignore how every small noise on the other side of the curtain is just going right to your core, making your thighs squeeze together while you keep your own arousal at bay. It was wrong of you to listen in, but you really don’t have much of a choice. You force yourself to take a few unsteady breaths to calm yourself, but it does nothing to ease you in your shocked state. Kevva, the noises he was making were like music. You often wondered what he would sound like. His voice on its own is already so perfect. But in this context? You wanted to hear nothing else.

You don’t even know how long you lay on your bed paralyzed before the temptation becomes too much and you are sliding one hand down the length of your torso and into your sleep shorts. You delicately slide your hand under your dampened underwear and your fingers instinctively find your clit. You bite your lip, trying your best to suppress the whimpers that escape your lips as you think about the man behind the partition. Your months of pining for him you finally let yourself submit to.

It had been a while. There was no privacy on the pod at any moment. When someone was using the shower, from the other room everyone could always hear the rustling around, if they were humming. It was better to just not try at all. The risk of getting caught was always too high. This was the first time you acknowledged and succumbed to your desires this entire mission. It had been so difficult to avoid, but now, you are taking advantage of the opportunity presenting itself to you. You weren’t even thinking twice, just closing your eyes and imaging the fingers inside you belonged to Ezra. You were so caught up in your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that Ezra’s side of the room had fallen silent.

Ezra sat up on his bed, His eyes fixated completely on the tarp that was the only thing separating him from you. He felt shameful, waking up from another dream about you. He woke up hard, and he felt immensely guilty. Then he heard your soft moans you were trying so hard to hold back. Now he sat on his bed, completely captivated by the noises on the other side, while he pleaded with himself to either make a move or just try to ignore it and get a few more hours of sleep. He snapped when he heard his name fall off your lips in a small whisper.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” he hears you say on the other side of the curtain. He smiles, probably ear to ear like a goddamn dopey teenager. He stands up and pulls the curtain back, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you laid out. You had stopped, knowing your statement would cause him to pull the curtain back, but the evidence of what you were doing still lingered- your hair sprawled out messy on the pillow, your sleepshirt haphazardly pushed up exposing the smooth skin and curves to him, the slick on your fingertips and the small wet spot on the front of your shorts. You looked up at him with doe eyes and he thought he might collapse on the floor at the sight of you.

“Flower,” he whispers breathlessly in the dark. The only light coming in was from the moonlight outside from the small window on your side you had opened. He thought you looked ethereal, a sight to behold that he was not worthy of gazing upon. He’s speechless. You can’t quite make out his facial expression in the dark and you mistake his breathless tone for discomfort.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, sitting up slightly. “I just... I heard you dreaming about me; we don’t have to bring this up again. Its just loneliness getting to me…”

He tentatively kneels down in front of your bed and you move to hide your face in the pillow so you don’t have to face him. He gently cups your face in his hand, and guides you back to face him. He actually says your name, and you might die hearing it on his lips.

“If what you say is true, and this is nothing more than a lapse in judgement, fueled by the loneliness of the Green, I swear to you I shall never as I live hold this moment against you, and you and I shall commence in the morning living like it never happened. But, if there is any chance these feelings that I have harbored for you are reciprocated, please grant me this opportunity to show you how much I am completely transfixed by you.”

You are now the one rendered speechless as you try to process the new information and the proposal Ezra has offered you. You are having difficultly allowing yourself to believe any of this or anything he says is true. Part of you was wondering if this was part of a dream and you hadn’t yet realized you were asleep. You had to reach out and touch his face, feeling his stubble under your touch, any sort of evidence to know he was physically right there.

“You’re real,” you mumble to yourself, and he chuckles. He takes the hand which you had rested on his face and he presses a kiss to your wrist.

“The number of times I have thought the same thing about you,” he mutters, moving your hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Flower, please…”

“This is more than a just a whim,” you admit, exhaling shakily, “Ezra… I love you.”

“Oh, how I’ve longed to hear those gracious words on your lips, flower,” he smiles, his gaze not breaking from your face.

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss, unable to take being separated from him anymore. You move your lips against his and you can feel his smile as he moves to position himself on top of you, not even needing to break the kiss. Your limbs tangle with his, and you run your hands through his tousled curls, wanting to just let your hands touch every part of him that he would let you. He rests on hand on the back of your neck, while he uses the other to keep himself from putting all of his weight on you.

“You’re bewitching,” he says softly, as he pulls away from your lips to leave a trail of kisses and bites down your neck and collar bone. “Your beauty is unmatched by anything these tired eyes have ever witnessed,” he praises, as his hands move to slide nimbly under the fabric of your shirt.

He plans to take his time, to completely worship every part of your body and vocalize in every way how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. His moments are slow, and sensual, making you feel like complete putty in his hands. He wants to savor absolutely every part of this shared moment. For so long has he dreamed about this, and so far, everything about you- your noises, your soft skin, all so much better than he ever envisioned. His calloused hands savor every inch of you they graze, committing how every part of you feels to his memory.

His moustache and stubble leave goosebumps behind on every part of your skin he kisses. He leaves a trail of marks behind that with time will definitely darken into small bruises, evidence he can gaze upon tomorrow to remind him this all was not just a dream. In his head, he pleads with his maker that if this is a dream may he please never wake up and suspend him in this sleep state forever. A small price to pay to have you entangled in his arms.

“I love you,” he repeats over and over as he kisses down your body, pressing kisses to every inch he can see and touch, just like he’s wanted to for so long in these strenuous months. His movements are gently, and you moan softly at the sensation of his knuckles grazing your skin as he pulls your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you know completely bare in front of him.

“I want to spend the rest of my days between these thighs,” he mumbles, pressing kisses to your inner thighs and his hands grab them and pull them apart gently. Like a man starved, his tongue works skillfully, giving you so much attention. Your hands tangle in his hair, and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. He loves the reactions he can elicit from you and he loves the taste of you. You’re as touched starved as he is and he wants nothing more than to stay between your legs for hours as you moan praises, and shudder under his touch. You back arches and you can’t help but squirm at the sensations, but he holds your legs gently, keeping you in place. The first time he brings you to orgasm is by his tongue, and you can taste yourself on his lips when he finally comes up for air.

You can’t even think of anything to say to reciprocate his words, your mind is hazy and you’re overcome with the feeling. He doesn’t seem to mind, and the look on his face almost proves how proud he is to be the one who’s the cause of your current state. He’s just so wrapped up in how your body is responding to his every move, he doesn’t care you’re completely speechless. The feeling of it all was just too much to try to attempt vocalizing coherent thoughts.

When he finally pushes himself inside you, it completely takes your breath away. He makes sure to go slow, taking his time and letting you adjust. He also needs to steady himself, because the feeling of you wrapped around him is incredible. It’s perfect, and he wants to take his time, but your so tight and feel so good, and it’s been so long since he’s experienced such an intimacy.

“You’re perfect,” you moan softly at the feeling of how he stretches you.

The compliments that fall from your lips, go right to his head, inflating his ego. His kisses become more frantic, and passionate. His hands shamelessly wander the length of your body, groping at the flesh, wanting to just worship every part of you, to just touch every part of you. His rhythm is slow at first, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer and his mind is frenzied at the sensation. His movements become much more sporadic, chasing his relief as you cry out how close you are as your face rests in the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and bites on his neck, leaving your own marks on him like you were returning the favor.

“Cum inside me, Ezra,” you whisper, nibbling his ear and he groans hearing something only in his dreams manifest in the flesh. “It’s safe.”

He bites his lip and you tug gently on the ends of his hair, a moaning mess under him. The way your face contorts when you orgasm for the second time and the sensation of your release is the final sensation that triggers his own. He collapses on top of you, resting his face in the crook of your neck, whispering again how perfect you are before pulling out and rolling over to lay beside you.

You both are breathing heavily, glistening with sweat and feeling euphoric after coming down from the high. Your chests rise and fall as you both work to catch your breath before either of you speak. It’s a comfortable silence, both of you trying to recover. He looks over to you, and you match his gaze. You roll over onto your stomach and rest your head on his chest, taking a few moments before cleaning up. You rest your arm across his torso and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

Here, in the depths of this dangerous planet, you felt safe in his arms. The excruciatingly long days of physical labor, chasing after promises of riches feel fruitless now more than ever, because the best thing you ever found in the Green had been right next to you the entire time.

General Taglist:

@sassy-kassaay

@letsfly-andbe-free

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wastelandlovingscenarios · 3 years

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Romanced!companions react to their precious fem!sole survivor getting slapped or strikes by an npc right in front of them? Can we categorize this; who would be the violent/threatening/just angry group? >:^0

omg, i’m pretty sure none of them would be remotely calm if that happened... but damn imagine the outcome of that poor npc. they lived a good life. this was a short request while i work on like 7 other ones, LOL.

thank you for requesting and please enjoy!

the next request i’m posting is gonna be a react that turned out a little longer than i expected so buckle up. 🤠

Danse:

violent/threatening

danse would for sure fall under the violent criteria of this situation. he already has one foot in the door once someone dares to go too close to sole, but hit her? that’s a totally different story for another day. that person better be praying to some god out there to give them mercy cause danse knows he won’t. the minute he hears that slap on soles face, it will trigger him to attack without a word. and to answer the question; does danse need a gun to do the job? absolutely not. those muscles are not just for show after all. no matter how many people hold him back, he will always fight his way through the crowd of people and beat the living fuck out of the person, even if they’re begging for him to stop. he won’t even realize the damage he’s done until after and won’t regret it either way, knowing that it was well deserved on their case. now if it was a situation where it was shoving or showing signs of starting a fight with his beloved, he’d step right in front of them and stare them down angrily with the biggest scowl ever. in some cases, that’s more than enough to scare most people off towards the other direction but in a few, he’s forced to threaten them. “i advise you step away unless you desire for this situation to escalate into something that involves solely you and i.” no one will ever be a threat to sole on his watch and he will make sure that nothing will stop him from protecting her.

Deacon:

threatening mixed with violence (depending the intensity of the situation)

deacons nice. he’s really laid back in most situations and is more than willing to let things go if he feels like it’s not worth the trouble. following that, deacons nice to a certain point and if you cross that point? consider yourself on his hitlist for the rest of your life. the intensity of the situation will determine how he’ll react towards it. if the person were to do as simple as shove sole, he’d keep an eye on them and say something within the lines of, “woah, woah, take it easy.” now if it was something like a slap or a punch, he wouldn’t even let it happen, not while he’s around. deacon would have fast enough reflexes to catch their wrist and he’d grip it enough to leave a mark, a displeased expression on his face. he’d even go as far as making jokes with an evil smile, such as, “oops my hand slipped,” or “oh you dropped this,” and proceed to deck the person as hard as he can with his free hand, not caring whether or not he knocks them unconscious. after that incident, he’d constantly terrorize the poor individual, often pulling pranks on them without any breaks. sometimes, he’d even go near them and speak in a happy tone while patting their back in a manner where it seemed a little too friendly.

Maccready:

threatening

mac is aware he’s not muscular nor is he made for fighting, which is why he sticks with guns during most situations. hes a lanky man and gets intimidated a little easier than most people, knowing that many of them could take him down with something as simple as a punch. it’s easier to say he’s more confident with a gun in his hand in these instances. despite his weaknesses, he would not hesitate to step up, knowing that hes unable to control his anger. he’d immediately point the gun at the persons temple and cock it just for intimidation purposes, but knows that he’s more than willing to pull the trigger if he needs to. it benefits him and the commonwealth more than damages it, seeing that this world needs one less asshole living it in, so who is he to care if this person dies or not? he’d slowly press it harder against the persons head, angrily speaking, “back away now.” if the person does so, he’ll gladly let them walk away without an injury and instead tend to sole. he wouldn’t let them go without some snarky comment like, “yeah keep walking and please let the door hit you on the way out.” if they refuse to move away from sole though, he’d gladly take the butt of his gun and smack it against their temple within seconds, completely ignoring the persons body knocked out on the floor. mac would get sole up and out of there as soon as he can, complaining under his breath about how much of that guy was an asshole and how he shouldve shot him.

Hancock:

violent group

consider one thing; that this person who fucked over his lover is beyond dead in his eyes. no one touches his sunshine, and if they dared to? theyll be wishing they hadn’t. hancock can quickly become someone’s friend, but the same can be said if it were an enemy. if he’s willing to stab someone for getting even a little too chummy and touchy with sole, imagine what he’d do if they dared to inflict pain on them. depending on where they are, like a bar for instance, he’d grab a glass bottle and crack it on the guys head, pushing him down on the floor without another word. using his shotgun, he’d make sure he’d put a few bullets through his body before he decides he’s completely satisfied with the new makeover he’s given them. now if he was in a more violent mood and was definitely not having it, he’d want to have their blood on his hands and wouldn’t care if it stained his clothes or not. he wants to send the message to everyone watching that if anyone dares to fucking cross his line, they’re gonna learn it the hard way and he will make it very known how the outcome of the situation will be. for example, he has a knife and what better way to use it than to stab the fuck out of someone for pissing him off? in some cases (depending on the severity of the situation), he’ll shank them in a place where he knows it’ll hurt the most and leave them there to suffer so they’ll get the idea that if they fuck with the people he treasures, they have another thing coming.

Nick Valentine:

mix of threatening and just angry.

honestly, nick is very civil about most cases and he won’t get violent unless absolutely necessary. he will definitely be beyond angry and give the person so much fucking shit for their actions. nick almost never yells but in this case, he’d yell so loud, it would fill up the silence of the room. nick also uses a lot of profanities when doing so, unable to maintain his professional attitude and his usual cool. “now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he’d even go as far as shoving them back, keeping a distance between sole and the person who deemed themselves as a threat to her presence. he’d try to minimize the possibility of violence arising, knowing that both him and sole are not as replaceable as they seem. he’d sneer at the person who striked sole, talking in the most irritated tone possible, “if i wasn’t here controlling her anger, you would’ve been dead on the pavement just a few minutes back, pal. consider yourself lucky that you were spared.” regardless if the person continued talking or not, nick would casually take soles hand and pull her away from the scene as he let out a remark loud enough for them to hear; “we don’t have time for the likes of you anyway, so take your trouble elsewhere.” nick has like zero shame when it comes to back talking or insulting someone he’s not fond of, so you best believe he won’t shut up until you both are out of sight.

Preston:

honestly, just angry.

preston will avoid violence at all costs, considering he doesn’t favor the idea and as much as he hates seeing sole get hurt, he doesn’t want to risk starting another issue. sole has a reputation amongst the commonwealth and the last thing he wants is to taint it or fuck it up, so he lets sole decide whether or not violence should be pursued. also considering that she has more than enough on her plate, he doesn’t want to add on to the list of problems she already has. so unless this guy is literally on the verge of gravely injuring his other half, he won’t do much besides step in front of sole to protect her from any further hits. he’d rather take the hits than to let someone as important as her take them firsthand. he wouldn’t forgive himself if such a thing happened. even if sole did most of the work in the end, he’d still send them the dirtiest look he’s ever given anyone and his hand would already be on the trigger of his laser musket, ready to fire at the guy anytime just in case. before officially leaving the person to do their own thing and bidding them goodbye, he’d get a little up close and personal, talking in the most threatening tone possible (even if he’s not the greatest at it); “once you mess with the general, you mess with the minutemen. i’d suggest you choose your battles a little better next time around.”

Sturges:

just angry

we all know by now sturges is a huge pacifist and will refuse to resort to violence unless he has no absolute choice but to do so. sturges is a very kind man and just like deacon, he’s willing to let most cases go but he respects sole too much to let violent situations like this slide. even if he’s very afraid to get into a violent situation head on, he’ll try to keep it as calm as possible, not wanting to escalate the situation more. being the considerate lover he is, he will ask sole to stay back and keep away from the person as much as possible as he tries to handle the situation himself. even if sturges doesn’t show it, he does get very angry in these instances and will not allow it to happen regardless of the reason. he’ll probably talk to the person with a firm tone and an irate expression but do nothing further than that unless the individual wants blood spilled, which in this case, sole is brought back into the situation. knowing sturges, he’d probably tell the person something like, “hey buddy, i really don’t appreciate what ya just did to my girl. ya need to quit it cause it ain’t right.” or, “if we got a problem, you can always just come to me instead of strikin’ that beautiful lady of mine. i’m willin’ to fix it with ya and if not, then i’m willin’ to take the hit.. though i’m sure my girl wouldn’ appreciate such a motive.” he knew she really wouldn’t. sole would shoot them down before he could let out a soft, “told ya so.”

Gage:

the ceo of violent

even if the raider life consists of injuries, blood, dirty work, and violence, he will never allow sole to get hurt under his watch. even if he tells her to toughen up and get used to it, he truly wants to protect her from the world and anything that could run as a potential hazard. that being said, he doesn’t care who the fuck strikes sole- it could be a man, woman, the highest and most royal person in the planet and it’d still have the same result in the end. gage wouldn’t even give them a chance to explain themselves and would simply let out a small, “oh fuck no, you ain’t.” and shoot them down himself before sole could give him an order. he would take the situation into his own hands with or without soles persmission, knowing that they crossed gages line of comfort. if he’s not satisfied with that or feels as if that’s too much of an easy way out, he’ll shoot their leg and come closer to them to step on their chest to block any chance of escaping. “wanna act tough, huh? show me how tough ya are, why dontcha? be my guest and apologize to the overboss. i’ll let her decide if it’s good enough to let ya go.” if sole were to deny every apology, he’d continue to shoot them limb by limb until he decides to put them down completely. now if sole decides their apology is more than enough, he’ll willfully let them go but let her decide their fate on whether they should be put down or not. in the end, if he had his way with that bastard, they wouldn’t be seeing the light for a long while.

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pearl-pilots-in-chains · 3 years

Text

Come to My Window (All the Little Lights #2)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Asurei

Rating: T

Summary: Rei doesn't like summers much. She usually ends up spending most of her time alone. One afternoon, an open window changes things. Meanwhile, Asuka's unpacking is going great . . . just great. She's just about had enough when she's distracted by the sound of a familiar song.

Notes: It's time for Asurei to Asurock! This is the second part of my All the Little Lights Evangelion high school AU. A slight warning, there's some content in this fic that might be offensive/triggering. I tried to avoid getting too graphic or dark, but there are some clear depictions of depression and bullying, as well as allusions to familial issues. I just wanted to make sure I put a bit of a disclaimer. That being said, I think those parts are important to Rei's character, so I didn't want to leave them out.

The first song Asuka recognizes Rei playing in this fic is "Always With Me, Always With You," by Joe Satriani, and the band shirt Asuka is wearing in this fic is based on the art to the album "Karmacode" by Lacuna Coil.

This was originally posted to my AO3 on May 25, 2020. Hope you enjoy!

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Rei slumped down into the chair, letting her head fall back, her gaze tilting upward, until she was scrutinizing the ceiling. The faux-sky formed on it looked down on her, the painted stars flares of cream and flame that sliced out of the navy base. She thought it was a nice view. It had the power to draw her back, pulling away years to reach innocent memories. She could recall when the sky was first cast onto her ceiling. It had been her father’s idea, and it was his hand that brought it to life. She remembered watching him from her bed, sitting on top of the plastic wrap they had laid down, crinkling the glossy tarp between her fingers. It half-seemed to be a fragment of another world, a remnant of a different life. Now, the mural served as the sole reminder that her father’s presence had once filled her room.

She had thought about asking Shinji to help her paint over the false sky. She knew there was a can of paint in the garage that could match the ceiling’s original shade well enough. She could return it all to a blank canvas. Erase the constellations, fill the vacuum with blinding light. And yet, she never asked. She wasn’t sure Shinji would be willing to help if the request was made. There was a picture on top of his bookcase. It wasn’t in the front. Its frame stood behind one that displayed Shinji and Toji after a track meet, celebrating their respective performances. But it was still there, half in hiding, half revealed. She knew the day it had been taken. December 24, 2000. On the eve of their last Christmas as a quartet. Her memories of that day were nebulous, lost to the childhood haze that the painting day had managed to emerge from. The picture spoke enough to make up for the lack of recollections though.

Her mother was holding Rei in her lap. Rei was looking away from the camera, down at the floor. She looked far wiser, far sadder that a child should. She looked as though she knew too much. Yui was looking up towards the camera, a smile plastered on her face that failed to hide its fraudulent nature. It was took curved, too hooked, too forced. The eyes told the truth. Distant, worried, ashamed. Shinji was sitting by Gendo. He was trying to imitate his father, pressing his face into an amalgamation of the mask the adult wore. It was a shoddy disguise though, as his lips looked seconds away from tremble, and there was water in the corner of his eyes. Gendo wore the true mask. His gaze bored directly into the lens’s eye, staring it down, as though he was willing the time to work correctly through sheer willpower and determination alone. Or, perhaps he was merely compensating. The tinted glasses he normally sported were nowhere to be seen, which left his eyes naked, exposed, without a shield to fume behind. It was possible that the tight, angry smile which ripped through his lips and the needling glare in his iris were designed to make up for this. They had the opposite effect, however. Whereas his traditional spectacles contained and concealed some degree of his emotions, his posturing revealed the true extent of them. His spite, his wrath, his pride, all laid bare.

As a general rule, Rei didn’t keep photos in the same way her brother did. He had a greater appreciation for the physical mementos, the tangible preservation of a moment for posterity. Rei treasured the fleeting nature of seconds, minutes, days. The ephemeral essence of life. The truth that nothing was everlasting, nothing endured. Consequently, there were three pictures in her room. One of her standing by the front door, the day before her first day of elementary school. She looked brave in it. It wasn’t just a front, Rei realized. She had felt brave that day. Time had taught her, however, that there was a thin line between bravery and foolishness.

The second picture showed Shinji and Rei, mouths broken in laughter, dancing through the backyard, Shinji lunging out in an attempt to tap her shoulders. They had been playing hide-and-go-tag, as they referred to it, and he had found her secret spot behind the rose garden. Yui had snapped the shot the moment before Shinji discovered that his sister was faster than he had anticipated, and had ended up face down in the grass after his ill-fated leap.

The last picture was the newest of the three, though now passing the age of six years, another family photo. This one was dated August 16, 2005. The smiles were more genuine, even if they looked more worn. Gendo was over four years absent.

Shinji visited his father. He had since second grade. Sometimes once every other weekend, sometimes once a month, depending on how their schedules worked out. Rei never visited. She hadn’t seen Gendo in person in a decade. She was perfectly fine with her only memories of him being mostly vague, indefinite impressions of youth. They were painful enough as they were. She didn’t want to imagine having concrete memories.

Yui had never made either of them visit him. She never would. She understood while Rei chose not. If anything, she understood better than Rei herself. Rei was truthful unsure why Shinji chose to go. Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of regret, perhaps out of pity, perhaps some combination of the three. Whatever it was, Shinji chose to see his father, and Rei chose not to ask her brother to help remove the last physical trace of their father from her space.

Even beyond Shinji though, Rei felt a reluctance to erase the ceiling, to restore it to its first form. Her mind shied away from the choice, became anxious, and fell silent. Rei knew far, far too much about anxious silences.

She was the “Silent Ikari,” after all. That was one of the names which had been ascribed to her. One of the kinder ones, really. She was never called them to her face, of course. Not that people said much of anything to her face. She supposed that it might be out of respect for her brother, the Ikari most people liked. But they still spoke, in voices loud enough and near enough for her to make their ‘observations’ out. Maybe they thought she was as deaf as she seemed mute. Maybe they just didn’t care if she heard. After all, they could reason that she had no real ‘excuse’ for being withdrawn, closed-off, that ‘emo girl in the corner.’ She just thought she was ‘too good for them.’ The genius who was smart enough to have skipped a grade, who could probably skip another, but ‘just didn’t feel like it.’ The one who all the teachers thought was practically perfect, even if they worried she was ‘a little on the quiet side.’ The one who had a friendly, and moderately popular brother, but was herself too ‘stuck up’ to even bother talking with anyone. And if they didn’t play up that she was cold and arrogant, they played up that something was wrong with her. That she ‘wasn’t all there,’ or had never figured out ‘how to be a human.’ There were words that stung even more, especially when she was younger, when she learned what they meant, but she preferred not to reiterate them in her mind. She didn’t need to give the speakers that power, that lasting blow. All the same, a memory crept into her head unbidden.

It was one of the first times she had sat away from Shinji and his friends. She had felt like a burden to her brother, and she had been tired of always hanging on to him, even if he had never minded. Even if he had wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay. He was smart enough to know her reputation, even if people avoided saying things in front of him. He had gotten into a fight, a real fight, with someone who he had called a friend before it, over a passing comment the friend had made about Rei when he thought Shinji wasn’t paying attention. After that, Rei had decided to give her brother space. She didn’t want to be the weight that he felt bound by. She didn’t want to be the shadow that he felt as though he had to protect. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he had understood and agreed when she had talked to him. If there was one undeniable fact about her brother, it was that he always did his best to empathize, even when it was clearly difficult for him.

She had picked out a table along the fringe of the room to sit at. Somewhere out of the way, to avoid unwanted attention. She hadn’t wanted to be alone. She never had. But by then, it had seemed too late to change the perception of the faces she saw. The disregard, the amusement, the disgust. They had seemed immutable. And so, she hadn’t tried. She had done her best to be invisible. Because it was easier than fighting against a tide than felt overwhelming. She was too afraid of drowning to do otherwise.

She had heard the boy’s conversation with his friends before he approached her. Her hearing had always been above average, and when you heard your name spoken in first cautious, and then careless, tones behind your back, you got used to honing in on it. There had been a dare. A bet as to whether or not he could get a date with the ‘broken girl.’ They had all been at the age where suddenly, exploring previous unknown urges and interests seemed of the upmost importance. Well, most of them had been. She hadn’t. She still wasn’t. Not in the same way, anyhow, or to the same degree. At least, she didn’t think so. They spoke of crushes, and flirting, and love, and sex, like objects on fire, that burned the skin when they were handled, but were worth the flame. She thought of them in muted terms, as though she was touching the same once-scorching objects, but after they had passed beneath a waterfall, the flames all-but vanquished, only the occasional ember remaining. They were safer to hold, to handle, but the appeal, the allure in the danger, was gone, their extinguished state irrevocable.

His stance had been casual as he walked over, but there was a cruel, cocksure glint in his eye. His tone betrayed just what he thought of her, and what he thought of himself. She was an object, a means to an end (the money involved in the bet), and that was all. He was the lad who was going to win the bet, and she should feel lucky to be used for that purpose.

“Hey.” His tone had dripped smooth self-importance, self-exaggeration. “I’m Maximilian.” He had used his full name, not the Max he went by, as though he could make her persuade by the sheer power of possessing what he no doubt thought was an ‘exotic’ name.

“Hello.” Her reply had been quiet, not really timid, though it could have been mistaken for such. Any who had been less caught up in himself would have recognized that it instead bespoke that she had no interest in talking to him, was aware of what he was doing, and want no part of it.

“I’m going to sit here.” It hadn’t been a question, hadn’t been a request, had been a statement, had almost been a command. A command to accept the fact that she was in his presence, and should treat him with the respect his conceited conscience told him he deserved.

She hadn’t said anything in response to that at first. He had taken that as the acceptance he desired, and taken the seat across from her. “So, you’re Rei, right?” The tone was aggressive, as though he was going to dismiss whatever she said, because he was certain he knew who she was. She had imagined that if she said, simply to deny him, he would have ignored it and preceded ahead as though she had said ‘yes.’ He had been the type of boy who could go either one of two ways. On one hand, he could cross too hard of a line earlier enough that he still had a chance to learn how to be something better. On the other hand, he could grow up to be a man who refused to acknowledge refusals, because he felt he has the right to what he wants. The worst kind of person, Rei thought. The kind who thought that others very selves were second to their own desires. Rei wasn’t sure which path he had ended up taking, but she was very glad that they had gone to different high schools, although she felt bad for whoever ended up being the target of his interests there.

Instead of saying ’no,’ or merely staying silent, Rei had cut to the chase. “I don’t want to go out with you. Please leave me alone.”

This had thrown him for a loop. That much had been clear. He had expected her to at least hear him out. His opinion of himself was high enough that he hadn’t even considered outright disregard, the very same treatment he had intended to give her. The result of course, had been that he had become angry. Furious, really, she imagined, though his sheer pride kept him from making a scene, considering he cared too much for his image as the ‘cool guy.’ Instead, he had leaned in, breaking into her bubble, to spit the words in her face. “You don’t know what you’re missing, stupid bitch. It’s not like anyone ever going to ask out a freak like you. The most attention you’ll ever get will be from some white coat in a psych ward.”

She hadn’t flinched. She had known that it would be her downfall if she did. That breaking was what he wanted, her visible suffering was what he was craving in that moment. He had realized she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction after a few seconds, and strolled off, still cocky, but surely fuming internally over the fact that he hadn’t managed to get a reaction out of her. Not a twitch in her lips, a blink in her eyes, something to show that she was shattering beneath the calm exterior. Not that she wasn’t. She just knew how to delay the collapse. It had happened later that day, in the safety and solitude of her room, a silent sort of disintegration. No tears, no screams. Just a widening hollow feeling that consumed her from the pit of her stomach, reaching up into her chest cavity, groping at her lungs, sucking the air into, folding her in on herself until she felt small enough to simply stop existing altogether. It wasn’t an uncommon experience in those days. Before she learned how to grow numb to the words, numb to the spite. That came later though. You had to experience enough pain, enough cover crumbling, to learn how to ignore the barbs that brought it on.

She had never told her brother about that particular incident. She hadn’t wanted him to start another fight on her account. She wasn’t sure if he had ever found out. She guessed it was likely he had, although she wasn’t sure what he had done about it (though she thought it was probable he had done something).

The abuse had never been physical, never public, rarely direct. There had been no retaliation for that incident either. She supposed on all accounts that it was because people were afraid of what her brother might do. Or perhaps not her brother, but more accurately, her brother’s friends. She liked them for the most part. The track team members her brother was close to were an anomaly, in that they were some of few decent people she had ever met in the schools she had attended. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. Knowing that she didn’t have to worry about making her brother choose between his sister and his friends. At least not anymore. He had discarded the ones that had tried to sway him away from the familial choice. She supposed then, that he had already made his decision. She felt guilty for that. She felt guilty often, when it came to her brother, and what she perceived as the difficulties she brought into his life. She knew how much he worried for her. Worried that she was afraid, worried that she was hurting, worried that was lonely.

The most painful part of the guilt was knowing the her brother’s fears weren’t altogether unfounded. No, she supposed, they weren’t unfounded at all. She would characterize her feelings as more anxious than afraid, but the other two concerns she knew he held were accurate. The latter led to the former, in a way. She had discovered there was nothing quite like the feeling of isolation, of division from others, to exacerbate preexisting pain. To make it metastasize, grow into something greater than itself. Seclusion bred sorrowful things when it revealed what was latent.

She had never had her brother’s power with people. He had a natural sort of charisma about him, as awkward as he could be at times. He seemed to draw people to him. More important though, words came easy to him. He could carry a conversation when it dashed against rocks, and somehow bring it out to the far side relatively unscathed. Whether it was a matter of skill, or a matter of luck, social things seemed to turn out positive rather than negative for him more often than not.

Words had never come easy to her. Not when she was talking to someone other than her mother or her brother. She could read cues, interpret signs, and understand context well enough, but there was somehow a disconnect when it came to putting all of that into play when encoding something herself. Ironically, and perhaps appropriately, she couldn’t articulate why. She only knew that it made everything harder. That the persona she conveyed caused people to say she was ‘cold,’ or ‘dead,’ or ‘inhuman.’ Those her knew her well knew this wasn’t the case, but aside from her family, the only people who fell into that category were Shinji’s closest friends, who had spent enough time with him, and by extension, with Rei when she was around, that they read her demeanor differently. She didn’t really have friends of her own, she knew that much. It had been that way since she was a child. She had worried her teachers in kindergarten by the fact that she seemed to turn away all the kids who tried to connect with her. This hadn’t changed, and by the time she headed to junior high, no one tried anymore. The teachers had kept worrying of course, but as she got older, this worry had been offset by their satisfaction and appreciation of her academic performance; apparently, at the end of the day, even elementary school teachers cared more about a child’s grades than her ability to fit into classroom society.

She hadn’t understood it then. Hadn’t understood why her responses, her reactions shut others down. It was only after hearing the covert comments too many times that she had realized what other people thought of her. And by then, the road to remake her reputation had seemed entirely too insurmountable.

That perspective had resulted in her leading a life that was half-spent in sequestration. The silver lining to that, of which she constantly reminded herself, was that she had devoted plenty of time to pursuing her passions, even if it was at a solo capacity. The filled bookcases in her room were one testament to that. The filled folders on her laptop were another, and the guitar resting in its stand by her desk was a third. The lack of company had done wonders for her creativity, she supposed. Was it a worthy exchange though? That was all in the eye of the beholder.

Pulling her gaze away from the ceiling, Rei brought it to rest on the guitar sitting by the desk. The chrome elements of Stratocaster-imitation form glistened in the sunlight from the window above her desk, opened to let the breeze flow in (a partially successful attempt to offset the heat without resorting to blasting the AC, because Rei preferred a more natural solution). She knew it would be at the earliest, four hours before her brother made it home. His shifts had been extended recently, on account of another employee quitting. And of course, her mother wouldn’t be home for at least another hour after that, a timetable that had become the new normal over the past several months. There wasn’t much for her to do in the meantime. Shinji was officially the house chef, because he argued that it was a way for him to ‘destress,’ which was his way of saying that cooking was one of his favorite pastimes, and that he didn’t want anyone else in the kitchen, which he had unofficially declared his ‘dignified domain’ in one of his more emphatic (and comedic) moments.

Rei didn’t particularly like summers, primarily because of how empty they often ended up feeling. This summer had been particularly forlorn one, as with her brother spending nearly all of his time either working or in the company of his new friend Kaworu (she suspected that the her brother and the ashen-hair boy would be dating soon, not that she resented Kaworu; from the two brief interactions she had had with him, he seemed quite nice actually), she had been left to her own devices for days on end. At this point, her routines, as much as she appreciated them, had begun to feel somewhat monotonous. She had taken to browsing blogs lately, in search of a new potentially hobby she could try out to add some diversity to her day, but so far, she hadn’t had much lucky finding anything that she had gravitated toward with any great enthusiasm. She had briefly considered trying out her hand at archery, before swiftly coming to the conclusion that as enticing as her visions of Legolasesque prowess were, the actual effort that would undoubtedly be required to achieve any degree of proficiency wasn’t something she quite felt up to. The fact that even if she did manage to become a competent archer, her chances of being able to skate down a staircase atop a shield would most likely remain negligible was also a bit of a buzzkill. And so, at least for the moment, her current hobbies would have to suffice. She decided that tomorrow, she would take a walk down to Off the Shelf! If she was going to stick with what she knew, it wouldn’t hurt to at least get some new reading material. Well, new to her anyway.

With a barely audible sigh proceeding from her lips, Rei pushed herself up and out of her chair, and left the corner of the room, strolling over to her desk lackadaisically. She retrieved her guitar from its stand and plugged it into her practice amp, positioned alongside the desk. Flipping the amp on and turning the volume to a decent level, satisfied with her other levels. She then set herself down in her desk chair and rolled her volume knob up. She paused for a few seconds, thinking of a good song selection. After a moment, she made her decision.

The first palm muted notes sprung out from the guitar as she picked through the intro, before launching into the melody itself, the pensive tone pervading the room. She allowed the traces of a smile to steal onto her face. It was a beautiful song. One which promise never to leave, never to vanish. One whose titled she liked to think vowed to be with her always. It was a piece she was content to return to. That always seemed to make her day a little less lonely.

Perhaps then, the particular events brought about by her playing that afternoon could only be considered highly appropriate. If one was to take this view, then perhaps it could be called an act of fate, rather than a mere coincidence, that Rei did not think to close her window before she started playing on that particular occasion, something which she habitually did, half out of shyness and doubt of her own talent (unfounded doubt, of course, as anyone who had heard her play could attest to), and part out of respect for her the elderly couple who lived next door, whom she suspected were probably not fans of some of the more ‘enthusiastic’ music she played (which was to say, progressive metal). It would, however, be unfair to Rei to blame her for failing to realize that the elderly couple had moved across the country several months before to live closer to their family. It wasn’t as if she interacted with them frequently, or in fact, paid much attention to them at all. They had kept to themselves, something which she also did. On the other hand, a better case could be made to label Rei a bit on the oblivious side for not noticing the new neighbors who had moved in several days before. That had been a bit more of an affair, though not one which either Yui or Shinji could have been aware of, considering it occurred during the day while they were both absent. Rei, on the other hand, had no such excuse. Her excuse would be, if one were to ask her for it, was that she had been particularly engrossed in rereading one of her favorite books on that specific day, which was in fact true. All the same, it meant that she was unaware of her new neighbors. And furthermore, unaware that one of them would soon hear her playing. And of course, logically, this also meant she was unaware that her life was about to change. However, a lack of awareness rarely averts something from happening, and it certainly did not in this case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka glared down at the figurine in her hands, scowling. “Dammit,” she grumbled to herself, pulling away the now-severed head from the body of the dragon, and inspecting the jagged break. She spared a glance at the unraveled square of bubble wrap in the box below. “Well that’s just great.” With a sigh and a shake of her head, she set the broken figurine down on top of the bookcase. “I’ll have to fix you later. Gotta ask Misato if we have any glue, or if it’s lost in one of the boxes out in the garage.” She scowled, and turned back to sorting through the contents of the box. She extracted two more figurines from her their bubble wrap entombments, and was pleased to see that her cobra and sorceress were both still intact. Setting them on the shelf beside the beheaded dragon, she grab one of the discarded pieces of bubble wrap and held it up to the light coming through her window. “I guess you didn’t totally fail,” she remarked dryly, before crumpling the strip in her hand and listening to the series of satisfying pops that occurred as a result.

Tossing the now-pointless piece of plastic into the trash bin by her door, she set her hands on her hips and surveyed the pile of boxes that had yet to be unpacked, a hoard still big enough to lay claim to an entire corner of the room with a vengeance. What next? She ran her eyes over the bare walls of the room, finding the off-white coloration unappealing, to say the least. When was this designed? The 80s? Posters it is.

While she now had a goal in mind for the next step in her unboxing/room design (she preferred the latter description, because it sounded more dignified in her mind, and didn’t serve as quite the same reminder that she had just moved, but in all reality, the former was the more accurate description), finding the objects she needed to accomplish that goal was easier said than done. Opening yet another box, and discovering once again that the objects of her intentions were not within (said box instead contained several stacks of CDs, relics of a time before MP3s were the absolute norm), she set it atop the growing pile of boxes that had failed to contain her quarry, with a derisive glance at the blurred face of Avril Lavigne that stared back at her from within. “Why do I even still have you?,” she muttered as she folded the lid back over. And more importantly, why the hell didn’t we label more of these? I blame Kaji. Because yeah, the person who basically didn’t pack up any of my stuff is to blame for why I didn’t label it. Right.

With a roll of her eyes (mostly directed at herself, if she was being honest), she grabbed one more box from the trove. If they’re not in here, I’m taking a break. This is so stupid. As she opened this particular box, she was at that point not surprised to find that rather than the posters she sought, it instead contained two tight rows of game cases. Well, at least I found something decent. Box in hand, she made for the living room. I’m pretty sure Misato left the bottom shelf of the tv stand empty for these.

She was partway through the process of shelving the games when she felt her pocket vibrate. Pausing her activity, she pulled out her phone and looked over the text that had just arrived.

Tiffany H: How’s day four of the move-in going?

Asuka considered the question for a moment, before writing her response.

Asuka R: About as well as the first three lol.

Asuka R: As in, tedious

Asuka R: How’s life in Terahburg?

Tiffany H: Oh, fun. Same as always, tbh.

Asuka R: Aww, and here I thought you’d be sweet and say it was boring without me or something ;)

Tiffany H: Oh, I mean, you’re right! Whatever will we do? Life’s lost all purpose now that you’re gone xD

Asuka R: Now that’s more like it!

Tiffany H: We’re all lost without you Asuka! We’ll never see the light again without you!

Asuka R: And don’t you forget it!

Tiffany H: In fact, the entire town might perish out of sheer sorrow! Our lives our meaningless now!

Asuka R: Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. . .

Tiffany H: Ya think? Lol

Asuka R: Hey, don’t stop on my account!

Tiffany H: I’m running out of material here *shrugs*

Asuka R: And here I thought you were a true thespian!

Tiffany H: Yeah, but talking about you gets boring after a while. ;)

Asuka R: I’m hurt. Deeply hurt. *turns nose up*

Tiffany H: There, there, you’ll survive. Just don’t drink the Asherdale kool-aid and forget we exist. Lol

Asuka R: Asherdale kool-aid? Seriously?

Tiffany H: Like I said, I’m running out of material here. Don’t @ me.

Asuka R: Uh huh

Asuka R: Right

Tiffany H: So, what’s the ‘dale like? We got any competition?

Asuka R: I’ll let you know when I figure out what the ’the ‘dale’ is

Tiffany H: Ur 1mp0ssebl3

Asuka R: My eyes are scarred now, thx

Tiffany H: You deserved it. So, what’s the ‘dale like?

Asuka R: Best adjective = boring

Tiffany H: RIP

Asuka R: No competition so far, so you don’t need to worry. The best they have going for them is an

arcade.

Tiffany H: An arcade?

Asuka R: Yeah, I saw it when we were getting into town. Looked it up, it’s some sort of retro deal.

Tiffany H: Retro arcades? Is that a thing now?

Asuka R: Apparently it is in the northwest.

Tiffany H: Whelp, sounds great

Asuka R: Oh yeah, fr

Tiffany H: Well, enjoy ur arcade. I gtg get ready for work.

Asuka R: Ok, say hi to Amanda for me!

Tiffany H: Will do! Ttyl!

When she had finished shelving the games, Asuka made her way back to her room, a determined glint in her eyes (not an unusual expression for her). Alright, now it’s poster time! I don’t care if I have to go through every damn box in that corner, I am finding them! I’m not going to let an outdated 80s color palate get the best of me! And plus, her mind added as an afterthought, Once they’re up, maybe it’ll actually start feeling a little more like my room. And less like someone else’s room, that I’m just staying in. A frown briefly crossed her face, but she tossed it away, steeling her mouth into a resolute line.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, the stack of boxes was no longer a stack, but instead a small pond spread across half of the room. Asuka, meanwhile, was red in the face, and looked as though she was a few steps away from steam vents cartoonishly bursting out of her ears. One final, unopened box sat in the corner, the last remnant of the toppled tower. She knelt by it, her face spelling murder, and began to cut through the tape with her pocket knife. . .

“Verdammt, wo sind sie?! Das ist lächerlich!” (Dammit, where are they?! This is ridiculous!)

She punched floor next to her, gritting her teeth as she looked down at the contents of the last box, namely a set of drum skins, and her stick bag. Still glowering, she removed these items and headed to the spare room. Might as well put these with my kit anyway. She couldn’t deny that one positive of this house was the presence of the extra bedroom, which meant that her designated practice space was no longer a garage. That was definitely a positive. Even if it one of the only ones so far.

Setting the sticks down by her stool and the drum skins alongside her drum cases in the corner, she looked over at the kit with a degree of temptation in her eyes. I should probably at least try to finish unpacking, now that I covered my entire room. But . . . I mean, it could help me calm down. And ignore the fact that we probably forgot the box with my posters somewhere. Walking over, she took her seat behind the kit and grabbed a couple sticks from the sling that hung off the floor tom. Just something to blow off steam. I don’t need to practice a song or anything. She was about to count herself off (out of habit rather than necessity, really), when an adventitious sound reached her ears. She blinked, pausing. That sounds . . . oddly like “Always With Me, Always With You.” She looked around, searching for the source of the faint guitar playing she had picked up. Her eyes locked in on the window behind her, which until that moment, she hadn’t noticed was partially open. Rising from her seat and dropping her sticks back into the sling bag, she walked over to the window and looked out.

This particular window looked down on the strip of the yard which ran alongside the building, and faced the house next door. She couldn’t be certain, but it sounded to her as though the music was coming out of one the windows of that house, which also happened to be opened. Her interest piqued, she decidedly to get a closer look. She headed for the stairs.

Emerging out into the backyard, she made for the wall that marked the border between her family’s yard, and the neighbor’s property. It wasn’t much of a wall, really. It only reached slightly higher than her midriff. She looked down at it skeptically. Well, I could practically step over this is if I wanted to. Guess they’re not too worried about trespassing.

Outside and closer to the guitar playing which floated out into the air, it was relatively easy to determine that its source was indeed the window she had identified earlier. Glancing up toward said window now, Asuka pursed her lips, faced with a bit of a decision. One one hand, she could forget about it and head back inside. She had determined the location of the unseen guitarist, and considering he or she was her neighbor, it seemed like there was a decent chance she’d be able to find out who the guitarist was eventually. On the other hand, going back in and continuing with her unpacking wasn’t the most enticing of options. In the end, she chose the path that let her procrastinate on facing her bedroom’s recently introduced ground cover.

Climbing up over the half-wall, she jumped down into the neighbors’ yard. She decided that if she ran in to any sort of trouble, or said neighbors turned out to be less than thrilled by her trespassing, she could book it back to her house with relative ease. It wasn’t as if the wall would provide any significant barrier. Plus, it’s not as though I’m going to try to break into their house or anything. I mean, I’m going to go ring the doorbell. Though I suppose I could have just gone out to the street from my house and gone over that way. Oh well. This’ll be fine.

Still listening to the solo (which, as she heard more of it and paid greater attention, she had to admit sounded quite good) rolling down from the open window, Asuka walked up along the side of the house, and curved around to the front until she found herself standing directly in front of the door. Alright, here we go. Plan ‘avoid unpacking’ #1, activate! Reaching up, she pressed in the doorbell and waited. She heard a bell-toweresque recording play from somewhere close by the door inside in response to the ring. That’s an interesting choice for a doorbell. Sounds sort of like an antique clock. That might not be a good sign . . . I can’t imagine anyone under the age of fifty using that for their doorbell. Oh well. If it turns out the guitarist is a retiree or something, I can always still act polite or something, say I thought his or her playing sounded pretty good, and then bail. Simple enough.

Asuka waited for a good thirty seconds, wondering if someone was going to come to the door. After a few more moments, she decided that the answer to that question was probably a definitive ‘no.’ Hmm . . . now the question is, do I ring the doorbell again? Or do I just head back home? On one hand, they might have heard it and just don’t want to answer, and in that case, I don’t want to be the jerk who can’t take a hint. On the other hand, maybe they just didn’t hear it the first time. That’s a possibility too. Which means it might not hurt to wring it again. Asuka pulled out her phone and looked down at the clock on the lock screening, waiting for it to change. I’ll give them another minute. If no one comes by then, I’ll ring it one more time. And if no one shows up after that too, I’ll head back to my place.

Watching the digits on the screen, Asuka gave a small nod to herself as the moment passed. She reached forward and gave the doorbell a final ring. Once again, she heard the recording play from within the house. You know, I think I’d get pretty tired of that if it was my doorbell. Just imagine what that would be like if someone tried to prank you by ringing it repeatedly. That would get real annoying, real quick.

After another solid twenty seconds or so, Asuka came to the conclusion that no one was coming to the door. Shrugging, she turned and headed back out toward the sidewalk, content to make her way home. Well, I tried. Guess I’ll find out who the guitarist is another day. Unboxing time it is then. Lovely. However, as she turned away from the path up to the door and angled herself back toward her resident, she heard the faint sound of the guitar carrying out from alongside the house. This time, however, it was a different song. She paused, narrowing her eyes in focus as she searched for the title. Oh, come on, I know I know this one. It’s not Satriani though . . . I don’t think it’s Vai either. Dammit, who is it? She shook her head, disgruntled with the fact that she couldn’t place the tune. Fantastic. Now that’s going to be stuck in my head and bugging me for the rest of the day. Presque vu sucks like that. It was at that instant that another thought snuck into her mind. The guitarist could be the only person home. That would explain why no one came to the door. If they’re practicing, they might have earbuds in or headphones on, which would mean they couldn’t hear me. So, I’d have to get their attention with something else. And their window is open . . .

Asuka practically sprinted the short distance back to her house, a confident grin across her face. When she finally emerged from the back door roughly five minutes later, she was glad to hear that the mysterious musician was still playing. Once again, the guitarist had moved on to a new song. This one, however, Asuka recognized. “Tender Surrender,” she murmured. “Not a bad choice.” At this point, Asuka was almost certain that whoever was playing was probably a good bit older than her. I mean, seriously, Steve Vai hasn’t been big since the nineties. At least, I don’t think so. I mean, I only know him because of Kaji, so that definitely says something. But hey, I’m not a guitarist though, so who knows? Maybe they still adore him or something. All the same, her desire to avoid completing (or at the very least, returning to) her unpacking process outweighed her potential concerns. Plus, her new plan kept her even further away from the person whose attention she was trying to get. Which meant that if they didn’t care for her methods, she could be long gone before they could do much about it. The logic of her strategy was moderately convincing, if she did say so herself, even if it was purely designed to give her a somewhat rational justification to her better judgment for her own procrastination.

Pulling herself up and over the sad excuse for a dividing wall, Asuka found herself in the as-of-yet-nameless neighbors’ yard once again. She strolled over a little closer to the house, positioning herself so that she was in a direct line with the open window. I have to say, this is one way I never expected that year I pitched for the softball team in middle school to come in handy. She looked down at the construction in her hand, the centerpiece of her quickly-concocted scheme. Guess all of that packing newspaper might turn out to have a second purpose too. Hopefully it’ll do better at this than it did at keeping Misato’s shot glass collection intact. With a chuckle to herself, Asuka rolled her arm back, lifting the paper airplane into the air, and let it fly toward her target. It soared upward, its arc accurate, and slipped straight through the open window, disappearing from her view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei was nearing the close of the song. Her plectrum had been relegated to a secondary position, pinched between her pinky and ring fingers, to keep it from obstructing her fingerpicking. Only the pads of her skin now met the coils of steel, coaxing melody from the taut metal. Though the piece was not an anthemic one at any point, never attaining any great summit or volume in its course, it had still diminished from its peak, drifting back into itself as the notes grew more wavering, less forceful. They now resembled soft, intermittent tears intermingled with trembling gasps, though whether these expressions were borne out of sorrow or ecstasy was a mystery offered up to the beholder’s mind for judgement.

In her mind, Rei could hear, could feel the presence of the band about her. Every feature, each individual auditory fragment of the track came to her as she moved her fingers, by memory rather than sight. She listened as the band’s accompaniment slowly gave way, dissolving into pleasant stillness, sending its light and focus toward the guitar’s shuddering cry, until it was the only sound left to fill the emptiness, in soundscape both physical and mental. But fill this space it did nonetheless, each caressed, drawn note wandering through the fold’s of her shut eyes, dancing over the defined, stringent edges of her desk and shaving them down into something smoother, unbroken, winding. Blurring the room she half-saw through the image she conceived, transfiguring the elements of the space to abstraction, melting the absolute and the tangible into the fantastical, the speculative.

As she glided into the final phrase, she slowed even further, elongating the notes, letting their voices sing louder than her conducting digits. She had led the song to its conclusion, she let the song itself lead what was left. It extended, sweeping over the growing seconds, echoing as it reiterated, reprising and refusing to fade. Rei followed the draw, her fingers seemingly moving of a will other than her own, glad assistants in the art. At last, the final reverberation arrived, pleading, yet peaceful. There were seven notes left, which dwindled to six, and from there it faded to five, a receding handful.

The fifth note was about to declare its presence when the moment was broken. Something struck Rei’s forehead, fracturing her concentration and dream state alike to shards. Her fingers fell from their unconscious ballet, the necessary pressure absent. The string buzzed against the fret before it died an abrupt dead, cut off by its impact against her lax digit. The song was stripped into nothing, the ending cumbersome and unheeding, true closer beyond its grasp. Rei’s eyes tore open as her hand plunged away from the neck, dropping limp to her side as she stared sightlessly at the desk before her, her blank visage betraying no hint of her acute bemusement.

Rei dropped her pick onto the top of the desk, and lifted the instrument from her lap, returning it to its stand once more. Slanting her head downward, she reached out and retrieved the ostensibly offending object from the floor by her feet. Lifting it into her lap, she rotated it around in her grasp for a few moments, examining the shaped newsprint, complied into a new structure, a form capable of flight synthesized from ink and pulped fibers. Adjacent to weightless, an insubstantial avian, an artificial imitation. Its name was derived from bellowing metallic brutes that claimed the skies as their domain, raging turbines thrumming, incensed engines clamoring, the bellow of war on their wings and a cold caterwaul in their grinding wheels as they wrenched away from the ground and took their place in the belly of the beast. Such a marked difference, an undeniable dichotomy, between this tenuous newspaper lark and those titanium pterosaurs that prowled the clouds at humanity’s behest. To think that both such beings were constructed and christened by the same species was a perplexing, confounding concept, one which spoke to the multitudinous nature of sentience. It could give attention no less assiduous than the sedulous scrutiny bestowed upon the architecture of alleged advancement to the most minute of pursuits. The value of each undertaking determined by the engineers, by the consumers, by whatever society observed its progress.

It was curious, the capacity which such a seemingly innocuous, inconsequential object possessed to act as a conduit for contemplations of the existential and philosophical varieties. Nevertheless, Rei pulled her thoughts away from such metaphysical meanderings and extracted her eyes from their glazed gaze, elevating them from the errant examination. Equally curious were the origins of the airplane. Her emphasis adjusted accordingly, Rei rested the newsprint coated craft on her desktop and rose from her seat to survey the yard from her window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asuka watched the empty window closed, scrutinizing the vacuum that had devoured her airplane several moments earlier. It showed no signs of providing any sort of reaction to that consumption. However, Asuka was nonetheless certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that her newspaper agent had fulfilled its intended purpose. Moments before, the song, which had crawled to a languid and hazy, yet subtly rapturous, finale, had come to a clipped conclusion. There was no mistaking that the ending was unintentional. The last note had been mostly-dead, the tone dulled and buzzed out, a quickly recognizable accident, that had been replaced by silence in an instant, the bum note sheared from existence before it could linger. That . . . was rough. Ooops. Well, hopefully they don’t get too annoyed.

At first, Asuka had expected that the guitarist would take one of two routes. On one hand, the musician might immediately make an appearance, due to the sudden interruption, and apparent derailment of the song. This had seemed to be the most probable outcome to Asuka. After all, most musicians didn’t appreciate being disrupted while they were in the midst of a piece. On the other hand, the guitarist might first finish the song, and then come to the window. Though the second possible outcome seemed somewhat less likely than the first, Asuka knew that there were many individuals who took their musicianship seriously to the extent that they would merely continue onward as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, until they finished their performance. Of course, given that the guitarist was practicing rather than performing, Asuka didn’t expect that this would be the case.

This was all to say that Asuka was not prepared for the reaction occasioned by her action. Or, to be more precise, the lack thereof. Asuka had firmly expected the guitarist to do something. Which was why she grew progressively more and more agitated, albeit it in an understated manner, as the seconds flew by and it appeared as though her ‘delivery’ had prompted positively no response whatsoever. No one appeared at the window, nor did the playing resume, and furthermore, there was not so much as the slightest audible outburst in response to the disruption. Aside from the botched note and the vexatious silence, there was nothing to indicate that the guitarist had even noticed the paper aircraft.

Asuka tilted her head as she continued to stare up at the window, her cheeks and lips creasing downward into the beginning of a frown. Come on, do something. Or are you actually going to just ignore that? Of course, there was no answer to this question, given that Asuka had inquired it of her own mind, rather than posing it out loud. The stillness stretched longer, no termination in sight. Asuka rested a hand against her hip, before dropping it back to her side. That might send the wrong sorta message when they finally decide to show up. If they decide to show up. Asuka’s frown had now passed its infancy, maturing into a full-blown line of irritation. Which is looking less and less likely. A measure of tension had filled the air, as anticipation of a reaction had turned to exasperation, and perhaps a portion of perturbation as well. The tension gave no indication that it had any intention of abating prior to Asuka’s departure. Well that’s just great. Dammit, I guess it’s back to my lovely, most definitely not covered in a mound of boxes room. Fantastic. Rolling her eyes, Asuka half-turned to withdraw, when a figure suddenly appeared in the window. Asuka hastily righted herself as her gaze locked in on the arrival. Took you long enough.

The person looking out of the window was not who Asuka had been expecting. The figure’s blue locks glistened vaguely in the sunlight as it touched them. Her eyes were dark, a rich, bark-like brown, the hue of tilled soiled moistened by a smattering of a rain. They practically gleamed with racing thoughts, deep pools of incalculable deliberation. It was the overall aura of her face, however, that knocked Asuka from her stride. It was expressionless, utterly unreadable, beyond the definitive certainty that the mind behind worked tirelessly and furiously. Asuka could discern no trace, however slight, of any sentiment or emotion in it. The emptiness, the absence, was uncanny. Asuka’s mind raced as well now, seeking an explanation for the void she beheld. Maybe I’m just too far away. After all, I’m a good distance from where she is. Maybe if we were closer, I’d be able to tell . . . something. Her attempts at persuading herself that this was a reasonable explanation failed miserably. The argument was woefully, blatantly incorrect. There was no denying the simple fact that the girl’s face, despite the fact that it appeared as if she was no older than Asuka, perhaps even younger, could have easily belonged to someone who spent years perfecting the perfect vizard. Somehow, I get the feeling that she’s never lost a poker game.

The duo’s encounter began in silence, both parties merely taking in the other, no words exchanged. Asuka did her best to hide her own feelings of confusion, as well as residual irritation. Can’t match her poker face, but I might as well try to not look too worked up. When the silence had lasted long enough to become uncomfortable, especially when combined with the force of the girl’s undeviating gaze, Asuka decided she would have to break it, as it didn’t seem feasible that the supposed guitarist would be the one to do so.

“Hey, you sounded good!,” Asuka called up, doing her best to sound both amicable and positive, in spite of the fact that these weren’t the foremost sentiments in her mind.

The girl said nothing in response, though Asuka briefly thought she spotted the barest, vaguest hint of a smile alight on the edges of the girl’s mouth for a split second. Well, no news is good news, right? And who doesn’t like a compliment? Guess I might have to do the heavy lifting in the conversation though. “That was Tender Surrender, right?”

The girl remained silent, but gave a small nod of her head, her expression unchanged. Asuka decided she would interpret this as an encouraging reaction. I mean, she doesn’t seem angry that I disrupted her earlier, so all things considered, I’m going to take this as a success so far. “Steve Vai is pretty cool. Classic 80s guitar, you know?”

The girl nodded again, blinking as she did so, before resuming her stare. Is that the first time I’ve seen her blink?, Asuka wondered. Because I think it is, and that’s more than a little bit unnerving. Because I’m almost positive she’s been staring at me for a couple minutes. No way, she must have blinked earlier. People don’t go minutes without blinking. That would be . . . unusual . . . and most likely not healthy for your eyes.

Asuka decided to try out a different subject. There’s got to be something that will get her to talk . . . right? Maybe? Hopefully . . . ?

“Anyway, I heard you earlier, and I wanted to see who the good guitarist was.” She bookended this with an agreeable chuckle, that was roughly eighty-five percent forced. “I’m Asuka Kaji. I just moved in to the house next door,” she pointed back over her her shoulder, “a few days ago.”

The girl tilted her head as she received this information, giving Asuka the impression that this was in fact new to her, and she was taking some time to process it. A few more seconds passed, and at last, the girl spoke. “I’m Rei Ikari,” she paused, and then added, “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but carried down from the window fairly well all the same. It had a calmness to it, that matched up perfectly with her reserved demeanor. It was nearly a monotone, but not quite. There was a note of inflection in it, an element of what Asuka thought was cheerfulness, though it was difficult for her to be certain.

This time, Asuka was the one who tilted her head. Well, at least I got her name. Not sure why she’s thanking me though. “What for?,” she inquired, maintaining her amicable exterior, which was somewhat less forced than it had been several seconds earlier. Perhaps only seventy-five percent at this point, possibly even seventy.

Rei answered in the same voice, devoid of all but a hint of pleasantry. “For the compliment. I’m glad you like my playing.” Asuka hung on to that hint of pleasantry, decoding it to mean that Ikari was genuinely happy. At least, I hope that’s what it means. Although, she could just be putting on a front just like me. I’ll say she’s genuine for now though. It’s easier to be friendly when I don’t have to constantly second guess the other person.

Asuka smiled again, an expression which was mostly real. “No problem. Like I said, you sounded good.”

Rei nodded to this, but didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, she looked down, at something obscured from Asuka’s sight, and then back up at the other girl. “Would you like to come to the door? You won’t have to shout up from there?”

Asuka wasn’t quite sure that the volume she had been speaking at could be deemed shouting per se, but in comparison to Ikari’s subdued volume, she supposed she could see the logic in the other girl’s words. “Sure. Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Rei intoned, not deviating in the slightest from what appeared to be her default voice. Stepping away from the window, she disappeared from Asuka’s view. Asuka set off along the side of the house, making for the front door, considering their conversation so far as she did so. Okay, saying ‘default voice’ might be a bit harsh. Makes it sound like she’s a robot or something. I don’t think she’s AI. I mean, probably not. She allowed herself a quiet little chortle as she rounded the corner and strolled over to the porch. She paused in front of the door. Guess I don’t need to ring the doorbell. Which means I get to avoid the antique clock. Or bell tower. Whichever one it sounds like. Probably both. Either way, not hearing it is a positive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door in front of her opening. Rei halted in the doorway, looking at Asuka. Up close, Asuka couldn’t discern any substantial differences from what she had already observed of Rei’s demeanor. However, the hints of a smile which she thought she had spotted earlier were more pronounced now that Asuka had a better view, making Ikari look moderately more genial to Asuka’s eyes. Huh, maybe I was right. She’s more friendly when I’m not looking up at her framed in a window. And I thought that argument was absurd. Even though it was my argument. Ha! Shows what you know, me!

Asuka smiled back at Rei, the most genuine one she had offered Ikari so far. Abruptly, Rei held out a hand toward Asuka. She looked down, and her smile fell a bit. The blue-haired girl was holding out the paper airplane to her. “Is this yours?,” she asked, giving no signs that she was angry, which threw Asuka off once again. Alright, maybe she’s just at good at hiding when she’s upset as she seems to be at hiding when she’s happy. Then again . . . I don’t see anything. Not in her face, or her posture. And she still smiling. Well, if that’s what that is, I mean. Maybe I didn’t actually disrupt her? Maybe she just messed up on her own? Or maybe she really doesn’t care?

Asuka nodded slowly, assuming an empathetic expression, less cheerful and slightly more chagrined. Just slightly, however. She wasn’t one to act particular embarrassed, even if she was. Not that she “Yeah, that’s mine. Sorry if I threw you off, by the way.”

Rei extended her hand a little further, offering the miniature parody of an aircraft to the redhead. “It’s okay. I was nearing the song’s conclusion anyway.”

Asuka accepted the offered airplane. “You sure?”

Rei nodded. “Yes. Your technique isn’t bad.”

Once again, Rei managed to say something that Asuka was not anticipating. My technique? Where did that come from? This is kind of getting on my nerves. A little bit, anyway Who just randomly switches topic mid-conversation like that? “What technique?”

“Your folding technique. It’s effective. Do you make origami?”

Oh. That is not what I expected her to say. “Ah, okay. Thanks. But no, I don’t.” I mean, technically I have, but I don’t need to tell her about how great that went. Damn cat. Since when do cats eat paper anyway? When did that become a thing? And to think people say dogs are the ones who will eat anything.

“I think you’d be good at it if you tried,” Rei said sensibly.

“I’ll let you know if I ever try it out.”

Rei nodded, her faint smile becoming somewhat more defined, as if this was the most logical and appropriate response, and she appreciated that Asuka had used it. Asuka decided it was time for her to get in another question, before the conversation took an additional unpredictable turn. “So, do you go to Sarea High?” Might as well figure out if she’ll be going to the same school as me in the fall. It wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to know some people before I get there.

Rei only nodded again in answer to this question.

“Cool. I’ll be going there in the fall. You a,” she made a quick estimate of how old she thought Ikari looked to be, “junior?”

Rei shook her head. “I’m a senior.”

Well, I was only off by a year, that’s not too bad. “Me too.” You know, for expecting the mystery guitarist to be some guy in his forties, it turns out we have a lot more in common than I thought.

Rei didn’t respond to this information, but merely continued to look at Asuka, her head tilting slightly to the side, the smile on her face seeming more prominent than ever, though still more of a light impression than a defined expression. Asuka met the girl’s gaze for a moment, and matched the bluenette’s smile with a wider one of her own. I mean . . . she’s kind of unusual, but she doesn’t seem so bad. Could definitely do with talking a bit more, but whatever. “Are you in band?”

Rei shook her head. “No. I’d like to be in jazz ensemble though.”

Asuka grinned, and remarked, “I mean, from how you sounded earlier, I’m sure you could tackle jazz. Plus, it’s fun for guitarists!” Is it my imagination, or is that a tiny tint of blush I see on her cheeks right now.

“Thank you. Again,” Rei said softly. “I haven’t auditioned though.”

Asuka’s smile faltered, and she pursed her lips. “Why not?”

The imprint of a smile and the vague reddening slipping from her face, Rei shrugged. “Nerves, I guess,” she answered.

“Ah. I understand.” I’ve been there. Who hasn’t? But hell, she’s definitely good enough to make the cut! Especially in a town like this. I highly doubt they have a great jazz scene here or anything. Asuka paused, but then set off again, more animated, “Well hey, you should audition this fall! I’m going to be there! So there’ll for sure be someone else there who knows you’re a fantastic guitar!”

The mild coloring that Asuka suspected was a blush most definitely returned to Rei’s face with this comment. Without meeting Asuka’s gaze, a strange change from her pattern up to that point, she replied, “Maybe so.”

“Well, think about it at least.”

Rei nodded, and after another handful of seconds had elapsed, asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“I play drums,” Asuka answered.

Rei looked back to Asuka once more, her indistinct smile back on her face. “Are you going to do marching band?”

Asuka shook her head. “No, I prefer playing with a full kit. That’s why I’m going for jazz ensemble instead. It’s what I did at my old school back east in Terahburg.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yep,” Asuka stated smartly. A new idea had emerged in her mind, one which didn’t seem like a half bad one. “You know, we should jam together sometime. Since we’re literally next door to each other.”

Rei said nothing at first, but Asuka noticed that the blue-haired girl’s eyes looked more distant now, practically looking straight past Asuka. She was tempted to turn around, to see if there was something behind her worthy of attention, but she somehow doubted there was. She’s probably just appraising the idea. She seems like the type of person who thinks things over. Thinks things over intensely, to be precise.

When the space between the two girls had lapsed into silence for approximately thirty seconds, Rei spoke up. “What type of music do you like?”

Asuka gave a small shrug in response to this. “The short answer is, I like a lot of stuff. I’m open to pretty much anything. And the long answer is, well, long.” She let out a little laugh to accompany her quip. “But, you might be able to tell,” she shot a pointed glance down at her shirt, which featured an image of a man removing his face from his skull to reveal a bundle of bandages beneath it, an action which was surprisingly depicted in a manner that wasn’t particularly gruesome (which she personally thought a rather unusual choice for a gothic metal album cover, but she enjoyed the art nonetheless, a fact evidence by her possession of the shirt), “I like metal.”

Rei’s eyes followed Asuka’s indication, and studied her garment, taking in the image. “That is interesting,” she commented, giving no real suggestion of her actual opinion of the artwork. “However, I’m not familiar with Lacuna Coil.”

Asuka curled her lips into a wry half-smile. “Not enough people are. They’re pretty awesome though. If you like gothic metal, that is.”

Rei nodded gently, in a manner that came across as fairly noncommittal. “I’ll have to check them out.” Her tone didn’t particularly evince true interest either, thought Asuka couldn’t say that it suggested the opposite for that matter. It fell in line with almost all of Rei’s speech, in that it was nothing if not neutral and more than a little ambiguous. I guess you could call it balanced. It could go equally toward either side.

“So,” Asuka began, “What about you?”

“As in, what type of music do I like?,” Rei countered, seeking clarification.

“Yep.”

“I enjoy instrumental music. Especially when the guitar is the main focus.”

“I get ya, that makes sense,” Asuka remarked with a nod .

“But, I am open to many types of music as well,” Rei added.

“That always cool. Variety keeps things entertaining.”

“Indeed,” Rei agreed, though her voice showed no particular enthusiasm. The sentiment more closely resembled an acknowledgement of a basic principle that could only be recognized as a fact of life, rather than an identification with a specific, shared perspective. After this observation, she fell silent once more. Asuka tilted her head to the side, waiting for the other girl to continue, but she did not seem eager to break the silence which had descended. Well, she basically avoided that question. Or at least, she avoided giving a direct answer to it. I could press the issue, or save it for another time. Oh come on, I’m not one to save things for another time. She doesn’t seem to mind me too much so far. I’m gonna roll with that.

Asuka decided to reiterate her point. “So, what do ya think?”

“About what?,” Rei asked, her eyes twitching momentarily.

“About playing together sometime?”

Rei tilted her head to the side, before righting it and nodding. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah,” Rei concurred, the smallest vestige of excitement briefly filling her voice. Asuka picked up on the alteration, as quickly as it passed. That sounded encouraging!

“Well, hey, let me give you my number, so you can get in touch with me when you want to. That work for you?

“Okay.” Rei extracted her phone from her pocket, a movement which Asuka mirrored.

It was when she glanced down at her phone that Asuka noted the time. Her eyes widened for a brief second. Crap! It’s that late already! Seriously, I’ve been here that long? I probably need to actually try to finish unpacking at least some of those boxes today. If only so I can move across my room without climbing on top of them. Oh well . . . all good procrastination has to end eventually.

Rei cradled her phone in her hands for a few moments. Asuka got the impression that Rei was a little hesitant (for whatever reason) to hand it over for Asuka to put in her number. Selecting a different strategy, Asuka opened her contact profile and held the phone out for Rei to see. “Here, you can just copy off of that. If you don’t want me to put my number in yours, I mean.”

Rei looked at the offered device for another moment or two, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Rei inspected the displayed information for a moment, and then quickly typed something into her phone. “Got it,” she announced.

“Awesome.” Asuka withdrew her phone and slid it back into her pocket. “Look, I gotta bounce. I still have lots of unpacking left to do.” She grinned and chuckled. “My room looks like a minor tornado or something tore threw it. So that’s fun.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Rei responded quietly, but the expression on her face gave the words weight. The impression of a smile that had lingered there for much of the conversation at the door had finally blossomed into something which could be firmly identified as a smile, even if it was a small, uncertain one.

“You too!,” Asuka agreed cheerily. Alright, now the question is, what will she interpret as a proper goodbye? This question proved unnecessary, as Rei gave Asuka another small nod, and then retreated into the house, closing the door behind her, in a startlingly swift burst of activity. Asuka blinked, shrugged mentally, and turned to go, trotting back out to the sidewalk.

Well, all things considered, I’d say that counts as an utter victory. Mystery guitarist turned out to be both under the age of thirty, and overall, pretty likable, at least, I think so. Not to mention I have someone to practice with already, and I’ve only been here a few days. And she lives next door. That’s a pretty great coincidence, I can’t lie. And best of all, I avoided unpacking for a solid half hour more. That’s the real success story here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rei didn’t leave after closing the door. She remained in the hall, watching the girl through the peephole as she departed. She couldn’t say exactly why she did it, only that it felt like the appropriate thing to do. When at last the redhead disappeared from her field of vision, she turned away from the door, and made her way to the kitchen. A strange sensation had developed in the pit of her stomach as they conversed. As with her logic for remaining at the door, the reason behind it barely escaped her mental grasp, as did an appropriate name for it. At best, she could characterize it as an unsettling experience, but not an unpleasant one. The feeling of a warbling tremor creeping up toward her chest, and then shying down and away once more. It played just beyond her reach, content to lurk there. Her first thought had been that perhaps food would lay the disturbance to rest. However, as she sat at the table and contemplated the granola bar she had retrieved from one of the cabinets that ringed the kitchen proper, she came to the abrupt realization that she lacked both the appetite and interest to eat it. Dropping the item in question back onto the tabletop, she tilted her head back to consider her kitchen ceiling. She decided that she preferred this view to the similar one she had observed earlier in the day.

There were fewer unpleasant memories wrapped up in this one. At least, that was the explanation she provided to herself, citing it as being the rationale reason for her mood. Because, clearly, it made perfect sense that studying the structure of the kitchen ceiling would fill her with a disconcerting, apprehensive excitement, but excitement all the same. Any other explanation would beg further questions. Questions she thought it was far, far, far too soon to be even touching upon. And that was without taking into account the fact that the excitement shied away from analysis. She suspected any efforts to investigate it would only yield confusing results. Results that led to the very same questions she wished to avoid. The safer alternative, then, was the ceiling. She was excited over the ceiling. Surely, if inspecting the ceiling of her bedroom could trigger a cascade of doubts and memories, inspecting the kitchen ceiling could make her feel giddy with an opaque happiness, until her brain was too muddled to focus on the shapes in the plaster and they meshed together into an indistinct collage of lines that made her eyes water when she tried to trace the maze she envision within it. Right?

#evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #fanfic #fanfiction #highschool au #asurei #asuka x rei #rei ayanami #asuka soryu langley

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ninbinary · 3 years

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DnD Character Backstory Datapoints - Example 1: Human Orphan Lives Dangerously

Hey, thank you to @kursed-curtain (who tumblr will not let me "@", good application u got here) for reblogging my DnD Character Backstory Datapoints suggestion :) (It goes without saying you could ideas like this for non-RPG character or story generation too, and could add more dice representing different things!)

In thanks, I decided to type up an example of me using it to create a (reallly overly-in-depth -- this is gonna be a long post!) character backstory idea from thin air.

(Let me know if you guys out there like this, and I'll do it again sometime! Also let me know if you use this datapoints-system to create a chararacter (or feel free to use this character backstory), and let me know how it goes!)

A) Human character, Younger (d2 + 1 periods)

(I'll refer to the character as "Character", and I'm not doing anything to bake Character Class in to the story (though I'll talk about that at the end), to try to make this as "generic" as possible!)

A0) number of time periods:

d6 roll of 4 = d2 roll of 2; +1 = 3 time periods.

A1) First Time Period:

d12 = 10 [10/12 Danger]

d10 = 6 [6/10 City]

d8 = 1 [1/10 Species Diversity]

That's an Extremely dangerous time, in a Relatively Urbanized area, with only 1 kind of species. Given that its the First time period for a started-adventuring-younger character, I think my overall summary would be:

"Abandoned Orphan in a Medium-Sized Exclusively-Human City"; they spend their early years with a few slightly-older orphans living in alleys and stealing food.

(Alternatively, other interesting ways you could interpret this: if your gameworld has "bad guy countries / city-states" near your "generally friendly demihuman species", you could do these dice as "orphan human in a [bad guy species] city")

A2) Second Time Period:

d12 = 11 [11/12 Danger]

d10 = 3 [3/10 City]

d8 = 3 [3/10 Species Diversity]

Wow, it's somehow gotten MORE dangerous for poor Human Character; but its also only half as Urban, and they're finally around a few more species of Demihuman. How would moving OUT of the city be MORE dangerous? Well, 'city invaded' is always an option, but because of the other two dice, here's how I'd turn these dice into a story point:

"Character's youth life of petty crime / cutpurse-ing for basic necessities finally ends in trouble so serious that they flee the city / their orphan-gang / the only home and family they've known, and join up with a travelling caravan." Depending on how "dark" you want the character to be, you could take it any number of ways; but let's say you want a Shit-Life-but-Charitable character and go with: one of their pickpocketting sorties goes bad, and as the pack scatters, Character and a close friend get caught in a blind alley by a city guardsman. Character is at the top of a ladder while Friend is scrambling up, but the guardsman is closing in, sword drawn, so Character throws a brick and kills the guardsman. Friend gets away, but before Character escapes, the next wave of guard sees their dead comrade and gets a good look at Character.

Character makes arrangements ASAP to sign on as a caravan guard, calling in favors to get semi-respectable looking leathers (and maybe the dead guards' sword) and a forged letter-of-reference from their gang's fence. Within a nervewracking 24 hours of lying low, Character's friends have managed to sign them on to a caravan, and one last sprint through the city's allies and undermaintained warehouses later, Character is all set. The next morning they're marching out the city gate with a 4-wagon, 15-individual caravan, run by a halfling merchant, taking fancier fabricks and fashionable metalworked jewelry to the more rural human/halfling backcountry outside of the city.

(So, here all the Danger is about the transition TO this period of Less-City, More-Species-Diversity time period). Let's see how it wraps up with Third Time Period:

A3) Third Time Period:

d12 = 10 [10/12 Danger]

d10 = 9 [9/10 City]

d8 = 2 [2/8 Species Diversity]

Oh dear; danger DOES seem to follow poor Character around! We're back to a Lot of danger, in an EVEN BIGGER CITY, around only a Few different species. How should this conclude Character's pre-Adventure story?

Well, since its so dramatic (STILL Danger, BIGGER City!), its going to end with such a bang, you'd probably want to think about where Campaign's going to begin.

(One way to read the Danger is by saying, "the caravan was raided and the survivors were taken prisoner", but how does that result in such a high City number (while the Species Diversity stays pretty low)? For example, if City stayed low, you could have Character be prisoner of a small bandit camp operating out of a wooded area.)

Well (and if this fits with the campaign setting), we could read it this way:

"the Caravan was raided by marauders from Underground-living [Species X], which hasn't been active in this area for decades..." The survivors were taken back through Species X's New Outpost in this region, and then a select few (including Character) were sent to the capital for one of the following unsavory ends (Ritual Sacrifice, or Gladitorial Combat, or Being Eaten at a Feast Celebrating the New Outpost, etc).

Fortunately for Character, one of the Species X jailors becomes sympathetic because.. they take pity on Characters' youth; or because of the Character's brazen tenacity defending a fellow prisoner from the head jailor's abuse [hey, tying back to their killed-a-guardsman moment], or something; and arranges for Character to be smuggled out of Species X City into the surrounding countryside.

(Another Alternative Idea, had One Dice Gone a Different Way: maybe if Species Diversity was higher, the Species X City could have enough different kinds of folks walking around that you could think about letting Sympathetic Jailor take on Character as a servant, apprentice or even adopted child -- albeit temporarily, or else they'd never be a player-character meeting up with the party. But it would definitely be interesting to see what a Human Orphan from the Mean Streets of [Medium-Sized Human City] would be like after spending their formative years as Adoptive Mindflayer Dad's protege).

Anyway, Wrapup:

Now a long way away from their 'home' city and probably home country (remember, they were captured by Species X nearby, but then moved days (or weeks) travel underground to Species X Huge City), Character finds their way to [wherever the Party starts], and will hopefully have a much less dangerous life just killing monsters and collecting treasure.

Character would definitely have a lot of street-smarts, might have a "I will survive no matter what" mentality, a healthy disrespect for law-and-order, probably standoffish about friendships but a deep loyalty to those they get close to (many of these being Great traits for an adventuring party!).

There's a lot of ways to tweak this outline to make them more "dark and moody" or give them different responses to their travails (if you wanted to make them more of a "mad dog", or utterly ruthless), and there's also room for plot hooks (who were their parents? What happened to their Orphan Gang back home? Does [their original city] have enough intra-city communication that their guardsman-killing will haunt them (for example, make the guardsman they killed someone with connections or seniority, so there's someone with a big axe to grind about eventually getting the guardsman's killer)? Did they grow close to some of their fellow Caravan people and did any of them survive the attack?)

Also if you have a specific character class in mind you can tweak bits of this -- Rogue or Warrior types fit perfectly, but a more Wizard-y character class could certainly fit too: you could play up their burgeoning powers, and have power flare-ups central to Character's 2 dramatic acts -- when they killed the Guardsman in Second Time Period, and have it be the reason that Sympathetic Jailor helped them in Third Time Period.

Thanks for reading all this, anyone who made it all the way through, and let me know what you think! (And no thanks to Tumblr, whose Text Popup stopped letting me type certain letters -- I wrote the actual Character Creation thing in a textfile cuz it was so long, but I then had to compose the incidental comments / intro in a textfile too then copy-paste-format it into this tumblr window >:P)

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #character creation #character backstory #backstory #dicey #player character #ttrpg #rpg

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wondersbeyondcompare · 4 years

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More Majid Stuff

I post once in a blue moon b/c I work in random bursts and get tired easily, but here are some rambles about Majid that I’ve saved in my Notes app and probably haven’t mentioned before!

There are some rumors circulating around Majid regarding his wealth

More specifically: how he got his wealth

All these rumors range from him being a secret son of a noble family to taking shady underground jobs that paid ridiculously well

His name had been searched up more than once, but the only thing that pops up is a bakery business w/ a small branch located in the Land of Hot Sands... not too far from where Majid grew up...

Majid’s a quick learner; he just lacks the motivation lol

Tends to overthink too often, tho, coming up with detailed plans to get out of doing the most mundane stuff

Funny to watch but a pain in the ass to comprehend 😔

Although Majid tries to get out of doing most stuff, there are some things he can’t let slide

He can get picky over how some tasks are done; honestly??? this might be a good tactic on getting him to work (“Hey, Majid. Can you help set up the decorations for tonight’s party?” “No.” “Aaaa, okay, guess we’ll just have Mark do it-“ “Mark? You want to leave decorating to him? Do you want the lounge looking like a highlighter projectile vomited over the walls and ceiling? Give me those streamers. I’ll do it myself-“)

Definitely a quality over quantity kind of person; his room may be a mess of different things, but, rest assured, it’s only the best of the best of stuff that stay for long like lava lamps

I want to say that Majid is picky about a lot of things in general, but he does have his exceptions; for example: food, napping locations, job opportunities, ummm (･_･;) That’s most of what I can think of right now, dang

This pickiness is kiiind of 👉👈 referencing a trait that the Cave of Wonders has; like the whole “only a diamond in the rough shall enter here“ business that was going on idk I’m trying my best

As you can see, I went ham when it came to the “Who disturbs my slumber” line the tiger head had lol 😅(sorry that had become your defining trait, m’boi)

And the mass of riches he’s accumulated over the years was another obvious reference to the inside of the cave as well; can also act as a loose metaphor of what’s stopping him from getting the help he needs; as the treasures in the cave were put there w/ the intent of distracting a person from the ultimate goal of the magic lamp, so does his own treasures serve as a temporary distraction from moving forward in his life

But if that’s too much of a stretch, then plz slap the inner English teacher in me and then myself

Majid’s good at looking through people’s facades and judging a person’s true character, but it’s not like he does much w/ this info

Unless they try confronting him or something, he just avoids/shuts down people he gets bad vibes from

Doesn’t make tactless comments; figured out that dealing with pissed off people was more work than it’s worth

Boi tends to ask a lot of questions when speaking to other people; partly b/c of trust issues; partly b/c he might be lowkey judging you (can’t use his unique magic all the time after all :/)

He’s the type of person who acts like he knows everything, but he really doesn’t; just hates getting looked down upon in general; will bluff his way through situations by being as vague as possible

He leans towards how his mother used to speak; that is: beating around the bush

He won’t lie to you, but it might take some time until he’ll give you the whole truth; and when I say it’ll take some time, IT REALLY WILL TAKE SOME TIME B/C THIS BOY IS UNBELIEVABLY STUBBORN

Is casual to whoever he speaks to, no matter the age; if he gets extremely annoyed with someone, especially if they’re older than him, he’ll use this over exaggerated polite tone that makes it real obvious he’s fed up with them

Gets ticked off whenever anyone advises him to do anything, but he’ll still take that advice to heart

Majid’s probably tired all the time b/c of all the jewelry he’s carrying around smh

Majid sounds/looks like he’s angry all the time, but that’s just his resting face 😔; I mean, he’s always a little irritated, but it’s mostly b/c he’s stuck in that state of being forced awake from a deep afternoon nap (b/c... that’s usually what happens to him)

Plus, have you met his upperclassmen? Have you seen what was going on in Scarabia during Chapter 4?????? Have you met the headmaster of this school???????? (; ω ; )

He doesn’t like people touching stuff that’s his; same thing goes for people touching stuff in general that aren’t theirs; doesn’t like thieves (he’s stolen stuff when he was younger, but he justifies that he only did so to survive; and he’s not entirely wrong)

Ironic b/c his mom was a thief 🤭

He’s also a pretty obedient student save for the whole “trying to sleep in class w/o getting caught” thing that he’s still trying to accomplish; doesn’t like it when the professors get strict with him but will grit his teeth and bear with it

Prefers magic carpets to magic broomsticks; there’s just a lot more surface area when it comes to carpets plus he’s more familiar with the former

Spends a lot of his time in the Scarabia storage room b/c it reminds him of his bedroom back home; probably became buddies w/ Kalim’s magic carpet while he was there too

But if we’re talking about the type of people Majid could tolerate befriending uummm... maybe those with good hearts?? Idk, like those who are genuinely trying to be a good person no matter what kind of obstacles they run into (referencing how the cave of wonders only let a diamond in the rough enter)

They don’t have to be all nice or sweet, but as long as Majid can tell they have kind intentions, he won’t immediately leave them

Has a “haaah... these guys are hopeless... might as well keep an eye on them so they don’t screw up any more than they already have” attitude towards these people

Other type of person Majid would unintentionally befriend are those who are also annoyed of being told what to do by upperclassmen/authority figures; ☺️🙏 vent out your frustrations together wooo

Has some squabbles with Leona when it comes to napping locations

It’s actually pretty funny to watch b/c they both don’t want to give up their spot but also they don’t want to bother getting up

Leona wins most of the time, tho

Majid may have had a lot of energy when he was younger but now he’s a g e d

I rarely mention Majid’s lava illusion magic thing, but yeah that’s a thing; he probably won’t be able to use it to its full extent until his last year of high school and maybe a little bit later; it takes up a ton of energy; I keep on imagining him using it and joking that “aaaa the floor is lava lol”, but then I remember the psychological effects this ability has on the victim and 😬 yikes scratch that

Majid has a loud clear voice when he speaks; often startles whoever’s walking by when he naps in the shadows

As a result of spending most of his time w/o a stable support system and no one static to guide his beliefs, Majid doesn’t follow any particular religion; he does have coworkers back at the curio/appraisal/pawn shop who do, tho, and while he doesn’t entirely understand it, he respects them as much as he can

I’ve said before that Majid selfishly keeps all his wealth to himself for fear of losing his self worth, but there are some exceptions (such as to anyone he passes who’s begging in the streets, a coworker who’s struggling to make ends meet, etc.)

He’s fine with giving away some money, but not in huge amounts

And if he’s giving money to anyone, it’s done in a round about way; usually w/ a dismissive excuse

If this boi had a route, depending on how the MC acts around him, the majority of it will be spent breaking down those walls and befriending him; generally going like this: shovel all trust issues into incinerator one by one —>Get him to tolerate you —> Get him to trust you —> Befriend (?) Him —> Deal w/ his other deep seated issues —-> Romance (if we’re going for that otome game kinda thing i guess???))

I can just imagine Majid temporarily visiting the Land of Hot Sands w/ MC after befriending him and finding out the truth about his parents through his boss at the curio shop; MC encourages him to travel north to pay a visit at some facility b/c it’s rumored that at least his father is still alive

(No idea what happened to Lara; probably suffered worse consequences due to making several prison breaks; had decently powerful magical abilities, so that would probably explain the whole forced amnesia thing that happened after their disappearance)

Majid is torn b/w wanting to go alone b/c this is a personal matter (And he wants MC to be safe) and being scared of losing MC if something horrible happens to him on his journey north; he knows what it’s like to be suddenly abandoned, and he doesn’t want that for anybody, especially for someone he cares about

He doesn’t want to repeat his father’s mistakes, regardless if it was accidental or not

Majid decides to go on his own; probably had some touching parting w/ MC; maybe we’ll go full otome and have a hugging CG where he swears that he will be back for MC

And MC is just like “Aight;;; cool;;; good luck;;”; something sentimental like that

Couple of days passed; we’re worried about him

He returns with a worried look on his face before breaking into a relieved smile when he sees MC; power walks to hug them even tighter than before

Majid thanks them for all they’ve done; he then spends the rest of the day and well into the night describing all he’s experienced and his visit with his dad

They go back to NRC and Majid is less bratty than before, much to the surprise of Jamil and to the delight of Kalim; actually starts to make an effort to not push people away at every opportunity (b/c he originally felt like they all had their own hidden agenda and were just using him for their own gain, y’know)

Boi becomes even more clingy towards MC; by that, I don’t mean he’s overly attached to them (he’s afraid of making the same mistake he did in the past), but rather he shows it through light casual touches here and there (a brush of the fingers when exchanging papers, patting MC’s head when they do something well, gently tugging at their sleeve when he needs their attention) and constantly checking up on them to see how they’re doing

Awkward levels in Majid increase as he constantly wonders if he’s crossing a line when it comes to him showing any kind of affection; he doesn’t want to come off as creepy and make MC hate him

Might also resist being given love and affection at first; but once he gets used to it, he absolutely m e l t s

Cuddles are 👌; might give teary eyes if MC tries to leave early during a cuddling session, but he won’t pressure them to stay; a touch starved boi

Doesn’t think much of PDA, giving or receiving; full on making out and anything further is kind of a no-go, tho; hugging is nice and so are short and sweet kisses; will glare at anybody who says anything about it

If his s/o was clingier than he is, he might get a little embarrassed; same thing goes if his s/o was really cute

Definitely the type of boyfriend to buy random gifts for his s/o b/c these things reminded him of them

Younger Majid was in full on puppy mode all the time, or at least when he was around people he liked; also a huge people pleaser too, since he was afraid of them leaving him

He was probably reckless too in order to entertain his friends

Was really polite, especially when it came to adults; always calling them Mister and Miss(us)

He was also just loud

Future Majid (if he came to terms with most of his problems) would be more mellow than his teenage self; still anti-social but he’s less angry at the world now; would go on to own the curio shop after the previous owner passed on; reverted it into both a jewelry/appraisal shop in order to honor his father plus respect the previous owner’s memory as well

Sells and repairs jewelry and appraises supposedly rare items that come through his store; still does odd jobs for the people in the neighborhood but his prices aren’t as outrageously high as he made them when he was younger

He names the new store after his mother, at the request of his father (plus I only recently heard the song “House of Gold” by Twenty One Pilots and hnnnmmg it fits well with this golden boy)

Majid is interested in most things related to jewelry, probably subconsciously influenced by his father; this includes repairing bits of jewelry; he moves delicately when it comes to these kinds of tasks

He’s a night owl; it’s much quieter at night

Has bad posture from sleeping in different weird places

His body is prone to heating up easily; the fact that he lives in the Land of Hot Sands and was also sorted into Scarabia is just unfortunate luck

Sneaks off to cooler areas on campus in his free time to chill; one of his favorite spots is the Octavinelle lounge since it’s air conditioned and dark, and he can get away with taking a nap before going over his time limit and getting kicked out

The library is nice too (´∀｀)

Would like to go to Ignihyde too, but he’s put off by the feeling of being underground (gotta have that bit of irony like Jamil being afraid of bugs 👌)

He tolerates Kalim better than Jamil; probably b/c the latter scolds him for slacking off

Actually went to Kalim for tutoring advice once before realizing part of the way that his senior had no idea what he was doing; Jamil has earned his respect when it comes to academics

Kinda jealous of the duo’s stamina; Majid’s usually heaving for air after long marches or if he’s ever chosen as a backup dancer for one of Scarabia’s many parties; he’s the ( ・∇・) least athletic of my OCs...

No, he can’t dance, but he can feign the movements well enough to not get caught

#twisted wonderland oc #twst ocs #twisted wonderland ocs #twst oc #twst oc art #art #twisted wonderland oc art #writing #my art #my post #Majid #mun taro speaks #everytime i post about my ocs i see that one twitter post flash inside my mind #the one that goes like #me to my followers: hey im sorry i havent been posting about my ocs that much but #followers: ??? wait??? you have ocs???#I LOVE SLEEPING TOO MUCH IM SORRY #anyway yeah heres my boy #its mostly just character stuff b/c ive gone over most of his background in his profile and his parents post #will i do the same for the other kids i have?? maybe if i get the energy to...#im just biased for majid #if you managed to get through everything on here congrats #you have my love and undying loyalty from now on #also i didnt really know where i was going with all of this #if it seems like im jumping from one idea to another its b/c i was

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kai-keda · 3 years

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Cowards Die Many Times | DreamSMP Fanfic

Wow okay so I literally JUST made a post flat-out making fun of myself for writing this but in the tags I made a comment of “Should I post this?” and wow three people already reblogged with comments expressing I share.

So, you can thank (or blame lol) @thesmpisonfire @tommyistheprotagofthesmp and @ak3m0n for this being posted here at all. Depending on what the response to this is on here, I may or not post it on a03 and, again, depending on the response, I may or may not make this a sort of collection of one-shots detailing different death scenes and how the characters felt in those moments.

A/N:

THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE REAL LIFE STREAMERS!

I view the DreamSMP storyline as a sort of Dungeons and Dragons game with no real DM. Just players running around a world that they create as they go along and cause whatever chaotic instances and plot points they can manage. As such, while I write this and as you read this I want you to remember - burn into your brain - that this story isn’t about the real Minecraft streamers. They aren’t even streamers in this fic, they are fictional characters living in a made-up fictional world. I get that the line is blurred due to the nature of the videos this is based on, but I view it as being sort of like how when you write a character like Spiderman, you’re writing Spiderman, not Tobey Maquire.

All that being said, I really wanted to just write this concept of how death and respawn works with Tubbo from a certain festival event but as it turns out, he is very uncomfortable with the concept of fanfiction written about him. (Thank you SMP-boundaries for your God sent Tumblr) As such, even though I don’t see it as me writing literally him as I’m sure he’s seen plenty of, I won’t include anything from his perspective and try to limit any sort of mention of him. (I can’t bring myself to surgically remove him entirely. That would just be impossible because of how much of a part he plays both in what visibly happens and in Tommy’s development) ALSO PLEASE do not go out of your way and tag or try to show any of the Minecraft streamers/youtubers involved in this (not that y’all would lol). I happen to know that Tommy especially doesn’t want to see them even if he’s okay with them existing.

This was also meant to be a sort of collection of ficlets in one chapter. It was going to include more than this one scene and even include a POV from Wilbur but, uh, wow I got really carried away heh

SO YEAH! Now we got the important bits out of the way, please enjoy~

Cowards Die Many Times

“Do I shoot him Wil, or do I aim for the skies?” It was a heavy question. So heavy he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head. As they stood together and allowed the light reflecting off the water shine on them in a subtle way, Tommy considered his options. The answer should have been obvious. After all, this was war and this duel was their ticket to end it all and free themselves from their previous leader. The one Wil and he had labeled as a tyrant.

Dream.

“Tommy I -” A pause. Tommy looked up at his general. The only man he would ever take orders from. Wilbur Soot. He could see in his eyes that he had messed up. This was a burden Tommy couldn’t handle anymore. The deafening silence lasted for all of two seconds but it felt like eternity. He would never know for sure what Wilbur thought of his outburst and challenge towards their worst enemy, but the answer he received relaxed him. If only for a bit.

“I want you to do whatever your heart tells you.”

Tommy took a deep breath and relaxed it before turning around and going towards the man who hid behind a mask.

“Coward.” He whispered to himself. When he thought the word, he believed it was for Dream but now that he felt it leave his mouth and heard the shake of his voice, he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or not.

He walked to the center of the wooden path and held his bow tight. The tyrant, with his bright green hoodie that seemed to act as a target and challenge, laughed with his friends. With George and Sapnap. As if he felt this was all a game and after he won it would all be over with him holding more than bragging rights. The worst of the scene was that even Eret - the traitor - joined in their fun.

With such thoughts running through his mind, it’s no wonder the decision Tommy came to.

They needed their independence.

And Tommy had the perfect opportunity.

He knew what death felt like. He had nearly grown used to it. Maybe that’s why he was always so quick to start fights, skirmishes and even join wars. That was probably why he felt no regret with this decision to challenge the immediate area’s strongest member.

But if he was so used to death, then why did he shake so much?

Dream finally left his friends behind to watch as he walked towards Tommy. The younger of the two swallowed his nerves and did his best to glare. The smiling mask stared him down. Was Dream glaring under there? Was he shaking within the loosely fit hoodie? Was he…

“Are you taking this seriously at all, Dream?”

“Oh, I don’t know. This seems pretty easy.”

Oh yeah, Tommy was killing him for sure. To hell with any sort of ‘honor’ that supposedly came with throwing away ones shot in a duel, Dream was officially a dead man.

“Remember, Tommy,” Dream stated with his usual calmness, “when I win, you give me the disk, Mellohi, and you all give up this silly tantrum for good.”

Tommy glared even harder as now he was angrier than ever. Dream was always after his music disks, his most prized possessions in this God forsaken land. Betting one of them was worth it if it meant seizing total and complete independence forever for this wonderful vision Wilbur had shared with him.

He thought briefly about the disks. About why they were so treasured by Dream and himself.

For Dream they were merely bargaining tools. Something he could use to keep Tommy under control and stop him from starting anymore fights with anymore members under Dreams thumb. The deal would be that if Tommy got involved in any sort of ‘griefing’ of any kind, Dream would burn the disks. Though, to be completely fair and honest, all of that had started with Sapnap burning an unrelated member's home and then dragging both of the now dueling men into the fight.

But for Tommy? These disks were everything. There was something nostalgic about the sound of music, as though there was something he had long forgotten from a time far behind him. It was incredibly rare where they lived to find such things and Tommy, Tommy had two of them. Each a different mixture of sounds that brought their own unique textures to his mind.

He was not about to throw away his shot.

A whisper entered his mind and he did his best to not give away who it was from. For someone to use this ability, one that made themselves freeze in place and become vulnerable, especially at a time like this, it was important. So he simply continued to glare at Dream.

‘There’s no turning back now, Tommy. Good luck out there. My right hand man.’

Tommy took a deep breath before yelling out as loud as he could. “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO!”

At the sound of yelling, Dream, Sapnap, George, Eret and even Tubbo - the only other member as young as the loud blonde child and one of their allies - all laughed. But the rest of his side? His makeshift army? They starred with an apathetic energy Tommy wasn’t sure what to feel about. All looked as though they had given up on this hopeless revolution. The humanoid fox and supposed child of the general, (it was unclear how serious he was of such a claim as it was never confirmed) Fundy, even went so far as to let out a sigh and shake his head.

He never was one to find such outbursts funny. It was as though he felt that Tommy treated this all as a simple game with no consequences. Yeah, he hadn’t experienced death nearly as many times as Tommy had, so maybe he did think more of it.

Wilbur, however, was hardly monotone in his expression and voice. As he spoke his next line, he looked directly at Tommy for only a brief second with worry and, more importantly, sadness. Wilbur had also already given up but as Tommy thought over that look, he realized that Wilbur, the one who was always looking after him as though he were an older brother charged with watching over the youngest child, was apologizing for dragging him into this. For supposedly making Tommy experience the worst possible torture this crazy world had to offer over and over.

Death.

“Are both parties ready?” Wilbur had questioned. After that one look, he refused to even so much as glance at Tommy. The younger one understood. Wil could never help getting emotional in times like these, after all.

Tommy turned to look at his opponent and the damn man was putting on a show of yawning, hardly looking prepared. He really was that confident.

Tommy pointed an accusatory finger at the one who seemed to like to smile a bit too much and yelled out “Are you ready to experience death, Dream?! Cause I’m ready to cause it for you!”

Dream shrugged and stood straight, bow in hand at his side. “Let’s hurry and get this started.”

Wilbur, still not looking at Tommy and, more surprisingly, not saying anything about his outburst of a response, stated the rules of the duel.

Turn their backs to each other, count ten paces - no more, no less - and then fire on your opponent at will. The first to die wins the duel and the agreement.

Either Tommy loses one-half of his most prized possessions, or he gains independence for their nation.

The count began. Tommy thought about what it would be like to kill Dream like this. No tricks, no silly traps and no real plans from either of them. Just a single arrow making contact and he would be dead. It was almost unreal. He would be a hero and would be considered a total badass. Maybe everyone, both enemy and friend, would finally respect him.

The count hit four. His thoughts turned away from such happy fantasies. What if Dream wanted revenge? He never took losing very well. Rather, he took it harshly, and the Lord only knew what George would do to them in unofficial retaliation. Dream would probably lightly suggest George return the favor to Tommy in a whisper and then claim to wash his hands of the incident. Just for the satisfaction of showing power while keeping whatever peace they decide upon after all this.

The count hit seven. Tommy centered himself. Maybe it was a bad idea to allow himself to daydream at this time. He probably should’ve been scanning and studying the terrain thoroughly and thinking of how to use it to his advantage and of how the other could use it against him. Think of a plan or at least a vague idea of the literal millions if not infinite possibilities.

Like hell.

Tommy always thought of plans only when he was backed into a corner and even then he was well into a battle.

Dream was the one to come up with every possible outcome and choose one of nine where he won. Tommy refused to be like Dream.

The count hit ten.

Tommy turned quickly and fired. His arrow went off and almost hit Sapnap, someone who was once an ally, if only temporarily, in his and Dream’s initial war. Way further off his target than the young man was willing to accept.

There was no time to think and sit in denial of being such a terrible shot. No time to listen to Dreams lackies yell at him to be a better aim or watch Tubbo cover his eyes while Fundy simply shrugged as though expecting it. Dream’s first arrow went by his ear so fast he almost felt as though it could deafen him and the older of the two was already aiming his second shot while Tommy was stuck in disbelief.

Tommy quickly moved and jumped to avoid the arrow that he knew would hit him if he didn’t but instead of landing on the wooden path, he crashed into the water. The very lake - or was it a pond? - that served to decorate the land and create a nice scenic area to sit and enjoy time with friends around. Tommy had forgotten all about it just as everyone had probably predicted.

Just as Dream had predicted.

As no arrows came, Tommy figured that Dream was waiting for him to surface so he took the time to ponder on his decisions.

After all, there was no doubt they were coming to bite him in the ass. There was no chance of him getting out of the water and not getting shot to death by a single arrow from his worst enemy.

This was it.

He was going to die again.

How much would it hurt this time? How long would he be stuck in an area of nothingness as whatever God that created them formed a new body? Would he be able to see his friends, to see Wilbur, as they are forced to give away any hope of a special place they could call their own?

Would it be slow and torturous as his body reels from the pain or would it be instant and clean? He had no way of knowing any of these things. He had no way of knowing what this death would feel like as, in his experience, there was no rhyme or reason to any of it.

What would one day only sting for a bit as he was instantly brought back to life, would cause him to spasm and feel his heart stop and his lungs give up their air for what felt like hours. In that one case that comes to mind, to add insult to injury, he would be trapped in that plain area that was completely absent of light and life with no way to contact anyone he loved (or hated).

They all knew this.

They all agreed that the fear of what would happen as you see the attacks coming and you feel yourself growing weaker could only sometimes be worse than the experience itself.

Tommy felt torn by everything in a single moment. If they all knew this, then why did they fight in this war to begin with? Was it worth these moments of pure fear and terrible agony?

Whenever he would die he would return as though nothing ever happened despite his true thoughts and experience. He was not one to talk about things like ‘feelings’ or ‘emotions’. That was something for women and only women. No matter how much Wilbur would try to encourage him to be more open like Tubbo, Tommy was a man. And he was always fighting to prove it.

Yes.

He may be positive he’ll lose. He may be certain there is no chance of winning this duel, but Tommy made a decision in that moment as he swam to the other side of the path.

He was going to die but he’d be damned if he let himself be the cause of Wilbur’s hopes in the form of their very own L’Manberg crashing down forever and for good.

First, he had to make it look good so no one else would suspect what he had hiding in the deepest part of his mind. An actual plan.

He jumped from the lake and pointed his arrow directly at the mask and right between the eyes but before he could fire, he was hit.

Ah. This one was going to hurt.

#dream smp #fanfiction #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit #kairi yajuu fanfiction #cowards die many times #that's a Shakespeare #just btw #I was gonna add the scene where Tommy and Dream make the deal with the discs but that ending felt too damn right #when I wrote it and then read a few paragraphs back to that point #and it felt even better when I read through the whole thing several times #for quality control and stuff ya know?#anyways this is probably really cringe hah #hope they don't find this #oh yeah!#Not that y'all would but don't @ any of the creators to try and show them this #most of them don't mind that fanfiction exists #but they would rather pretend it doesn't #cough cough tommyinnit himself

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secret-engima · 4 years

Note

So in your Naruto FF cover where Noct/Yoru is believed to be a god, what are the reactions of the families of the Chocobros? Cause their Clan member just got poached but they've also been really strange ever since their near death experience that woke up their memories (or did they always remember)? Especially the Hyuuga because they basically had Hikaru/Ignis enslaved and branded. Or even some povs from the Chocobros. (Poor Prompto, being an Aburame lol)

Ooooo tricky. Kinda depends on the family?

Lemme see- Ignis’s family are Most Displeased. They are super possessive of their eyeballs and treat their branch members as slaves anyway so they see it more like theft than a powerful man claiming a friend. Of course, there’s not much they can DO about it considering it’s Yoru and he burns Ignis’s seal off in .05 seconds and also threatens to burn the rest of the main branch to the ground if they touch Ignis again (not in so many words, but his magic does flatten a few of the members with its intensity when they got too close to Ignis.

Tbh that’s probably a blood grudge the Hyuga hold until Naruto’s time even though they stay in Konoha and Ignis is known among the hyuga not only as the blind member but the Stolen Hyuga. A warning to all hyuga of what will happen if they are not careful with their eyes and other such nonsense that only works because younger Hyuga don’t interact with Yoru enough to know that he’s a really chill dude and Ignis is happy where he is.

The Inuzuka are not too thrilled at first, but more laidback about it? Gladio still visits and they can tell that he’s Super Happy about being reunited with Yoru, and Yoru is polite and respectful to them and their dogs like him and you can never go wrong with the opinion of dogs in an Inuzuka’s eyes.

The Aburame ... are honestly the most chill about this? They aren’t too thrilled at first, but Yoru already has a Hyuga and an Inuzuka by then, so there is a precedent, and after a bit of watching it’s clear that these four are basically a Hive unto themselves and Prompto is happy to be there, is healthy and well cared for so they just kinda- shrug and move on. Maybe use the fact that one of their own is “Favored by Yoru” to their advantage during tricky Council meetings generations later.

The oddness and memories thing were long commented on, but ... mostly unnoticed in Hikaru’s case? Among the Branch Clan it was noted, but no one said anything or really thought about it because honestly I doubt the Hyuga have never had an Incident where Branch Members get a bit ... weird post Sealing and post a traumatic experience. That’s a chakra doohickey tattooed to your SKULL, side-effects are not impossible. The Inuzuka noticed it too, but Gladio was still ... himself, just a big more jaded and mature so they let it slide.

The Aburame maybe spent a good few years trying to figure out what the freak happened with Prompto though. Because they’ve never had a bug-a-phobic member before and it’s weird. They love him tho. He’s their disaster child.

Tbh in the Warring States Era nobody was really focused on mental health. If you were loyal to the Clan and could fight that was all that really mattered, weirdo personality changes aside.

Uhhh POVs but only short snips, and pls forgive any inconsistencies with previously establish AU lore my brain is tired and I may not keep all the details 100% straight. Just roll with it.:

Ignis:

After a lifetime of being blind, being able to SEE everything, all around, at any given time is unnerving. This entire era is unnerving and Hikaru has bitten his tongue more than once to keep from railing against it. Against sending CHILDREN, some not much older than toddlers out into the field, against the brand on his head and the heads of so many others that burns on the whim of a Main Branch member.

He keeps his head down, but inside ... he hates. More than a little bit. He is a fractured piece of glass and he knows too much pressure with make him snap, so he does his utmost to avoid those situations (because if he snaps children will get hurt even more than now and nothing will change in the Clan).

Then one day they go to meet Hashirama and Madara, to speak of peace, and of course Hikaru has heard of Yoru, the mysterious forest spirit that supposedly watches over the new village and ensures no fighting happens, but he does not actually think this Yoru will be all that impressive.

He never expects it to be NOCTIS. Noctis, who looks at him with hope and wonder in his eyes, who looks so very unchanged despite lifetimes, who rises and calls him brother and Ignis and friend and CLAIMS him in a way the Clan Head cannot dispute. No one can dispute against Noctis, because he is still a Lucis Caelum and a king and to him, their chakra is pebbles in an ocean.

And for the first time in a long time, Ignis is happy. Ignis has hope.

...

Gladio

Gladiolus loves his new family, and he knows they love him back. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss his old life like a wound in his side. Iris’s presence makes it a bit better but also not, because war is cruel and no one cares that she is still so young (older than the other Clans children sent to the field, because Inuzuka treasure their puppies, but still far too YOUNG to the mind of a Shield and Crownsguard). He loves his canine partner and the Pack, he loves that they don’t really question his memories, how his personality has matured and changed since the incident that woke him up.

Even so...

Even so, the absence of his brothers is a bleeding wound in his heart, and when the Clan Head looks at him, Gladio knows the man can see that in his heart of hearts, Gladio is not part of their Pack. He is family, but he has another Pack, another Alpha he swore to a lifetime ago, and that loyalty still howls in his soul far stronger than even the ties of blood and Pack and love that binds him to the Inuzuka.

So perhaps that is why the Clan Head does not look as outraged or surprised as he could have been when Yoru finds him, when NOCTIS looks back at Gladio from an eerily familiar yet not face. That is why, while the Hyuga sputter in shock when Gladio hugs Ignis tight and spins him in a circle for joy, the Inuzuka just watch with comprehension dawning in their eyes. Gladio looks to his Clan Head and says he’s going with Yoru and there is not request for permission. Just a courtesy of announcement. Because THIS- this is his Pack, his Alpha, his Beta, his brothers and littermates. He will follow them above all.

And the Clan Head lets him go.

...

Prompto:

Prompto wants to know who he ticked off in his past life that had a say in the next, because he HAD to have ticked off someone. Why else would he have been reborn into a clan of LIVING HIVE PEOPLE???????

He thinks he distresses them- no, he knows he does, when he flinches from the clan techniques and hives, from the little insects and their pheromones that the Clan uses as essentially an insectoid, chakra-based texting system amongst themselves. He knows he stresses out his hive for a long time, flinching from the feel of them inside him, from the skitter of their legs and wings and the whisper of their tiny, simple little thoughts in his own when they talk to him.

It .... it’s bad for a while. A WHILE. Bad enough the Clan won’t let him fight (which is fine with him) but also bad enough he loses weight and can’t sleep from the hive buzzing buzzing buzzing under his skin from his distress toward them.

It’s his great great grandma that saves him, quite literally, because an Aburame that rejects the hive is an Aburame who dies, not by any malicious intent on the Clans’ part but just- biologically. Just like starving to death will kill him, rejecting his Hive will kill him too and he KNOWS that but he can’t just- turn off his fear.

Then one day Elder Maya, the oldest living Aburame, sends for him. He comes to her private house with shivering skin and jumping senses and the hyper-awareness of the things inside him buzzing buzzing buzzing trying to remove the source of his distress and making it worse because they WERE his distress-.

Elder Maya takes his shaking hands and leads him to her garden.

It’s- it’s beautiful. It’s so beautiful he could cry for his long lost camera of another life. There are colors everywhere, blues and greens, reds, pinks, whites, and mixed splashes of yellow and purple- flowers that stand tall, flowers that droop, flowers dangling from the vines growing up tree trunks.

And everywhere there were flowers, there were butterflies. Butterflies and ladybugs, the two insects he wasn’t completely creeped out by because they were so pretty and photogenic, and for a moment Prompto is so awed his shaking stops, the Hive inside him goes quiet. A butterfly flaps lazily over to him, a glorious thing with vivid blue wings the color of magic and black dots and swirls that remind him of fire. It settles on his hand and he doesn’t flinch from it like he does the kikachu of the clan, just stays quiet and watches it with a bit of awe.

“You are not scared of these ones,” Elder Maya hums.

“U-um ... no,” he whispers as he watches it, “they’re ... pretty. Cute. They don’t ... they don’t look like they’ll hurt me.” And that’s not really his issue with the Kikaichu, but he can’t explain a phobia to ninja, not well anyway.

“Good,” says his great great grandmother, but not with her lips, with the soft splash of impression-scent-sensation from the butterfly on his hand and he gapes as he realizes THIS is her hive. These ladybugs and butterflies are Elder Maya’s hive. He stares at her and she adjusts the dark glasses she wears, “I will give you some of mine. Why? So you can cultivate a new Hive that you will not be afraid of.”

And she does. And it’s CREEPY, but also ... kinda not? It’s ... it still freaks him out to have bugs under his skin, but these ones ... he knows these ones. He chose them, he hatched them, he raised them. They are beautiful and deadly and soft looking and can strip flesh from a target in seconds and he wishes he had a camera because it would be so cool to have butterflies that can pose on command.

It’s a rocky road, but his shaking stops, and his weight goes back to normal, and his sleep schedule returns, and all the Clan breathes a sigh of relief when they see Prompto ambling around, not flinching from the glittery blue butterflies flitting on his shoulders.

And it’s not like his old life, his brothers he misses so badly, but its kinda nice to never be alone. Wherever he goes, his Hive goes, and his new Queens are kinda ... bossy almost and its endearing in a creepy kinda way. The only thing that would make life better, make it perfect (other than to not need a Hive in the first place) would be to have his brothers again.

And then they go to the new village of Konoha, and he meets the famed and terrifying Yoru, who isn’t terrifying at all, but is instead old and tired and blue eyed, and a fish lover and when he smiles, crooked and shy at Prompto all his Hive SINGS under his skin because he KNOWS.

And suddenly the world is perfect again.

#SE asks #spideypoolalways asks #Not Everyday is a Good Day (Live Anyway) verse

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Ashamed

Summary: Could I request one where Eddie is ashamed of the scar on his chest from Pennywise and that he refuses to take his shirt off for any reason until Richie confronts him and tells him that the scar is a reminder of his bravery and he takes Eddie's shirt off and kisses it?

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I’m so sorry it took so long! I’m a bit behind on my request but I promise I’m trying to finish request every day so to everyone who has requested stuff, I promise it’s coming!

warnings: there’s a sex joke in here, and a sex reference (not graphic at all)

Eddie has contemplated before on hanging up a towel over the mirror any and each time he’s in the bathroom by himself. He’s never executed the plan, Richie’s too observant for that too work and would notice but straight away, leading to questions Eddie’s ashamed to answer, but whenever Richie is away on tour or a show, he’ll prop the towel from one side to the other, obscuring the view of his chest.

He’s never been very confident in his appearance, but he wasn’t hyper aware of it like he is after the Pennywise accident either. He didn’t have to be. For years Myra smothered him with her self-presumed love and adoration, picking out the clothes he wore and buying all the creams and aftershave she treasured, and Eddie followed her in those things without stopping and thinking about what he liked and how he wanted to sell himself towards other people.

Once, he was gifted a perfume bottle from one of his coworkers, a secret Santa gift, and when he sprayed it on to go to work the next day, Myra picked up on the change and gave him a piece of her mind. She reamed Eddie about not remodeling himself to be accepted by his peers, not mulling that maybe the Eddie she prepared and drilled every morning was not the real Eddie. There were threats being ushered, like Eddie cheating on Myra and switching perfumes to galvanize his mistress, and no matter how many times Eddie tried to reason with her, she was dead set on the idea.

He tossed the bottle out that same day, immensely guilty that he gave Myra grounds to question him. She was right after all, Eddie was married, and he didn’t have to make anyone happy except his wife, not even himself.

Post Derry him is happier. So fucking happy he gleams and elates every morning awakening in Richie’s arms, or the other way around, nosing behind Richie’s ear to get that one little inch closer, turning off the alarm and dosing an extra hour, work suddenly coming second for once in Eddie’s life. Richie had that effect on him, made him long to be near him twenty-four/seven,

But he also feels worse, and that can be tracked back to the long, vertical scar smacked in the middle of his chest. It’s starts in the mornings, but in a stand offish way, the insecurities bubbling on the edge of his mind loud enough that Eddie knows they’re there, but not so ample close that Eddie nitpicks and examines them, yet.

And at first it wasn’t even that bad, Eddie mostly enthralled with moving his stuff in and out of houses, and fitting as much RichieandEddie time into their shared schedule to gain back what they lost over the years, the underlying doubt and terror every time he caught a glimpse of the scar background to the best moments of his life.

It only really became a problem the first time Eddie and Richie made love to each other, and Eddie refused to take of his shirt. The pleasant, hot and vastly attractive sight of Richie’s slightly pudgy stomach and thighs, and his clean, smooth chest Eddie could run his fingers over and not bubble once incited a deep meekness and carved him hallow. Emptied by the idea that he’s horrific and undeserving of the adoration so blindingly clear in his boyfriends eyes.

Most off all, the scar is reminiscent on the clown trauma, proof that Pennywise maintains some sort of power over him, in comparisons to his friends and Richie, who moved on with their lives. It distinguishes him from the group, and not in a good way. In a way that shines a bright neon spot over Eddie’s head, accentuating his cowardness.

The reflections displayed in the mirror exhibits his slip up, his idiocy to entertain the idea of him being strong enough to defeat Pennywise all on his own, he wants nothing to do with it. The scar tissue puckers up his skin and his disgust is so deeply rooted that he didn’t even bother to check up on it for months after Derry, to assure it didn’t fester.

So no, Eddie doesn’t conceal the glass whenever Richie is home, but what he does do is strip down everything except for his shirt when slipping in the shower, towing the shower curtain and tossing the shirt out, rumpled on the floor, via the small slit.

The wrinkles in his shirt agitate him, but are a small price to pay for preserving his sanity and spirits. In the shower he resolutely does not look down at all, his eyes trained on the ugly pattern of tiles Richie claimed came with the house when he bought it, but Eddie suspects he just really fancy’s it.

Eddie always neatly packs his new shirt on the countertop, effortlessly accessible from the lavatory so he can dry off and pull on his shirt without drawing his own attention to his chest.

Stowing away his insecurity is a weight he’s been holding over his own head, so dangerously close to imbalance and tumbling over that Eddie feels shifting his attention from it slightly will let it all crash down on him. Because Richie has a tenacious personality, and once he catches a whiff of it, he’ll cling to the smallest straws to get to the bottom of it.

The schedule Eddie’s built has never been interrupted before, Richie knowing, or at least being tricked into knowing, and understanding that the bathroom serves as Eddie’s sanctuary, a place for being alone and restocking and regrouping his overactive mind. The interference in the schedule is Eddie’s own wrongdoing, for glossing over the fact that they had a dinner party to attend to, and dragging out his time in the bathroom for way too long plus forgetting to grab a change of clothing.

He only addresses the issue at hand when the shower runs cold and he’s bordering on being late, contemplating his options with his hands resting on his hips. Richie always sings a derivative of a song before entering a room, transforming the lyrics in a way that fits in Eddie and Richie’s life, as a substitute for knocking as that’s boring according to him, but Eddie discerns tiny snores emerging from the living room, so Eddie hurriedly dries off and dons his underwear, training his eyes down casted to not look at the mirror.

He wastes a long time debating on what to wear, matching multiple t-shirts to the pants he has elected to wear, unbeknownst that the snoring in the other room has ebbed away. This is an important business meeting with Richie’s new manager, one that will lift up his spirits and encourage him to fly solo, writers free, and Eddie can’t afford to mess this up. He’s scrutinizing an oxford-button-down forest green shirt, analyzing if there’s a spot on the fabric or if it’s a trick of the light.

Hearing the caroling a smidge too late, Eddie has no time to slip in the shirt before the door cracks open, Richie’s wild curls sticking out in every direction and his pants too low, pulled down from the movements he slanders during sleep.

‘I was about to call the ambulance and ask them to assemble a rescue mission’, he quips, feet padding the carpet of the bedroom lazily.

The weight Eddie’s been bearing up dislodges and veers menacingly to the edge, a gust away from keeling over the edge.

‘Get out’, Eddie says calmly the first time, contorting his body so his upper torse is veiled from Richie’s observation, the button-down serving as a shield of sorts. ‘Get out’, he clamors, a panic attack lurking in the shadows and prowling on his burst of utter panic.

‘Eds’, Richie says perplexed, his eyebrows contracting, his droopy eye more squinted than it is with his face slacked.

‘Get out, I don’t want to see you’, Eddie hisses, witnessing the decay of Richie’s happy face, teetering away backwards and back out in the hallway.

Eddie swallows, the door obstructing his outlook on Richie, and appareling his shirt so fast it tears around the sleeves, pretending he didn’t hear that. His instincts lure him to hide under the covers and wait for the whole thing to blow over, but his comments hurt Richie and his instincts were formed his primary years, while living with his mother, so he does the exact opposite.

‘Rich’, he groans, eyeing Richie leaning on the counter, his body jutting out, dancing on his feet and shelving the cleaned dishes.

‘Richie stop.’ Eddie plasters himself against Richie’s back, fitting so perfectly like puzzle pieces, like a riddle so complicated that’s been solved. He hooks his chin over Richie’s shoulder, kissing the underside of his jaw.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.’

‘No it’s fine, it’s my fault. I need to learn how to knock. I didn’t mean to agitate you.’

‘You didn’t agitate me. I know I say you do all the time but somehow everything you do is endearing, not irritating.’

‘Careful Eddie Spaghetti, you’ll give me a big head.’

‘I can do that tonight if you’d like?’ Eddie teased, the tight knot in his heart uncoiling at the rumbling of Richie’s laugh.

Richie rotated in his arms, front to front, hugging Eddie back in equal fierce as Eddie did too him.

‘Forgive me?’

‘That depends my good follow, however shall you atone me?’ He released Eddie with one arm, using his hand to tap his chin thoughtfully. ‘Hm, perhaps with a reason as to why?’, his British accent lacing his words.

‘Rich, I really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Come on,’ Richie pleaded, pouting with his bottom lip. ‘How can I help if you won’t tell me what’s going on?’

Eddie sighed, his arms cave in and the weight collapses down upon him. ‘I just don’t want you to envision this’, he says, unconsciously smoothing down his shirt on the spot his wound is located.

‘Envision what? You?’

‘No’, Eddie explains miserably, ‘I mean the scar, the disfigurement.’

‘Eddie’, Richie gently chuckles, ‘I don’t give a shit about that.’

‘That’s because you haven’t seen it yet. It’s so ugly and,’ Eddie interrupted himself, unwinding from Richie to give himself some breathing space. Being near Richie is intoxicating, but he needed to think clearly.

‘And what?’ Richie pries.

‘How much of a coward I am okay? I don’t want you to look at me and realize how much better you can do.’

‘Eddie, do you honestly believe you’re a coward?’

‘Yeah.’ Shame flooding the tips of his ears, making it harder to engage the conversation, when all Eddie wanted was to leave and go the this dinner.

‘Like I told you down in the sewers, you’re braver than you think, Eds. I’m the one who aimed higher and scored the jackpot.’ Richie asseverate.

‘You keep saying that but I’m the only one idiot enough to get injured.’

‘That’s no true, I strained my leg muscle.’ Richie states, twisting his leg, reliving the memory of the shards of affliction lodging in.

‘Seriously, maybe you’re the only one that got hurt, but you survived. Who in the world can claim there’s so badass that they lived through being shish kebabbed? By a demon from outer space no less.’

‘No one I guess.’

‘No one, erase the “I guess”. Give yourself some credit.’ Richie says firmly, outstretching his arm and then thinking better of it. ‘Can I touch it?’

‘Richie,’ Eddie hesitated, eyes flitting around the room as if to plan his escape.

‘I’ll be really gentle. And if you don’t like it I’ll pull back straight away.’ The soft tone settles Eddie somewhat, and with a hesitant nod, Richie slowly inches closer. He goes so leisurely, as one would approach a feral kitten, but Eddie keeps the parallels to himself, Richie will tease him relentlessly for it.

Eddie expected Richie to slide under his shirt from the get go, but all Richie does is pet his chest on top of the shirt, mapping out the area and feeling where the scar is located.

The area is strangely sensitive, a reason why Eddie has to douche it softly as opposed to the harsh scrubbing he’s used to doing to every other part of his physics.

Only the barely-there, soft touches of Richie’s fingers pawing, tickles Eddie, realizing a breathless hum as he gets acquainted to Richie and him converging in that spot.

Eddie giggles, Richie steadily ongoing his ministrations, until the notion borders on too much, and he plummets to his knees.

He kisses top of the blemish, all the way to the underside, blowing a raspberry there as if the normal kiss wasn’t ticklish enough.

Eddie cackles, halfheartedly shoving Richie backwards, his worries fizzling out into the night. The smooches leave a trail of slobber from Richie’s mount, wilting spots on his blouse Richie’s manager will discern him in.

‘Richie stop, you’re going to ruin it and we have to leave soon.’

‘Nah, I cancelled.’

‘You cancelled? Why?’

‘Because the love of my love, my Eddie Spaghetti, my Eds, gave off the impression he was in a pretty foul mood.’

‘Was I that obvious?’ Eddie grumbles, fingers racking lovingly trough Richie’s curls.

‘No, I just have a knack for you. Anyways I rescheduled.’

‘Oh Rich you didn’t have to do that. What is she going to think of you?’

‘I don’t care. Look, if she’s striving to be my manager she best believe that my career always come second. You’re my number one priority, no matter what.’

Eddie’s eyes turn bloodshot, blinking rapidly to contain the upcoming flow of tears. Richie presses a final kiss, then resurfaces upwards, a lopsided grin grazing his face.

‘You’re not going to take it off?’ Eddie inquires fretful, not sure what he wants the answer to be.

‘No, later, when you’re more at ease. But Eds, I need you to know, I’m going to look at it, and all that will be going on in my mind is holy fuck. That scar is symbolic for how strong and daring you are, and how glad I am to have you here breathing with me. That motherfucking clown tried everything, and he still couldn’t kill you. You know why? Because you’re a stubborn little basterd, and also indestructible. And I love you so much.’

The taste of salt explodes on Richie’s tongue, surprisingly, he hadn’t got a clue he was crying in the first place.

‘Great, good job idiot. Now look at us, two blubbering idiot sniffling in a kitchen’, Eddie grumbled, but he was smiling so wide the dimples in his cheeks were distinguishable.

‘I love you too.’

#reddie #reddie imagine #reddie fluff #My writing #the loser club imagines #it chapter two imagine #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #Richie x Eddie

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kim-lexie · 4 years

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record of youth.

seriously when i say i was awaiting this drama, i was WAITING. park bogum’s dramas are always stellar and next level. he knows how to pick them, so as soon as i knew bogummy was on the project you best believe i was counting down the days to the release. they got an incredible cast and this drama did not disappoint. and now that it is over i will miss these characters that i have found myself attached to over these past few weeks. i would 10 out of 10 recommend this gem.

plot synopsis.

this drama is a record of the moments between a group of people in their 20s. (get it?! basically a record of their youth in their 20s) jeong-ha an aspiring makeup artist with a day-job as a makeup assistant and a youtuber street artist at night. hye-jun an model/aspiring actor, who is deciding what to do with his little time before enlistment. and hae-hyo as hye-jun’s best friend also in the same career field. with this as our backdrop it follows jeong-ha a fan of hye-jun as they meet and grow in their relationship.

thoughts. *spoilers ahead*

i must say that i loved the premise of this one. it was just unique that i was able to see some new sides to this aspiring actor dimension as well as see the side of the makeup industry. but also familiar with the aspects of the family and wanting to do what is best for those around you.

i thoroughly loved seeing how hye-jun’s family grow into their new role as he became more famous to see that it was not going to go to their heads. his family, and eventually his brother came to find this answer after the shine of it went away. as they stayed in their house, and even hye-jun wanting to do more where he had been planted was beautiful and made me love his character more.

i cannot say how much i loved hye-jun’s mother. she was the sweetest most precious bean. keeping her husband honest. supporting both of her sons, and encouraging her father-in-law’s new dream. all while working for a well-off family and slaying it. what a queen. we stan. i think that if jeong-ha and her had met at that family dinner (they spent episodes try to plan) it would have been a different story. they would have been the best of friends. because they are both encouraging people with their own dreams to see their people succeed in life.

i loved the grandfather’s role in all of this. from being quite and timid because of unfulfilled dreams. and hye-jun allowed him to dream and realized that he was not finished yet. to having him go to modeling classes, and get head shots, to winning awards for his modeling after a few years. truly inspiring. and i loved that completed character arc, because we all live for those great shiny stories.

loved his father’s redemption from being critical and cynical and slapping hye-jun at one point to eventually being his father’s manager, to apologizing to his son. yes, yes. and same with his brother, writing malicious comments back saying only i can be rude to my brother and no one else, to asking for forgiveness.

it was interesting to have the juxtaposition of hye-jun’s family with hae-hyo’s family because the dynamics were so different. and we saw how the two mother’s approached their sons very differently. and hae-hyo’s mother saddened me throughout the drama because of her lack of trust in her son. and when hae-hyo came to find the truth behind his career it devastated him.

i wish we had seen more of jeong-ha’s family because the relationship with her mother was so drawn and weary i understand why there was not a ton in it. but her father seemed so nice and encouraging of her, i would have loved to seen him more. as well as getting the families together in general. we never got to see jeong-ha meet his mother. and i am so sooooo sour about that. because we all know they would have been the best of friends.

i feel like jeong-ha’s family explains a lot about her approach to things from her living alone and owning a house of her own at a young age. to the way she wanted to hold on to the friendship with hye-jun. to her ending their relationship because she wanted to not be a burden on him. it kind of all fits. and i wish we had more development from her. she constantly mentions that she loves living unpredictably now because hye-jun literally turned her life upside down and made her grow, which she did grow alongside him. but still she was so dead set on not burdening or sharing how she honestly felt that she didn’t allow herself to fully fall in love. but then again it also speaks to what is love to you? is it never depending on your person and doing it all alone because that is all you’ve known, or is is understanding that you both will have hardships and need to be honest with each other to help one another get through those moments in life...unfortunately she did not see it to be the latter.

the siblings here took on an important role in this drama. from hae-hyo’s sister hae-na dating his best dude jin-woo, to gyeong-jun taking on new roles and the family realized hye-jun’s importance. they both came to be extremely important in the family relations and dynamics changing. and i must add that i wish we saw more of the relationship between hae-na and jin-woo because they were cute, and i liked them. also while i’m on my soap box i must say that at the end i was kind of wanting min-jae and gyeong-jun to end up together, because they are seriously opposites and they would make a quirky pairing.

their workplaces were interesting, and i must say that i could have done without all the focus on tae-su, the horrible ex-agent of hye-jun, and his artist do-ha. like we get it you don’t want him to be successful because he dumped you. also could have done with out the focus on the journalist for the tabloid plot like okay we get it you’re out to get our man. you need to get a life. and if we removed these nonsense plots that did not add too much to the overall story of our characters we could have gotten so much more, i.e. a FAMILY DINNER. sorry really just sour about this.

their relationship was soooo cute. i loved how it developed from her being like ‘nah boo you got it wrong i’m not a fan of you’ to finally owning up and being like ‘yeah, honey you’re the one’ to being like ‘i want to stay friends, and not ruin this beautiful thing’ to hye-jun confessing being like ‘you’re my boo’ to them finally together. it was great, i loved it. wish i didn’t get second male lead syndrome so early on, because you could see that hae-hyo liked her too because she was honest and raw compared to all the people around him, kind of like how hye-jun was with him.

but yeah it was a great ride, and i freaking knew the writers would screw over the beautiful story i had in my head and have them break up because their timing was off. but in reality i think it would have been fine. like seriously girl, he is enlisting you will be a better person in 2 years no need to fret saying, it’s not our time i want to be a better person because you’re already a better person. so the double standard she put up was there, because our boo was a nobody when she met him. but you know with that open ended ending i totally say they got back together, had a good ole family dinner, everyone got along great and they lived happily ever after. i did love how they added the same scene again at the closing because he was saying goodbye to us for the time period because he was a part of our ‘record of youth’ just as we were in his.

i must say i kind of liked the time jumps that this drama stacked up. like it was interesting to see the ending the episode prior, then get to see the events from another’s perspective that led to the prior event. kind of liked it in the end. at the start i was really confused, but i caught on eventually. also wish we got more of a time jump into the future with them together, but you can’t always get what you want.

it is also important to mention how much i loved all the guest appearances. like i know that isn’t that important for our characters, but seriously it was uplifting to see the familiar faces every so often in this drama. from park seo-joon, to seo hyun-jin and lee sung-kyung. i thoroughly enjoyed it. also loved seeing the random tidbit of fake dramas that hye-jun was in, like boo i would definitely watch those...

the ost.

‘go’ by my boo seungkwan. we stan because this is literally a gem and i play this all day every day. it’s encouraging and makes me want to smile and jump around.

‘shine on you’ by whee in. this one delivers all the feels from the precious good moments to the tearful moments.

‘what if’ by kim jae hwan. THIS ONE. I LOVE IT. this man’s vocals are stunning, and i loved this one. it was beautifully utilized in the drama to express the special moments that they were having. and made me nostalgic for the past moments they had because they did not realize all they had. and makes you want to treasure the now you’re living in.

‘just you’ by j rabbit. they have such sweet vocals and i loved this dreamy track.

now don’t get me wrong these songs were great, however i would have LOVED a park bo-gum on a track. like seriously. like for real, the voice of an angel would have made a lovely addition.

anyways, i really loved this drama and i tried my best to be cohesive about my thoughts but i’m writing this late the day it ended so i’m still little emotional that it is over. and i shall patiently await for my park bo-gum to come back from enlistment and i shall watch all his dramas once again.

i will also post my weekly play-by-play because i knew i would have a lot of feelings and thoughts to short through with this one. so if you want you can check it out here.

#record of youth #tvN #korean drama #drama #review #2020 #park bo gum #bo gummy #sa hye jun #park so dam #ahn jeong ha #byeon woo seok #won hae hyo #kwon soo hyun #kim jin woo

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ryanmeft · 3 years

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Movie Review: Nomadland

Frances McDormand is unafraid to do things with her face and body that terrify most aging actors. She does not mind that her face is creased, she doesn’t mind that her legs are those of a 63-year-old woman, and she doesn’t mind if, under the tuck of her shirt, you can occasionally see that she has an ordinary stomach. McDormand’s comfort with her own body on camera is essential to the look and feel of Chloe Zhao’s Nomadland. Fern is living rough after the death of her husband and their manufacturing town, and McDormand’s looks reflect life lived not in Hollywood, but in heart of the American west.

In the past few years, there’s een a quiet Civil War going on in America. In the eyes of many, there are only two kinds of people now: those who believe it is a place for many people, and those who believe it is a place only for people who look and think like them. Part of this perspective is that you have no choice to sit this fight out---either you’ve picked a side or, by dearth of a choice, a side has picked you.

Nomadland takes places in 2011, before this stark division exploded into full-on combat, but in many ways it depicts the kind of people who don’t get seen much in these times. It is inspired by a non-fiction book by Jessica Bruder which tells of older Americans hitting the road permanently after the Great Recession. Of course, their world had been ending for a long time. Fern’s specific story begins when the US Gypsum plant in Empire, Nevada closes and takes Empire with it; the introduction informs us the town’s zip code vanished with the factory. We don’t see this happen. We pick up with Fern after she has already hit the road in an RV, working seasonal jobs to make ends meet, going to the bathroom in a bucket, and avoiding getting to know anyone. After all, they’re all gonna be gone eventually.

Unlike the people who sit around and moan about liberals and globalism over beers at the local watering hole, Fern seems to know what world she lives in, and what it means, and exactly how much power she has to change it---that is, none at all. Now let’s talk a little more about Frances McDormand’s face. There is a brief shot in which said face is framed in profile, contrasted with the mountains in the background, and the lines on her face almost seem placed to match those in the distant hills. Her close-cropped hair is a practical necessity that reflects the bare, rocky earth on which her moving home spends most of its time. She is a part of this environment, and she does not hope in vain for the return of a past that is gone. On those occasions when she stops in a place resembling civilization, she doesn’t seem to belong there anymore.

Contrast that with her friend and potential lover David (David Strathairn), who speaks sage wisdom but, unlike Fern, is in a van in the wilderness because he is running from something. His world has not closed behind him, and therefore whatever chance he and Fern might find late-life love seems remote. Fern has experienced something to which few can relate. Cities like Detroit, St. Louis or Youngstown, where American devastation is also a daily story, may not be what they once were, but they’re not going to disappear in our lifetimes. To see not just your personal house but the town you call home dry up and blow away leaves you with scars that relocation can’t fix. David behaves as if this is a minor inconvenience which can be forgotten with his attentions.

Chloe Zhao’s first film, Songs My Brothers Taught Me, perhaps tried a tad hard to replicate the Malick formula, but her second, The Rider, staked her identity as an outsider able to see the reality of the American dream in the 21st century better than most Americans can. Nomadland confirms it. It has just enough touches from the Malick school---patient camera shots that linger, characters whose lives are communicated not through monologues but through body language and surroundings---with a willingness to operate in a real world Malick often refutes. She has also further established her own trademark of casting non-professional actors in roles that are fictionalized versions of their own lives. McDormand and Strathairn have enjoyed long careers, but several of the roles are played by actual nomads. Are they telling their own stories, with Zhao merely turning the camera on them, or stories written for their screen avatars? I cannot say, but they feel authentic.

An underlying question of the film might be: can you simply check out of society? Is that even possible in a modern world long removed from the days of pioneers and treasure hunters? Fern works for Amazon on a seasonal basis, and when she shuffles listlessly through the doors for her shift I thought of so many Bruce Springsteen songs I couldn’t name them all; the omnipresence of that gigantic yellow sign is like the announcement of a king, saying “You can run, but we still own you.” Yet even when she works smaller jobs, such as dishing up fair food at a stall, she is still dependent on society. Her van, her refuge, must be fueled up, she must have food to eat, and she must have clothes to wear. Her divide from us is made most stark when she visits a relative who chose the more settled life, and she listens to real estate brokers talk disparagingly about people who bought houses they couldn’t afford. The comments rile her up---as if those brokers didn’t encourage and fool people into taking such deals, to fuel their own extravagant houses in upscale neighborhoods. It is the most starkly political moment in the film, these predators blaming the prey for getting caught. If that’s what we call society, we can see why Fern wanted no part in it. Verdict: Must-See

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow me on Twitter here, if you want more posts about film and video games and sometimes about hamburgers:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#frances mcdormand #david strathairn #chloe zhao #movies #nomadland

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troofless · 5 years

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Servamp Chapter 85 summary

So, if you read the raws without any context and have no idea of the predicament Kuro is in, now you do! Spoilers under the cut, but that should be obvious.

Many thanks to @svpages for posting the raws of Chapter 85! This chapter focuses solely on where Tsubaki is at the hospital. Yeah, that means no Mikuni vs Tsurugi or more onsen shenanigans…

Chapter starts off with Kuro carrying Mahiru towards the hospital.

Mahiru: I can see it! The hospital!

Kuro: Are you sure Tsubaki really did appear…

- Cue a giant explosion -

Kuro: …We’d better hurry.

(Cue gasp at how much character development Kuro has gone through for him, the Servamp of Sloth, to say those words.)

Cut back to Tooru and Iori facing off against new-makeover-with-abs Tsubaki.

Iori: Where’s [Sloth]?

Tooru: …He’ll be here soon…

Iori says it’s been a while since he’s fought on the frontlines, and laments The Disappearance of Touma Taishi. (Touma, where? This is the second time Iori’s mentioned Touma, Iori really wants you back LOL)

(The first time was last chapter when Iori was all, Tooru YOU’RE LATE if it was Touma he would have been here in 2 minutes, and Tooru was all, well if it was Touma he wouldn’t have come here in the first place!)

Iori mentions that 15 years ago the three of them were known as the Tokyo Branch’s strongest 3 idiots (literally 3 baka). Touma, where.

Then Tsubaki looks at Tooru and says, hmm… you… we’ve met before, haven’t we. Tooru apologises for not introducing himself at the sushi bar (way back in the early chapters of Servamp), since he was hiding his identity as a member of C3 from Mahiru back then.

Tsubaki: Shirota Mahiru’s family…

Next panel is just Tsubaki with a serial killer face: …He, too, must be grieving.

(cue the uh ohs.)

Tooru brandishes a stake not unlike Junichirou’s signature weapon, which Tsubaki comments on as familiar (having being caught in it during the Greed arc), and is Tooru the legimitate user?

Tooru: Junichirou is my chosen successor.

Tooru: The user of Mjolnir (read: this weapon), [The one who captures], Thor…

Tooru: Its predecessor is, I, Shirota Tooru! Because I’m Thor!

Tsubaki: That’s not amusing in the slightest.

Yup, you guessed it, Tooru puns on his name ‘Tooru’ and ‘Thor’ in the same fashion when he and Tsubaki met in the sushi place… To-ru dake ni na! Tanaka Strike even says they’ve been waiting for a long time (8 years) to use this one(1) gag in the manga… I’m so glad it’s finally here.

Iori stops Tsubaki momentarily with his barrier magic, apologising for Tooru’s ‘trademark bad puns’. And because new-makeover-with-abs Tsubaki is apparently an unstoppable force now, he breaks the barrier like it’s nothing. Iori stabs more keys into his arms (which activates his magic) but Tsubaki just button-mashes the slice-and-dice button and shatters them into pieces.

Iori, again, laments the disappearance of Touma. Touma, where?

Next, it’s Uncle Tooru’s turn to cast a giant magic spell. His first words are “Look at me, children of the sun.” The rest are too confusing to translate. Something about a castle, and a hero. Tsubaki tries to interrupt his spellcasting because no good demon king waits for the hero to finish casting a giant spell of mass destruction, but is blocked by Iori’s barriers.

Tooru raises his stake, and a swirl of lightning appears on its tip, and he ends the spell with: “My name is… THE THUNDER GOD.” Or the God of Thunder, whichever one you like. In Japanese, that's raijin, which also serves as the chapter’s title. Which is also a reference to Thor, the god of hammers thunder, if you didn’t catch that.

The end of the stake transforms into a giant hammer, and he slams it down on Tsubaki, shouting a fancy Japanese move name. And here’s the kicker: Because it’s Tooru, it’s full of puns too. The furigana 'Lion Reign’ is written in English, and the kanji 雷音礼印. In Japanese, separately, each kanji would read something like: rai/on/rei/in, which would sound, in Japanese, when read, like Lion Reign. Yeah. Translated to English the kanji would read thunder/sound/gratitude/stamp (like those you put on a document). Considering that he’s smashing that hammer down on Tsubaki like a rubber stamp I’d say Tanaka Strike’s choice of kanji is pretty spot-on. Tanaka Strike is a chuuni confirmed?

But of course, remember how Tsubaki got buffed up to cheat-level status? He catches Tooru’s hammer in one hand, and goes, “Oh, let me return the favour.” and stabs Tooru right in the stomach with his black katana. Smooth.

Tooru shouts for Iori to run but before he can even move Tsubaki slashes Iori in the chest as well.

Cue Mahiru and Kuro to arrive on scene. Mahiru, of course, cries, “Uncle!” and goes to his side. Kuro and Tsubaki have a glaring face-off. Mahiru keeps crying out “Uncle… Uncle Tooru…” but Tooru doesn’t reply, lying prone facedown on the ground. He’s been stabbed in the chest, after all.

Tsubaki: Hey there, nii-san.

Kuro comments on how Tsubaki’s gone too far in his mischief or something. This part’s a little unclear to me, to be honest. Tsubaki responds with ‘Is that so?’, ‘Because they’re human, they die when they are cut (the kanji for behead is used here for the word cut)’. (is this a fate reference)

Tsubaki addresses Mahiru, talking about how when you can’t save a life that’s about to die, you feel sad. Because it’s the life of a person that you treasure, you want to do something about it, right? An extremely universal and natural emotion. There’s nothing wrong with thinking that way. Right?

Tsubaki and Kuro get another face-off panel. We all know there’s a buildup. Something big is coming. And here it is:

Tsubaki: Hey, nii-san. Right now, Shirota Mahiru (furigana reads: your precious friend) is wishing for his dying family to continue to live for eternity.

“How about you bring back his uncle’s life by turning him into your subclass? He’s counting on you.”

“What will you do?”

And the caption at the side reads, “The cruelty… of Tsubaki!” Zankoku, like in A Cruel Angel’s Thesis, but I’m digressing.

…And dang, those last few lines were hard to translate. Tsubaki’s original words are more of the lines of ‘Why don’t you turn him into your subclass, and connect his life together (??? the word for ‘tie’ is used here, like string)? I’m/We’re/He’s (no subject here) relying/depending on you here…’

So, will Kuro break his vow of not making subclasses? Or will Tooru not die when he is killed and continue to live on? tfw when you bust out a super special move but the last boss takes no damage and one-shot kills you

#Servamp #Servamp spoilers #Servamp Chapter 85 #sweet #troofless stuff #my translation #it's long so yay?

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shi-daisy · 4 years

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New Beginnings

Hello again my fellow shippers! Today's day three of Ulquihime week and I'm not gonna lie, this theme was giving me a bit of trouble, since I had an idea for it but used it last year with another prompt. So instead I just made a sort of sequel to that particular entry. If you don't want to go back and read that one I'll just give you a mini summary here.

Basically this is a canon divergent AU in which Orihime dosen't marry Ichigo and runs away from the wedding when she finds out he's not truly in love with her. After her escape she reunited with Ulquiorra and he helped calm her down. That's where the first prompt ended. So here's what would happen after. Hope you all like!

@ulquihimeweek

Ulquihime Week- Day 3- Reunion/Caught

New Beginnings

"Ulquiorra, you've been glued to that phone for almost three hours now. Please stop before you go blind." Halibel chided him.

"Leave him be Hali, he's still waiting for pet-sama to reply," Nnoitra told her. The comment earned him a cushion to the face, courtesy of Zommari.

"All of you be quiet! I am not waiting for a reply. Orihime answered already."

"Would ya look at that, Ulquiorra's finally getting some!"

Once he silenced Nnoitra with cushions Ulquiorra went back to the chat. It had been almost a month since he last saw Orihime.

After she ran away from her wedding and they met by chance, he had allowed her to spend the night in his house. The next day one of her friends came to pick her up, and the redhead promised to keep in touch with him. He hadn't seen her personally since, but they messaged each other very often. Last week however, the messages had abruptly stoped, and he'd gotten worried.

Today those worries ended, as Orihime not only wrote to him but she asked to meet him in a cafe tomorrow.

"She says she's got a surprise. Should that be concerning?"

Halibel was standing nearby. She chuckled at the question. "Not really. I'm sure she's just happy to finally see you. From what you tell me, the girl needed comfort desperately."

"I'm still enraged at Kurosaki for what he did. A part of me wants to get revenge."

"That's not gonna be possible. Unless you want to get smashed against the wall again." His friend replied sarcastically.

"A small price to pay, but the woman told me not to get in 'trouble' for her sake. So I won't interfere unless she asks."

"Good. It's nice to know someone in this house isn't a reckless moron." The green-eyed blonde glared at Nnoitra, who rolled his eyes.

"I only tried to fight a cop one time!"

Ulquiorra decided to ignore the bickering and concentrate on hid phone. Being a human might've gotten easier, but not dealing with his old comrades.

***

"Now remember, be nice, let her speak but don't stay too quiet, and for the love of all that's good just ask her out properly."

Halibel and Szayel had been helping him get ready for the meeting. Ulquiorra was still nervous, but he hoped for the best.

"You two are going to ruin his chances of scoring. He looks like he came out of a band Tesla likes."

"Says the man who looks like the lovechild of a sewer goblin and Slenderman." Szayel didn't even turn to look at Nnoitra as he finished brushing Ulquiorra's hair'. "Done! Now the princess won't take her eyes off of you."

"Thank you Szayel, thank you Halibel."

"At your service!"

"I'll get going then, I want to be early for our meeting."

"Just make sure that if you bring the cutie home, you put a sock in the door."

Ulquiorra ignored Nnoitra's comment. Letting Szayel deal with him.

"I'm beginning to understand why I am the only one with a boyfriend here," Szayel commented. "You need an intervention, Jirga."

"Me? You're the one dating Starrk!"

As the bickering began Ulquiorra headed for the door and waved goodbye to Halibel.

The cafe was near his house, and from what he could see it was not too busy. Orihime's hadn't arrived yet. He picked a table and was ready to sit down, until he noticed someone skating right towards him.

"Watch out!"

He recognized Orihime's voice, and caught her before she could crash into him.

"Orihime?"

"Hi Ulquiorra! It's been a while. You look great!"

When she smiled Ulquiorra went speechless. He recovered quickly, and let her sit with him.

"I take it you work here?"

"Yes. My friend Riruka is the manager and I've been working here for a week now. That's why it took me a bit to reply, sorry if you were worried."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you've found a job you like. The uniform suits you as well."

"Really? I didn't think black was my color."

"To be fair, you look good in any clothes."

Orihime blushed from the compliment. "Thank you. So, what have you been up to? Are the others still around?"

He sighed. "Regrettably so, Cyan and Tesla moved out a while ago, and if Starrk proposes to Szayel soon then it's likely they'll move out as well."

Orihime giggled. "I know they drive you mad sometimes but I'd love to live in house that lively."

"Tell me that after you spent a week with Nnoitra as a roommate. Speaking of which, are you still rooming with Arisawa-san?"

"Not exactly, Tatsuki-chan is traveling due to competitions, but she did leave me the apartment. Once I get a place of my own I'll move out, being on Karakura it's a little draining."

He knew what she referred to, it was clear in her voice. Ulquiorra found it hard to hide his rage, still, he managed to calm down.

"You know that if you cannot stand to stay in Karakura any longer, you're more than welcome to stay with me."

"I know, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. But when I finally settle in Naruki, I want it to be on my own. I can't keep depending on others forever. Besides, you dealt with enough of my crying, that night, already."

Yes, that fateful night when they met again. It was supposed to be her wedding that to the man she loved, and instead, all she could do was cry.

And yet, a part of him was happy things turned out the way they did. That he got to see her again, and even establish a friendship. 'But at what cost? This isn't what she wanted and you know it.'

"Ulquiorra? Are you ok?"

Orihime must've noticed his change in mood, so he hid it away yet again. "I'm fine."

"You're thinking about the day we met again, aren't you?"

"My apologies. You probably don't even want to think about that night but I can't seem to let it go.

It's selfish of me to be happy about this when you lost the man you loved."

Orihime put her hand over his. "Ulquiorra, you're not the only one who's happy things turned out this way.

I did love Ichigo, and I was fully ready to marry him, I gave up college and internships to stay in Karakura with him, but he burned that away in just a moment. I refuse to be the one grieving.

He's the one who lost out on a devoted loving wife. Let him carry the grief if he has any at all.

I'm immensely happy to have gotten out when I did. My life's not going to be wasted on a loveless marriage, and I'm happy that you're a part of my new life. So don't be angry on my behalf."

Ulquiorra smiled. "I've always known you were a strong woman, but this is far more than I expected. You've grown a lot Orihime. You should be proud."

"Thank you. It’s nice to know that someone thinks of me as such.” Orihime smiled. “Now, let’s go onto more cheerful matters. I got you a gift! Here!"

She handed him a small dark blue box, Ulquiorra opened it to find a replica of the bracelet he had given her when they were enemies, only this bracelet was made to fit him.

"Do you like it? It's not real silver but it matches the one I have. So we can both wear them at the same time."

In the past six years he'd been a human Ulquiorra never felt moved to cry, until now. "I shall treasure it forever. Thank you." He immediately put it on, the bracelet was a perfect fit. "Now, I'll be the one to spoil you for a while."

***

The evening only had so many hours, but he intended to make good use of them all. After having a nice dinner at the cafe, he took Orihime to the movies. It was about a SciFi story he had yet to read, but seeing how happy Orihime was while watching he knew he made the right choice. After that he let her pick the activity.

"We could go skating. Would you like that?"

"I have no problems with that, but aren't you tired of skating at work?"

"Not really, I love doing it. Besides it's different when you skate carrying food and when you do it with a partner."

"Alright then, let's go to the skate park."

Relief washed over him when the park was almost empty. Truth to be told Ulquiorra wasn't proficient at any sport, including skating.

While Orihime was busy putting on her skates, he went over to nearby post and got a bouquet of hibiscus flowers.

When he got back she was done with her skates and had tied her orange hair into pigtails. He thought she looked even cuter.

"Here. I thought it would be fair to get you a gift as well." Ulquiorra handed her the bouquet.

Orihime was almost gentle when holding the flowers. She took a deep breath, enjoying the secent. "They're gorgeous, thank you. How did you know this was my favorite flower?"

"They're the flower on your headpins."

"True. I like that you always notice things like that. It's one of your best traits."

That made him flustered. It didn't matter how much time they spent together he would never get used to Orihime's cute compliments.

Once the the two were ready they headed for the track and began skating. His balance wasn't the best but thankfully he didn't slip.

"Ulquiorra."

"Yes?"

"Thanks for tonight. It's been the most fun I've had in a while."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, that almost made him fall. Orihime held on tightly to him.

"Caught ya!" she chuckled. "You don't skate much, do you?"

"Busted. I rarely do anything sporty. Although that's likely to change."

"Really?"

"Yes. If I am going to be spending time with you, I'll learn in no time."

"Are you asking me out?"

"I am. Would you accept this invitation?"

"Yes, absolutely."

#uhweek2019 #Ulquihime #orihime x ulquiorra #orihime inoue #ulquiorra schiffer #Reunion AU

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storytimewithwolf-blog · 5 years

Text

Notes from a first time DM

Hi! I’ve been a DM for a year now, and here’s some things that I learned during the whole process!

When you’ve been appointed with this status (Divine Master, Dungeon Master, ect.) it’s important to remember that the people you’re DMing for want an adventure. It’s your job as the DM to determine if the people you’re with want a serious adventure, or a silly adventure.

If it’s a serious one, there’s really no harm in putting in a few silly points, and vice versa with a silly campaign. What’s important is the flow of the campaign, and all the connecting dots.

As a published writer with a degree in this stuff, it’s also important to note that just because you yourself don’t have a writing degree, or have been published or something, doesn’t mean that you don’t have the chops to be a DM. You need to remember that D&D is suppose to be fun—if you’re not having fun, then something’s wrong. Evaluate what’s wrong, albeit party members, story, or just overall gameplay and adjust when necessary.

If you’re having problems with party members, take a moment and assess the situation. Are the players not getting how to play? Are the players being jerks to everyone else? Are the players not wanting to cooperate with each other? There are a lot of things to take into consideration.

If the players aren’t getting how to play (first time players, new edition, ect.) take some time to go over the game mechanics with them. I had two first-time players in my large group and had to sit down with them and explain how things went. The rest of the group also helped in them understanding how to make checks, role play, and just general game play.

However, once they knew how to play (with some questions here and there), they weren’t active in the game. At first, I thought this was a problem on my end. Am I not doing something right? Why aren’t they more active in playing the game? I asked a DM group on facebook this question because I genuinely believed it was my fault that something was wrong—like I wasn’t adhering to their needs. Turns out, (after a few mean comments too) that it was more ‘some people play D&D differently’. I realized that just because they weren’t role playing like everyone else didn’t mean that they were a problem—it meant that they were doing what was most comfortable to them. Essentially, as Matt Coville put it, they were ‘audeince members’—meaning that they wanted to play, but they wanted to watch more than anything. I hadn’t experienced people like that before, and that’s okay!

If you have a player that’s being a jerk to everyone (either in game ‘because that’s what my character would do’, or in real life), take them aside. I had to talk to a player of mine because, since he’d played D&D in the past and knew how to do everything, he thought that he needed to dictate what others did. Just because you’ve played before doesn’t mean that you can have wide-access to the whole party/picture. If your player’s character is being a jerk (and they give you that ‘it’s my character excuse’) again, take them aside. Regardless of whether these problems are happening in-game or not, it doesn’t give that person a right to make the game miserable for everyone else. Weigh the pros and cons. Don’t be afraid to tell them to leave. If they can’t behave, then don’t tolerate it. I have zero fucks to give if you’re doing this to others.

Are your players not working well together? This one’s harder—I’ve only had this happen a few times, and generally it’s mostly just because some people want other things, and that they don’t work well with others. It’s really dependent on the people—when I brought my group together, I felt that they would get along pretty well—there were some bumps along the way, people had to learn to tolerate each other, but otherwise the game’s been going alright. In this situation, it really depends on the people, and what’s happening in game. I made several situations early on that depended on everyone working together to get through and progress the story. They HAD to work together. The end goal was fairly easy to get to. The situation called for everyone to do X and then they’d get to Y. Sometimes, people need to know what they need to do in order to do it right.

But is it the story that’s being a problem? I really like the fact that Wizards of the Coast makes pre-set campaigns. But homebrew’s a bit different. And a story can really make or break a homebrew. I’m no expert, but really polishing a story is everything. Even if the idea starts off as a turd—polish that thing until it shines. I’ll have story ideas stored away for years, waiting until something makes sense or is just better than when it originated in my head. The one thing that I’ve found that really sets stories apart is the pacing, and for D&D, I’ve found that a steady pace is fine. But with what I’ve done, I’ve given my players certain story markers—points of emphasis that make them want to get to the next one. Oh, you guys are in the Witch’s Burn? Figure out what happened. Oh, you’ve figured out what’s happened? Good for you! Now go where you need to go, get there, and something else’ll happen!

This isn’t always the way—sometimes my pacing really depends on how fast my players get through things. But pacing is definitely important. You can’t have every session be amazing—that’s too demanding on you (DM), and too high of expectations for the players to have of you. Slow sessions are required for them to want to get to the big events.

If you’ve found that your story is the problem, ask your players what they think could be better, write down what you think could be improved, and work from there. It’s okay to take a week (or whatever time needed) to get your story straight and take a session or two off.

It’s also essential to read-up or at least respond quickly with improv. Sometimes (most of the fucking time) my players will do something I didn’t anticipate, and I’ll have to act out a scene for them. This isn’t always bad—improv is what got my players started on their first main quest.

When we first started, everything was standard fair-- they (for the most part) met in a small town and rallied together to fight off some bandits. Once they had united themselves, the real adventure started. I created a somewhat long-term NPC that helped me determine what kind of characters my players had chosen to be, and got them going on some standard stuff. The NPC is my sweet birb son aarakocra cleric who was one of those guys who’s optimistic about everything and is genuinely very nice. Once they interacted with Crae, I got to understanding my player’s characters more and devised situations around their characters, whether it was something to their backstory or just to see how they would respond. What I didn’t expect was that they took a simple story hook and decided to run with it.

They had come to a simple fisherman’s village, saw a small sea serpent thrashing about and went into action. When one of them went into the water they saw a silver casket and decided to push the heavy thing to shore, killed the serpent and determined that the casket was the thing that had made the serpent go nuts. THEN. Two of them decided ‘oh, let me put my blood on this thing.’ like idiots. (especially considering one of them was a VAMPIRE). Nothing happened. The next day they left and as they were about an hour away they heard a loud explosion, looked back, saw a big plume of smoke that raced across the sky, took the shape of a corpse’s face (very Mummy-esq) and screamed at them as it headed elsewhere. They decided, ‘oh, time to chase after smoke-face’.

Now, I should’ve expected that they chase after the smoke-face, but for whatever reason I didn’t. It then became a game of, create backstory from improv. Which actually worked out for the better. (I may write up a post later explaining all of their shenanigans).

In this case, smoke-face was the villain (haha maybe), along with several other people that worked for him, and their main quest became to rescue a goddess that had gone missing.

All of this is homebrew. The only thing that I used as influence was the story hook of the ‘ornate silver casket’ that they dredged up out of the ocean. This came from a pdf called ‘50 rumors and hooks’ specifically for D&D use, everything else concerning the major story came from myself. Smaller bits, like a cape that had a treasure map stitched into the inside, or the funny ‘sword of emotions’ are things that I’ve used in passing. Use those little hooks and things that you find online, and make them your own.

Now, I take very brief notes in my notebook when writing out certain things (I prefer to write them because I’ll remember them easier than if I type it out). For major and minor cities, I’ll write out the name of the place, important places like inns, brothels, and such, the names of the place, who runs the place, their name, sex and race, and how much the place costs. I’ll write out other shops as well, and typically make a short list of the items and such that they can buy (or use one of those nifty random generators). The townhall, the law-master, and if there’s any jobs in the area, how much gold can be made, and write out either what the jobs needs, and set a DC if it needs one. If the job involves an encounter, I’ll write out briefly what it is, weapons, spells, creature/enemy AC, and any kind of special actions that they can do.

From there I’ll briefly write out plot points, and as you’ll see, most of what I do is based on improv. By this time I’ve memorized the characters that I’m playing and go into actor-mode and can make decisions based on their personalities, the situation, and whatever else. I’ve also memorized the setting and story so there’s not much that I have to look up. Typically, everything I need is in short-hand.

However, for major plot points, I’ll write things out (hopefully chronologically, if not I’ll put numbers by what needs to happen first and go from 1-10). Then, if a situation requires certain dialogue (like, you’ve got something really FUCKING COOL, that really noice line that just makes a situation), I’ll write it down. Now, for these major points, a lot of them essentially act as cut-scenes unless otherwise stated. I imagine that some people and players probably don’t like this, but that’s how I run my game, and so far my players like it.

What I also do, because I’m a dramatic bitch, is that I use music in my games. I like Sword Coast Soundscapes for their background ambience, and Peter Gundry for a lot of basic music needs. I have several different playlists I use, and they all run between an hour and three hours. I have music laid out before hand. Now, if it’s a major plot point, either for the story or a single player, I’ll look at my itunes and figure out what songs would be appropriate for the situation and have them laying in waiting. This has helped me enhance the feeling of certain plot point to the point where it just feels nice to have something playing in the background. It also feels more important if I use certain music for scenes and gives my players the notion that what’s happening is important.

For encounters, as I stated earlier, I have basic outlines. If it’s an encounter that’s simple like some bandits, I don’t go into too much detail—write out their HP, AC, weapons, stats, spells, and anything else if necessary, like treasure (if applicable). If it’s a big boss monster, I’ll add other things that the creature/enemy can do, (like legendary actions, or lair actions), and generally their HP will be pretty up there. (the Furnace Elk actually was at 350 HP in the end).

I also have a smaller notebook that has basics in, like the schools of magic and what they do. Just to remind me of either game rules, basics, or my own homebrew that I sometimes forget.

In terms of your homebrew, there’s a lot to consider: What’s the political status? Are we at war? Peace? Why are we in war/peace? Who’s the enemy/ally? Who’s the royal family? Does your country have a royal family? What does your country value most? What are the most common races? What does the land look like? Is it Medieval Europe-esq, or it is more like the early Middle East? Is there a pantheon of gods and goddesses? Are they original or from the book? What’s the military look like? What’s the relationship with the rest of the world (if any)? Is there discrimination? Is the country mostly poor? Certain landmarks?

What I do, is I write out a brief summary of what my continent has been through recently, and then go from there. I describe the different kingdoms, what they value (knowledge, power, ect.), what the royal family is like, their brief history, royal crests, military, most common races, and any big points. For instance, the kingdom of Thelinde was tried for war crimes against another continent because they wanted the resources and did anything they could to get them. When one of their allies found out, that kingdom backed out, essentially costing Thelinde the war. Connect kingdoms and see if their actions either for or against make anything significant happen. Embargoes, treaties, trade-agreements—does any of this happen? Currently or in the past?

Now, I use a lot of resources. Like that pdf I mentioned earlier, I have files printed for political situations, how short-term vs. long-term madness works, lingering injury sheets, road encounter generator, city activities, trinket generators, tarot cheat-sheet, language scripts—fuck I even made a calendar.

Oh, but what about the players? Funny you should ask! Within the first month of playing the game, while everyone was figuring things out, I asked everyone for a few things: tell me 2 truths, 2 lies, and 1 half-truth/lie about your character. These’ll be used later in game whenever they get to certain situations. I.E. they encounter family, friends, enemies, or just ordinary townsfolk who happen to know who that person is. It’s fun to create a certain kind of discord and if person A is referred to in a not nice way, the rest of the characters have to make a judgement about person A—is that the truth? Is it a lie? Why would that peasant say that? Should we ask? It ends up making certain people either seem better or worse than everyone’s expectations and realities.

I also require basic backstories. Some of my players went WELL over what they needed to do, and it put me in an unusual spot—they said this about their backstory, and that this happens, and so the future looks like this.

I really don’t like that, your players shouldn’t give you anything about how their want future events to be—but at the same time, I can change it up a bit—still give them what they want, but in a way they didn’t expect. That can’t be said for all situations, but for a few I’ve made it work. But again, no future stuff. They can have hopes and aspirations—but don’t give me anything that would already make me think of an end for your character. That’s no fun if you already know what’s up.

And the lies/truths is something that helps create events for the characters. One character was discharged from the military for a severe injury, but she doesn’t remember a thing. The only thing she really knows is that her entire platoon was killed except for her, their captain. So if she returns to her hometown, or the military hospital she was in, people will probably not be very kind to her, knowing their she may be the one responsible for their child’s death.

Players not knowing what’s going to happen is wonderful. It puts, as a friend of mine would say ‘The fear of God’ in their bones. Either this thing that’s happening is really good, really bad, or really cool. I’ll ask everyone but a certain player to leave the room to do a one-on-one scene (with music generally), and draw out an event that I’ve had planned. These usually don’t last longer than 20 minutes, and probably shouldn’t go on any longer than that.

For instance, the same character who was discharged from the military doesn’t realize that the arm she can no longer feel, will eventually try and strangle her in her sleep, and that she doesn’t belong in the world she’s in. And if she can survive her own body trying to kill her, then maybe she can figure out what these clues she’s been given are.

NPC’s? They can be really fun, and can even be the center point to a whole quest! Crae, who I mentioned earlier, became a favorite of my players because he was such a good good boy. And when he left everyone was very sad because he’d become so memorable, and because he’d saved their skins a few times too. Also he had an interesting backstory that really, only one of my players found out. Things are still happening to him across the world, and my players may just have to get on a boat and help him—otherwise a civil war may just find him.

But for now, take the character Lorna. She’s a courtesan, who is drop-dead gorgeous, a wonderful singer and dancer, and has a way with sex. She’s fully in control of herself and became pivotal to the main quest. She was the one my players needed to rescue—they just didn’t know it! And frankly, neither did she. All they knew was that they picked up a traveller and then things happened, and my players realized the gravity of the situation: keep Lorna safe or something terrible will happen. Get the help of the trickster god Bremin, get her to Point A, have an old flame/enemy show up, kidnap her, rescue her from said douche, get her to Point B, tell her a few things that she doesn’t know/realize, and then get her to Point C. In the end, Lorna’s become more reserved, which is something I didn’t expect, and she may not like where her new life will lead. But keeping her safe, and keeping her from destroying people is what my players agreed to do.

I am by no means an expert on D&D—the first experience I had with it was with a small group of friends and we only played around four games. After that there was a big dry spell, during that time I became very depressed, even suicidal. Everything around me was bad, and the only thing that really kept me going was my dog. Suddenly, I found a podcast called ‘The Adventure Zone,’ and started to listen. Almost instantly, my mood became better, I talked more often to friends, and made new ones. Then I found ‘Critical Role’, and listened to them, and love them!

What’s really important, and maybe what my point here is, is that little things like playing a game can be a big game changer—last year a friend of mine said that I’d be a really good DM, and mostly because he had already been a DM and just wanted to play. I gathered a group, and created a one-shot (which actually had to go on for two sessions), and after that, I created and played out my first campaign. D&D really helped me get out of a big depression, I still have bouts and I know I’ll never fully be cured of depression, but D&D has literally saved my life. It’s little things like that that make things okay again.

#dungeons and dragons #d&d #d&d 5e #d&d 5e homebrew #dungeon master #notes #roleplay #homebrew #wizards of the coast #dnd beyond #long post #long reads

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