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chiropteracupola · 5 months

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tagged in '20 questions for fic writers' by the esteemed @verecunda — thank you very much!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

62.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

102,035.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

at the moment, I think Sharpe, Flight of the Heron, and Kidnapped are getting most of my attention? altho' there are of course quite a few others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you'd be my best friend, you'd be my lady (Hornblower)

sleep in it slowly (if you can) (Hornblower)

illuminating all, in time (Hornblower TV)

here in your arms is cured (Kidnapped)

as in a mirror dimly (The Mummy 1999)

...huh. that is not what I thought the top five were going to be. but then again, I think a lot of the work that I myself like better is both newer and more niche, so I guess that does make sense.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I typically respond to comments on fics I posted after April 2022, which is when I started replying to comments. not sure why that's my routine but either way it's what it is.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hm, a lot of breaking left to do, perhaps, being as it's just solidly Horatio Hornblower Is Sorrowful right from one end to the other. I'd lean toward this one rather than any of what I've written on the theme of being lost in undeath, even though there are quite a few more of those (and better written ones to boot!), since I tend to end those with something calm and a little restful even in decay.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that's probably got to go to Shaking Off Our Shadows, which is basically two thousand words to the effect of 'what if these two fellows from a very grim book full of disease and death and ruin and general misery had a really nice beach epilogue wherein Everything Was Fine.'

8. Do you get hate on fics?

eh, I've gotten a few weird comments on one, mostly people voicing their hatred for one of the characters it's about. I personally think it's all very silly to come to the doorstep of a fellow who likes to write about romantic dissection and say that a kiss exchanged with mutual interest but without previous discussion is 'fucked'. methinks the problem lies not with me.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

...on occasion. not a great deal of it has actually made it into finished fic at present, mostly because I'm not very confident with specificity in those matters, and so it's more likely to be heavily metaphoricized (see above about the romantic dissection...)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

most of them are things that I'll draw about or merely ponder rather than writing, but a particularly silly one that I've actually gotten some words in on is Hornblower and Animorphs — look, if the Animorphs team is canonically at Trafalgar, I don't think I have a choice but to crack open a space to play with in the Age of Sail!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

as far as I know, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

a few of my RLS-based ones have been translated into Russian!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

sort of! when it comes to actually both writing in the same document, no, but the larger expanse of Flintlock Fortress is done in close collaboration with @dxppercxdxver, and we're discussing a great deal even if we're actually writing on separate parts of the story.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I think when it comes to sheer years-long staying power, that badge has to go to Livesey/Trelawney.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I really would like to finish some of my earlier Treasure Island and Hornblower attempts, like the selkie au and the tattoo-sorcery story. I was definitely biting off more than I could chew plot-wise at the time and I'm more confident writing at length now, but I really don't have a ton of enthusiasm for the almost complete rewrites those stories would need to feel right to me, and so probably not.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I really do pride myself on my ability to Describe poetically and to spin an interesting sentence. enough of my fics are extended versions of things that I couldn't make work as a single drawing that that's become quite an important thing for me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plots, and overall forming a story to have a solid structure and not just be a vaguely interesting selection of scenes... and I'm definitely not very good at imitating authorial voice, even when I'm trying very hard to do so.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

like most everything, it's good when done with intention — I really wish I'd gotten quite good enough at Latin to do what I'd been intending and write some Hornblower fic entirely in Latin.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I'd guess Stand Still Stay Silent, altho' I never ended up finishing any of the stories I began, and that was long before I had such a thing as an ao3 account (or even my current file-keeping system,) so where that all ended up I've got no clue at all.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

well, I think it's got to be the wormsfic... I'm just beyond proud of it even in its currently unfinished state and I think it's excellent proof of the fact that I've actually grown as a writer over the last few years.

and I shall tag... @dxppercxdxver, @cedarboots, @baronetcoins, @kigiom, @bishakespeares, and @lacomandante, if you're interested?

#one of those tag things #these were fun to ponder!

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booksandchainmail · 1 year

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Pale 7.x

“I’m not really very drunk,” she told him, sitting down beside him, and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m other things. If you’re tapped out, you and I could retire upstairs. Work out the leftover restlessness and adrenaline of the day.”

OKAY. DID NOT SEE THAT COMING. big win for people who ship their teachers I guess? Though I'm assuming from the "Before" header that this is a flashback

Larry Bristow laughed at something.

I could have been calling him Larry this whole time...

Here, in a bar, late at night, the group of them gathered, her slightly inebriated, tired self was akin to a tiger stretched out in a sunbeam. The claws so easily protruded as she stretched.

... hot

Luisa Crowe choked on her drink.

don't think we've heard of her before. Or of any family members.

Just a week or two off of her latest hunt, she was willing and wanting to track down this Blue Heron Throne god, while Alexander did the legwork to bring them all together.

So this is how the school got founded. It's so weird to see them all friendly and relaxed together

Thoughtful and lost in thought. He was hard to get to know, and much of that had to be done not by reaching out or studying him, but by studying what he offered and what he asked, when he finally decided what he could ask that might be a good question. Seeking validation and respect in the opposite way to how Larry did. Too subtle, instead of too forced.

keeping this in mind as an analysis of Charles. Strange to think of him socializing with this circle of other practitioners. Does he miss any of them?

Charles looked bewildered. “I mean I’m not a threat, I’m willing to help but… I know how cutthroat practitioner society can be, and I imagine hollywood or any other high society is the same. I’d rather keep my throat intact.”

didn't really work out for him huh

“Smart,” Alexander said. “I don’t think I’d have it in me to hold back on revenge.”

Luisa looked troubled, like she was going to say something, but she was interrupted.

think I understand why Luisa didn't stick around with this group

“There is no police force governing us. We’re still, generally speaking, in a wild west of practice,” Alexander said. “If you don’t act with prejudice, you’re setting precedent.”

I think setting a precedent of not using overwhelming lethal force is a good thing

“Charles,” Larry said. “When we were mid-job, you mentioned these special Others.” “Others, bound by rules, get certain leeway. If they must ask questions or must do certain things, like a revenant having a very specific path laid out before it, that’s… in our analogy of a bank heist, it’s the drill. It’s more solid, it has more force.”

I wonder if this applies to any of the Kennet Others?

"Figurines were soaked into the muck. I want one, but failing that, I want it gone.”

I'm assuming that this will unbind a goddess Durocher draws on for power? Would that just weaken her, or would the goddess then be out for revenge?

The Kennet trio send friendly Others home. He waited, studying the photograph for details. The inscription was telling. The phrasing. Not unsummoning, not releasing. Just… sending them home.

wild practitioners!

Black ink bled into the photograph, taking on three dimensions in the scene. “Abandonment,” Alexander said. “A connection severed.”

what will this do? Just pick a random connection to sever? Most obvious would be to each other, but I think that would need more effort. The word "abandonment" makes me think about their families though, and I'm concerned that how much they've been using connection blockers might backfire

A few out in these woods, like Lucy Ellingson, who was going for a walk, now severed from critical connections. They wouldn’t renew.

which critical connections?! all of them? Connections this could potentially touch on: Avery and Verona, her family, Kennet Others, people at the school. The last two don't feel critical necessarily (annoying but the other two can help). I'm worried that this will just have people forget about her entirely, hopefully not everyone and not irreversibly.

“The first option is that you tell me everything I want to know, then die by your own hand. The second option is that you Awaken fully to this world and swear undying fealty to me in the process.”

these are bad options

He jerked, and for a moment, saw only stars, heard only raucous noise. His eyes rolled up and his head turned skyward.

umm

“Go home,” John Stiles told him.

why is john suddenly here??? I guess he wasn't mentioned when Alexander spied on the girls sending people home, so maybe he's doing a search of the woods first?

“Yeah. I won’t say anything. I could help with the body, and the crime scene.”

did John kill Alexander?! I thought the bits at the end of the last section (jerking, head dropping, kneeling) was Alexander preparing some practice, but did he just get shot?

... hilarious if so. What a way to go, in the middle of his dramatic scheming

“His head-” Lucy said. “It’s gone. Cracked open.” She sounded so much like a kid.

Lucy is getting so much gun violence-related trauma

John walked, long, quick steps, until he stood between her and the body. He put a hand out to steady her, to keep her from pulling away or moving to a point where she could keep looking.

and I'm glad he's looking out for her. Honestly, John becoming Lucy's familiar is looking like a better thing the more we see

“It protects Kennet,” she said. She was still shaky, but she stepped back so she could meet John’s eyes. “That’s my responsibility.”

I mean it's messed-up to have a kid taking on that level of responsibility, but I do love this

“I was thinking about him being my familiar.” John remained standing where he was. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear this, but… “…Not so much anymore.”

oh. Or that. I suppose the corollary to having John as her familiar would mean she wouldn't have to personally do violence is that a lot of problems would be getting solved violently in front of her

... I wonder if that was the connection that Alexander severed

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

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ask-no151 · 2 years

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[sweeps away dust over here or a minute] what's up nerds, the blog turns 10 today. i'd been considering for months whether i wanted to plan out and make Some Big Comeback(tm) to commemorate it or just have a general munday type of thing or it, but honestly!! idk, brainspace is still weird, better to not force Big Plans if my heart's not totally in it

i've been on the fence with all my blogs for like a while now honestly, and while a part of me doesn't want to drop them completely, i'm also like. really not enthusiastic about working on things just because of Reasons. aside from not really being satisfied with how i've let a lot of things here, i'm also really not as fond of pokemon as a franchise as i used to be (i'd say the way i feel about it right now is at its absolute lowest, lmao) and for the most part i've been enjoying giving myself different outlets and picking and doodling my own personal projects without feeling limited to Just Drawing These Guys or being pressured by some ethereal feeling of expectation looming over my shoulder. plus i've graduated college and am continuing schooling! so that's something, at least

i'm really glad to see how far this community's grown, though, even if i personally haven't been taking an active part in things for a while now. the amount of creativity i see flowing is just really heartwarming, and seeing new and old peeps on the dash is always nice on the times i check over here once in a blue moon

this isn't really a "goodbye" or anything, since i would like to... eventually... get something done on this end or on heron's blog when my brain isn't in such a weird place regarding askblogging, but! it just felt weird to not do anything for this place's anniversary

#ooc #10 whole years though! goddamn #if you still want to send asks abt stuff over here feel free! i'll treat it like a mini munday #but otherwise yeah! y'all are doing great! i've seen so many cool blogs come and go and ongoing ones still going strong!#also just... casually turns off reblogs #this is an anni post it really doesn't warrant being spread around lmao

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cepheusgalaxy · 4 months

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I... something's weird

My mom started using the pronouns I asked her to a while ago... and it doesn't feel right? Like, probably it is because I'm not that used to it so I need a period of adaptation... but what if it's not? Like, my disphoria did't come that much from pronouns but I still don't wanna use she/her... or do I? Do I really wanna use he/him or I'm just going along with the "boy = he/him" logic??? I've tried they/them some times too... but it felt so bad. But thinking of it now, it may be becaude I always heard it with sarcasm? As a joke. As an insult. I also love my mom, and I know she's trying to help... but she keeps reminding me that its hard to keep up when I change pronouns and it makes me feel guilty... I've kept he/him for now because I thought that's what I wanted? But I'm not sure anymore. And regarding my name... I know I've chosen Heron but is it really the right one? Like... I didn't mind it much but lately i've been feeling so annoyed at it... It's a fine name and I liked it even but not anymore. I guess that's normal? I kind of hate it when certain people use it. And i like these people, a lot. But then theres my dad... He calls me by this name with such affection and I don't feel uncorfotable at all. Every time he calls me I think of that. Should I really change my name at all? I don't wanna hear that hesitation my mom has when she calls me a he. I still like it when my dad calls me by my birthname. Should I change names and have just him call me by that? Should I give up on Heron? Maybe I shouldn't even be worrying about that. I only figured that I was trans a few months ago... it hasn't even been a year. People take a lot of time to figure out that. But I don't wanna wait.

I know I'm trans, but am I in the way I thought I was? I usually have a first thought regarding a thing but then I dismiss it. And all the time I end up coming to that same first conclusion. When I first started questioning I went with lots of "complex" nonbinary genders, what if I was right? Maybe I'm more genderfucked than I first thought.

But I guess I'm afraid too. I'm afraid of labelling myself and exploring because people won't get it. And I know I shouldn't be tinking about anyone but ME when it comes to that but I can't... I'm not exactly out in school. Some of my friends know I have something going on and i "look" kinda queer but I just left things with a "yea im a little bit gay maybe" and I can't help but think that if I label myself with a weird gender nobody will get it and ill just feel even more misunderstood.

I know I'm masc. But how much?

Where does my disphoria comes from? Where does my euphoria comes from? I wish I had the answers and why is it so hard to choose a name

Perhaps I should go with something longer. I also kinda like "international" names. Maybe something with 'a'? To match my birthname. I still like it. Even tho I hate it.

Avalon? Idk what kind of name is this but it sounds great. Amy? Amelie? Is it fine by me if I go by a gendered name? Why is it so hard?

I wish I knew more people like me. Personally. I just feel so lonely. I like to be alone a lot of the time but sometimes I just feel like im never with anyone that gets it. Sometimes I feel like im kind of a bad friend because--along other reasons (im terrible at comforting people or helping when theyre upset...)--sometimes i don't really wanna hang out with them because we barely share any interests. I have this one friend i love to hang out wit because we share the same passions and can do nothing or anythimg together but with my other friends-i like them sm but we don't really connect. They keep saying im gifted or somethinf cuz i can draw, they never shut up about how im oh-so great with art and i do a doodle and theyre like "OH wow what a masterpiece" and im doing an illustration for the sake of it, to feel good for making art, to make my world a little prettier with the colors i chose, decorating my homework or whatever and they all "woah you didn't have to humiliate us" every time! Its annoying! I hate it! We don't share anything, they like doing things that are not completely my thing-i mostly do them for the sake of hanging out with them because i always have such a great time-they have lifes completely different from mine and available at different times. Do you know that "you didn't really have a childhood if you didn't do x or y" meme? I HATE it. Cuz i didn't do x or y. It makes me feel so dismissed. So different. And most of my friends DID do x and y so i don't share that with them. I'm just so tired of being different all the time. I wish I was surrounded by more people like me. Maybe this will sound really gen z but idk what i'd do without social media. I'd prob feel even worse.

And my friends have struggles so different from mine. They don't have nice homes. They had such a troubled childhood. They had different joys too. They had sleepovers, childhood friends they grew up close to and still are close friends to this day and are so comfortable around each other and always went to the same school. I didn't really have this kind of friend because my mom didn't know in what school to put me at the time so i never stayed in one school for more than one year. My most was 2. And they're all cishet. They're all allo-i mean, exept from one. And i am so afraid for her. She goes around using she/her, once she told she'd like to go by he/him, we talked about gender sometimes and we saw that she liked the bigender label but her family is super religious and her therapist is also from her church and does "spiritual healing as well as mental" and she said she was over being bi because christians shouldn' be bi and--anyways i... and i don't know how to help my friends and they have so many problems and they don't know how to help me and i don't really talk about my problems with them and i don't know if i trust then enough to... share it all and i just wish i had more queer friends and people who understood me because i always feel so unseen ;( and lonely. And miserable.

And my mom-i just, and my dad, they are divorced but they keep bringing each other up and long story short theyre driving ne crazy they don't like each other but they can never get along and they keep dragging me and my siblings to their long ENDLESS conversations about the other one and im SO DONE I JUST WISH THEY COULD IGNORE EACH OTHER AND COLABORATE

And were traveling-my siblings me and my mom and everytime we do she always plans out everything but she doesnt really gives us freedom to have free chill time when we're there because everything is just so tightly scheduled planned and thats something really minor but i really need free chill MY tine EVERY DAY to recharge, even if it is from fun, to write, draw, read, do whatever i want-and me and my mom have ideas of fun so different and UGH

And she keeps calling me he and she is technically being supportive and avoiding misgendering me but WHY DO I FEEL SO UNCONFORTABLE?? And i shouldn't be mad at her because she is technically doing the right thing but :( i need to figure things out for myelf, find a support group because I REALLY need to surround with my kind and then tell her how it turns out for me.

I just-it's so hard being fourteen, when will this stop?

#vent #long post #pronouns #its so HARD being fourteen i hate it i hate it i hate it #my last years been great but these things were still therw #and you know what?#mum is always trying to surround herself with marginalized people like herself and having a support group #and telling me and my siblings that we should do it too and surround ourselves with black people like us-and im always just like #woah really funny but i wish you'd help me to find people like NE #and its really nonsensical cuz like??? how would she know?? if you don't tell her??? but i still feel this way #and i also #dont wanna lose all i had when i was a “girl” but i don't wanna be one #and sometimes being a boy also feels suffocating #i dont know if the other boys i know would “accept me as one of them”#i wish i knew more transmascs #i wish i knew

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violetwolfraven · 3 years

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Crossover Headcanons

((I know I have requests in my inbox but I just had to get this out of my head. Also I probably won’t be posting those requests for a while because my writer’s block is only barely starting to lift, so...))

Anyway this is gonna start off from one perspective and go to more later. Enjoy. 💜

Tw: past death, nightmares

...

So this is a... spin-off? Of the reincarnation au? An alternate timeline? A variant? Whatever it is the newsies are reincarnated and remember their past.

Also somehow most of them are going to the same college here, (I’m not going to say which one because I don’t want to research colleges right now) even if they’ve got a wide range of majors.

There’s only one dorm building even if people are only allowed to share a room with someone of the same gender.

This works out well for Elmer, because he’s pretty happy to be rooming with his boyfriend, Buttons.

But then he gets up to the floor their dorm is on and almost drops the box he’s holding.

Because it’s fuckin her. His national-level math nemesis since 11th grade. They’ve only faced off twice, the first time with her team winning and the second with his winning, but they’re each the only one who can beat the other in a math competition.

Elmer can see the shock in her eyes as she recognizes him and shouts YOU and then she’s stomping over to him aggressively enough that he’s pretty sure she wants to throw down physically.

Jack (who’s also on that floor with Davey) figures that too, and steps in front of him before she gets too close, but that girl acts like she doesn’t even notice him and shouts I WAS HALF A SECOND BEHIND YOU SOLVING THAT PROBLEM!

Elmer is kinda terrified but he defensively shoots back well I still solved it first and moves around Jack because this is his math nemesis and his fight.

The girl scowls at him for a couple more seconds then just sticks out her hand to shake, and Elmer realizes that he doesn’t actually know her name beyond the surname he’s seen on the back of her mathletes jacket. She introduces herself as Cady Heron.

Elmer Kazprzak, he responds, and Cady looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but he figures that’s probably fair, with how ‘Elmer’ was a common name in 1885 but not so much in 2003.

Jack clears his throat so Elmer introduces him but forgets that this isn’t their high school so things like oh this is Jack. He’s basically my dad. are weird.

Cady definitely thinks it’s weird but she doesn’t question it. Instead she just asks where Elmer is living, and it turns out, of course, he and Buttons are right next door to her and her roommate, Karen.

(I say Cady is living with Karen because Gretchen wanted to live with Regina and rules be damned Janis is with Damien.)

Elmer isn’t completely sure he’s not going to get murdered in his sleep but he guesses if he could handle the 1899 Newsboy Strike and World War I he can handle Cady Heron.

Meanwhile Katherine is going to Harvard so Sarah is rooming with someone she’s never met and she’s a little nervous.

And in stomps a girl who declares I’m a lesbian and if you have a problem with that tell me now so I can switch dorms.

And Sarah responds with my girlfriend out at Harvard would be pretty pissed at me if I did have a problem with that.

The girl lets her guard down, explains that she comes from a small town, and says her name is Alyssa Greene.

After that little bump, they get along good. Alyssa explains that her girlfriend, Emma, registered late and couldn’t get a dorm with who she wanted.

And Sarah’s just kinda like wait Emma as in Unruly Hearts Emma? Alyssa’s just like yeah!! I’m so proud of her!!

Sarah brags a bit about how Katherine is studying to be a journalist with a specialty in queer stories and long story short they become besties and eventually Alyssa introduces Emma for real and Sarah introduces Smalls and Sniper.

Emma and Alyssa are a bit thrown by the whole nickname thing but hey whatever now they have a Lesbian Club!

They do meet up with the boys occasionally but the Lesbian Club meets on a video call with Katherine every Saturday.

Anyway Jack meets Janis in art class and initially they kinda think each other is weird because their styles are very different but then they get in an actual conversation and get along amazingly.

Jack is definitely a fan of Janis’s philosophy of when someone hurts your friends you attack and grind your foe into the ground.

Janis tells her new bestie about Cady and Damien (and Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, though she still keeps Cady and Damien closer than the former Plastics) and she’s honestly shocked by the amount of friends Jack tells her about.

She does recognize some names, though. Romeo and Damien are both theatre majors and they’ve become friends.

But anyway Jack and Janis are like. Super good friends. Art buddies. Mlm/wlw solidarity. Protective friend pals.

Janis is pretty surprised when she introduces him to Cady and they’ve already met, and apparently oh fuck your math nemesis is Jack’s Elmer???

Jack’s just going oh fuck Elmer’s math nemesis Cady is Janis’s Cady???

Also Regina met Spot and Sarah at the gym and now they meet up with a few other people every other week to throw down like their own personal fight club.

At first Regina was just angrily trying to fight with no technique, but don’t worry, Spot and Sarah teach her.

There weren’t a ton of out gays at Northshore High, so yeah the Mean Girls crew definitely gets along with the Newsies crew out of solidarity.

Janis and at least one of the Plastics but I can’t choose which one(s) join the Lesbian Club.

Meanwhile Race is super hyped to meet Emma cause like I choreographed a dance to your song wanna see???

Emma is flattered but kinda weirded out and she mentions her friend Angie who’s a dancer too and Race is just *error 404*

Cause of course he saw the news story and knows Emma knows these 4 big Broadway stars but it just. Hasn’t connected until this moment that she like has their numbers.

He tries not to freak out too much cause he knows that’s weird but Emma eventually goes do you wanna meet her? And Race goes do I wanna meet her? She’s only my IDOL!! she’s been dancing like 20 years and she’s still got it!!

Emma calls Angie partially because she likes her new dancer friend and wants to make him happy and partially because she wants to prove to Angie that people do appreciate her zazz and despite how she was just a chorus girl until a few months ago this random boy from New York has been a fan since he was 12.

Angie can’t exactly fly over at the drop of a hat but she watches some videos on YouTube of Race dancing and like holy hell this kid is good. And his friends are too but this kid right here has zazz off the charts.

When she finds out he’s an orphan she’s lowkey can I adopt him??? but then she finds out he already has an adoptive mother and it’s Medda Larkin.

Medda Larkin who did more than a few shows with Angie when they were young but left Broadway to open her own theatre.

They fell out of touch years ago but still follow each other on Instagram and stuff.

But Angie shows Barry and Dee Dee and she’s super excited like remember Medda Larkin??? THIS IS HER ADOPTIVE KID AND HE’S AMAZING

And they watch YouTube clips of Emma’s new friends in high school shows and like wtf these kids are fuckin talented why aren’t they on Broadway???

They almost tell Emma to tell her friends to drop out of college and come straight (haha not that straight) to Broadway but Trent is like wtf no education is important.

Whatever the actors aren’t that relevant.

Sarah has a nightmare about her death one night. And with the others it’s not as big of a deal because they’re all rooming with each other, but Sarah’s roommate isn’t one of them.

She thinks Alyssa is asleep so she calls Katherine crying about how scared she was, how guilty she felt to be leaving her brothers and friends and Kath without a goodbye.

And Alyssa isn’t quite awake, but she’s awake enough that she hears Sarah whisper about how everything is just so stupid complicated. I shouldn’t be afraid of dying when I’ve done it before—when we’ve all died horribly—but I still am, Kitty. I can’t stop being afraid.

Alyssa is out of it enough that she falls back asleep, but when she wakes up she knows what she heard. That her roommate thinks she had a past life and died and implied that all her friends did.

Emma notices she’s acting weird and when she asks what’s wrong she tells her.

They both know it sounds crazy, but...

Emma tentatively points out some weird things about their friends from New York.

She’s study buddies with Race and occasionally he points something out she got wrong on her history homework. Something so small and inconsequential that it would’ve been almost impossible for him to know unless he was there and remembered from experience.

Smalls and Sniper have a habit of jumping apart if they were so much as holding hands and someone walks in on them, even though they come from a mostly accepting city with an accepting friend group.

That whole group straight up skipped history class the whole week they were learning about World War I and refused to make up the work.

They bring the half-baked theory to Janis who immediately remembers all the times she’s seen Jack draw small war-torn towns in France and dirty city streets and an outdated skyline as if seen from a rooftop, all of them too detailed to be anything but directly copied from something Jack has seen before.

But the question is if they’re drawn from a reference photo or a memory.

Cady realizes, upon hearing the theory, that Elmer and Buttons never take her up on offers to come to football games because they don’t like the noise.

More specifically, she remembers the look on her nemesis/frenemy’s face when he said he didn’t like fireworks.

Aaron notices that Davey always solves math problems by hand. He never uses a calculator unless someone reminds him it’s an option. And half the time, he defaults to using his right hand with terrible handwriting even though he’s left handed. Almost like he was raised with the whole ‘left hand devil’ thing, which doesn’t make sense because he went to a public school; not a religious one.

Damien realizes that Romeo has a habit of correcting the costume department, like he knows the period clothing for Hello, Dolly! better than they do. It annoys the hell out of them because upon some research, he is always right.

Regina notes how Spot and Sarah fight like they’re fighting for their lives in a street brawl. She knows that because she started taking karate in an attempt to win fights. She noticed months ago that her friends use technique that’s barely sustainable, like they’re just trying to stay alive until they can run or backup comes.

However all this is just fun and games, a crack theory they’re all mildly creeped out by but don’t really believe, until Gretchen finds it.

An article on the Newsboy Strike of 1899.

There’s a copy of the Newsies Banner, written by Katherine Plumber, which references strike leaders Jack Kelly and David Jacobs.

But they could write that off as just a creepy coincidence if not for the photo.

It’s the one Katherine and Darcy took that first day, which is in black and white and not the greatest quality, but clearly shows a lot of familiar faces.

A later story by this Katherine Plumber documents lives of street kids with interviews from kids with the same odd nicknames as the group they know.

Regina was the most cynical about this theory and even she can’t deny it now. There’s just too much evidence.

Especially when Karen finds Crutchie’s obituary, but Regina stops her from showing it to anyone else because that’s just too creepy.

The Mean Girls crew and Alyssa and Emma are... unsure if they should confront their friends about this, because a) this is freaky and b) the newsie gang is clearly still harboring trauma due to their deaths.

Plus, as Damien points out, being gay was illegal in 1899. Do you think they want a reminder of how they had to hide their feelings for each other back then?

Emma and Alyssa share a knowing look because they know what that’s like.

In the end Karen lets it slip when she asks Davey a question about her history homework involving World War II, mistakenly believing he was there.

Davey naturally questions her about it and she spills the entire story about how Alyssa heard Sarah’s phone call and they figured everything else out from there. She even shows him the article with the 1899 photo and the Newsies Banner.

And... shit, there’s a lot of memories behind that picture. And that’s them, over a hundred years ago, when they were kids and they weren’t all the same age like this time around.

The old Davey looks so big compared to Romeo and Elmer and god was Specs tall for a 15-year-old.

Davey didn’t even meet Smalls and Sniper in this lifetime until they were 16, but in that picture they’re only 13 and they’re so small.

A sidenote on Katherine has a picture of her in a hairstyle he hasn’t seen her in since 1917.

It’s a mixture between ptsd and nostalgia and Davey can’t decide whether to freak out or be happy.

He takes the article to Jack and tells him about how Gretchen found it and their non-reincarnated friends know.

Jack’s silently cursing the fact that he really should have been more careful with what he drew around Janis, but it’s kinda a relief that they know, honestly.

He shoots a quick text to the group chat and then turns his phone on do not disturb mode while he sits Janis down for a little chat.

He doesn’t go into graphic detail, but he does tell her an abridged version of everything. How they were basically a family and all lgbt+ in the early 20th century and how they died before their time and got a second chance.

It’s more than a little freaky for Janis, but it does explain a lot.

Such as how Jack demonstrates on a dare that he can still do some parkour because once upon a time, he used it to run from the cops.

Elmer tells Cady he’s so quick at math because he used to have to calculate change quickly and later had to help Jack and Davey come up with battle plans based on numbers vs tactics and terrain.

Regina definitely trusts Spot’s combat advice a lot more now because he was essentially a gang leader as a teenager and it has literally saved his life.

Race admits to Emma that her song made him cry because... in this lifetime he might not have had to be closeted, but in his last he was constantly worried about getting arrested or worse if people found out not just about him and his boyfriend, but his friends. His family.

Emma may or may not collaborate with him after that to write a song about how much it hurts to be closeted for your own safety and how much better it feels to be free to be who you are. Race dances in the music video and many of the other newsies make appearances but it’s mainly him and Emma. Spot and Alyssa cry when they see it. Damien does, too.

Who am I kidding everyone cries.

They get like 4 million hits on YouTube and it’s amazing.

The title is probably In the Light or something.

Also Cady, Aaron, Kevin, and Elmer form their own college level mathletes team and no one can beat them.

(Kevin’s not as close with the main group literally only because I don’t know that much about him as a character.)

(Also Stacy, Kailey, and whatever their boyfriends’ names are might be there somewhere but I don’t know them either.)

Katherine does get to meet the new kids in person eventually. And also I didn’t mention this earlier but Specs goes to Harvard too and he comes to visit too.

The power when the Lesbian Club finally gets to meet all in person? Unparalleled.

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missnxthingg · 5 years

Note

may coming into peters room to ask what he wants for dinner or something and finds reader straddling his lap sleeping on his chest while he’s at his desk doing his homework.. like her reaction + maybe she comes in and asks him a bunch of cute questions about you?🥰

She’s just tired

A/N: Your request was sooooo cute I almost died with the diabetes I got with all of this sugar. Really loved it sooooo much! And I loved writing it. So enjoy as much as I did.

Words: 1,6K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: If you consider cute a warning.

masterlist

Just please pretend he’s not sad in this gif! I’m going for May’s top of the head kiss only.

Getting May Parker to be home this early wasn’t a very easy task, specially when it was still sundowning. She drove home to open her front door and start to listen a very low and calm song coming from Peter’s bedroom. She smiled, knowing he was probably focused on his studies. The music was a sign that he was too deep in his own stuff.

He talked about something like having tons of homework this week, and if May really knew her nephew, is that sometimes he forgets to eat just because he’s full of things to do. So she decided to knock on his door to see what he wanted to eat, probably to order it because she was a terrible chef.

“Hey Peter, what do you want for dinner?” May asked, freezing right after she saw her nephew pressing his index finger against his lips, shushing her up. Her eyes went down to Peter. A girl, straddled on his lap, face resting on his chest, eyes shut and arms involving him in a hug. His left hand was stroking her hair, while his right hand was writing something down on his notebook. “What happened to her?”

“She’s just tired May. Her parents were fighting and she didn’t know where to go. And she just fell asleep right here.” He whispered and May nodded, leaning to the door and smiled.

“So this is the famous (Y/N)?” She asked and he nodded with a smirk on his face. “She’s really pretty.”

“She’s so beautiful, inside and out.” May approached him, standing behind him and stroked his hair. He inhaled the good smell of her shampoo on her hair and kissed the top of her head. “My beautiful girl.”

“Do you like her?”

“I think I love her May.” He giggled and dropped his pen over the book. “She makes me feel like no one has ever made me feel before. Happy, special, loved, but in a very singular way.”

“That’s cute.” She smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were locked on her and his other hand met her back. He softly rocked her, and she snored, deep into her sleep.

“She takes care of me, like… she always texts to see if I already got home safely from patrol, and if I have a problem, she’s always there to help me.” He squeezed her and she relaxed even more in his arms. She sighed, making his smile go widder. “Sometimes she does this thing where she draws constellations on my freckles with her fingers, and I kept staring at her thinking how lucky I am to have such a special girl in my life.”

“You know Pete, the last time I saw someone like this, head over heels about a girl, his name was Ben Parker. And well, I married him.” She caressed her nephews cheek, squinting her eyes. “Sometimes I think that you look so much like your uncle, more than your dad.”

“Really?” His eyes shined when he glanced back to his aunt, watching she nodding her head yes.

“Maybe not in appearance, but the way you act…” She sighed, remember her old love. “ He used to hold me like that too, when we were younger. And if I was ever sad, he simply knew how to make me feel better.”

“I really miss him.” Peter felt down for a while, but he usually loves to hear stories about his uncle.

“I miss him too. So much Peter.” She let a tear fall from her face, but she wiped it right away.

“I’m sorry aunt May.”

“It’s okay sweetie.” She smiled, trying to comfort him. “If she is really that special, you better hold onto her and never let her go. You know that old phrase, ‘If you love her, let her go?’ ” He nodded. “That’s bullshit.”

“Great advice May.” He giggled, shaking his head.

“Now tell me about this girl.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head again.

“Oh, I’ve never told you? We met at the decathlon. And she’s like really, incredibly smart. Still, she asked me to study with her, for physics.”

“Maybe she was just making up with an excuse to spend some more time with you. Like Cady Heron in Mean Girls.”

“It’s so weird to see your own aunt mentioning Mean Girls.” She rolled her eyes. “So I took her to a coffee shop and we spent the day there, and I found out that she’s extremely nice and kind, also very funny. And of course, beautiful. I always thought she was gorgeous, but everything about her makes her beautiful. We became friends since that day.”

“And in what moment did you realise you liked her? Like really liked her.”

“When I asked her out on a date. She blushed so hard, I found it pretty cute, and when she said yes, I think I lost it. But of course I realised that when I kissed her. I took her to the pizza place, and even though it tasted like pepperoni, it was amazing.”

“Gross, but cute.”

“I gave her a necklace when I asked her to be my girlfriend. I’m pretty sure she’s wearing it right now. It’s a key, and I have the locker on my keys.” He pointed the keys over his desk with his head, and May glanced at it, smiling when she saw his keys over the table.

“That’s beautiful Peter.”

“Today when she came, all sad and red eyes, my heart broke. She looked so tired, and she simply slept right here in like… seconds. She said she hasn’t slept in two days, because her parents keep shouting at each other.” He squeezed her tighter. “I needed to do my homework, but she needed me more. I couldn’t let her go. I love her so much May.”

“I love you too.” She said, almost in a whisper. She looked up and left a peck on his lips.

“I’m sorry to wake you up baby.”

“It wasn’t so bad to wake up to such beautiful words.” She looked like trash, puffy eyes and tired face, but still, she sat straight and face May, giving her the biggest smile she could. “Hi, I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m May, and it’s really nice to meet you too (Y/N).”

“I’m so sorry to meet you in this situation, wish I looked more presentable to meet the famous aunt May.“

“Oh, it’s okay honey. Everytime you need to escape, the doors are always opened for you.”

“Yeah, you’re part of the family now.” She hugged Peter and he pulled May to join the hug.

“Thank you, it means so much to me. Especially in these times that family seems something so distance to me.”

“If there’s one thing I learned after my parents death, is that we make our own family.” He caressed her back and kissed her temple.

“He’s right, you know? I didn’t have kids of my own, but Peter’s my boy.” May smiled and rolled her fingers around his curls. “And you’re my kid too, from this moment beyond.”

“Thank you.” She smiled tenderly and May walked away, stopping at the door.

“So, what do you guys want for dinner?”

“Anything is fine, really.”

“(Y/N) wants chinese. She told me earlier.”

“Peter!”

“Chinese it is!” May winked and (Y/N) blushed.

“Really, there’s no need…”

“I’ve been dying for some spring rolls.” Peter interrupted and May nodded.

“Noted. I’m gonna order right now.” May left the room, and Peter started to laugh at (Y/N)’s face.

“Stop it!”

“You look so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“I was trying to cause a good impression to your aunt.”

“She already loves you.” He kissed her cheek, pressing a long kiss against it. “You know, what she said, it’s very true.”

“What?”

“You’re part of the family now.” He entwined their pinkies and she gave him an eskimo kiss.

“You just don’t know how grateful I am for that.”

“Oh I know. I’m grateful for having you. And I meant what I said before.”

“What?”

“That I love you.” She smiled and caressed his cheek.

“I love you too, very much Peter.” She kissed his, a long and sweet kiss, full of love. “Come on, let’s help May set the table.”

“And you were thinking you’re not causing a good first impression.” He giggled and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You love this idiot.”

“I know.” She entwined their finger and pulled him to the living room.

They helped May set the table, and they spent the whole night talking about every subject there ever was. (Y/N) felt as if she had been part of the family for years now and she was so grateful and relieved for that. She loved Peter and wanted it all to work out just fine. By the end of the night, her dad came to take her home, even though she was avoiding going home.

“I don’t really wanna go, but my daddy calls.” She said and May nodded.

“But you’re welcome to stay anytime.”

“Thank you May, for everything.”

“I want you here having dinner with us every week, okay? I demand you!”

“I swear she won’t cook.” Peter made everyone laugh and May nodded.

“I will be here. Thank you again.”

Peter followed her to outside, and before he opened the building’s front door, he gave her a good night kiss.

“I wanted to stay. I don’t wanna hear those screams.”

“Call me and I can get you to calm down, okay?” She nodded and he gave a small peck on her lips. “Good night, I love you.”

“Night, I love you too.”

He opened the door and took her to the car, having a brief conversation with her dad before they drove off. She kept looking at the streets with a big smile on her face. For the first time after a long time feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere, she finally felt as if she was part of a family. And right in that moment, that’s was all she needed.

…………………

PART TWO/PREQUEL

…………………

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Geyarajan (Gandharva)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Gandharva Additional Tags: Exophilia, Gandharva, Childhood Sweethearts, Puppy Love Content Warnings: Blood, Broken Limb, Separation, Memory lapse Words: 4600

A commission for @floral-and-fine, who did the lovely artwork above of Geyarajan! An angsty story about childhood love that gets torn apart by family, race, and circumstance! Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

In Hinduism, the Gandharvas are male nature spirits and husbands of the Apsaras, the spirits of clouds and air. Some are part animal, usually a bird or horse. They have superb musical skills; they guard the Soma and make beautiful music for the gods in their palaces. Gandharvas are frequently depicted as singers in the court of the gods.

Gandharvas in the historic sense acted as messengers between the gods and humans; today they are depicted as imitators, cheaters, liars and those who have tricked themselves 'into being god'. In Hindu law, a gandharva marriage is one contracted by mutual consent and without formal rituals.

You couldn’t remember exactly how old you were, perhaps six or seven, when you first met Geyarajan. You’d heard singing in the forest as you played in the garden behind your house, and though you knew you shouldn’t go into the woods alone, you couldn’t ignore the draw of the sound. After maybe ten minutes, you stumbled upon a clearing wherein a boy was singing, though he was unlike any other child you’d ever met.

Your village was human only; beasts and monsters were not allowed to settle there. In fact, non-human merchants were discouraged from selling their wares in the area and non-human travelers weren’t welcome in the taverns or inns. In your short life, you’d only seen a person who wasn’t human maybe twice, and only in passing. You didn’t quite understand why, but you were a small child and didn’t think to question it.

Not until you met Geyarajan. When you first saw him, you were mesmerized by his music. You sat and listened as still as a statue, afraid of spooking him, except when he stopped singing, he looked right at you and smiled as if he’d been waiting for you to come. He hopped off the rock where he had been sitting, and you got a better look at him.

He wore no clothing, but from the waist down, he was all feathers. His legs were long and spindly, ending in three-toed claws like that of a purple heron. The feathers extended up his back to his large wings, heather-grey in color, which were folded at rest behind him.

His hair was long and falling around his shoulders in ringlets, the same heather-gray as his feathers. He had a four streaks of black, two on each side, running down his neck, one stripe down his arms to his wrists, the other down the inside of his shoulders and disappearing into the feathers near his hips. His skin was dark brown and his eyes were sharp in shape, amber-gold in color, and hawk-like.

Though he was much taller than you because of his long legs, in his face, he looked to be about your age, perhaps slightly older. He was slender and graceful in his movements, taking careful steps toward you as if not to scare you, though you didn’t think you could possibly be afraid of him.

“Aren’t you from the village?” He asked, his speaking voice as musical as his song suggested. “Won’t you be in trouble for coming into the woods? My parents say that humans are scared of the woods.”

“I’m not scared,” You said, puffing up. “Papa says I’m a big girl. I can go to the corner store all by myself now. I only came ‘cause I heard you singing.”

“Oh,” He said, frowning. “I must be too close, then. I should go.”

“Wait!” You reached out, grabbing his hand. “Stay and play with me, won’t you? What’s your name?”

“Geyarajan,” He replied, not attempting to break away from your grasp. “You’re the girl who lives in the house near the river, right? What’s your name?”

You told him. “How do you know me?”

“I’ve seen you sometimes,” He said, leading you to the rock where he was sitting before. There was a bushel of flowers laying there. He began to weave them into a ring. “When I fly above the town. I know you from the ribbons.” He tugged at the blue ribbon you wore in your hair, which matched your pristine dress. Your mother insisted on dressing you like a doll, always making you wear frilly dresses and putting ribbons in your hair.

“You can fly?” You whispered in awe.

“Well, sure,” He laughed, fluffing his wings a little. “These aren’t fake, you know. I have to fly pretty high, so the only thing I can see of you clearly is the ribbons.”

“Why do you fly so high?” You asked him.

“Mother says it’s too dangerous to fly too low over the town,” Geyarajan said. “She says the people don’t like us, that they’d be mean to us if they knew we lived in the forest next to them.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. If it’s dangerous, why don’t you move?”

“Our kind lived in these woods before those humans ever settled here,” He said, pointing toward the village. “Why should we have to leave?”

“That makes sense, I guess,” You admitted. “I don’t see people like you in town. It’s only humans. I don’t know why.”

“Mother and Father say it’s because humans hate us,” He said morosely, looking at his hands as he continued to weave the garland. “Do you hate us?”

“No!” You said. “You’re so pretty! Can I… Can I touch your wings? I’ve never met a person with wings before.”

He regarded you warily, but said, “Okay, but only for a minute. Mother says our wings are a sign of divinity, that they make us holy.”

“Divine? Like an angel?”

“What’s an angel?”

You tried to explain what an angel was to him, but he just looked confused.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Do you want to touch my wings or not?” He asked impatiently.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaimed. You reached out tentatively and ran your fingertips gently down his proffered wing. He watched you carefully, his hands stilling in their work.

“Wow,” You breathed. “It’s so hard to believe they’re real.”

“Well, they are,” He sniffed, eyeing you. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’ve never met a human, but my parents said they’re all cruel and heartless. They call your kind monsters, but you seem nice.”

“I am nice,” You replied. “I’m friends with everyone in town. I want to be your friend, too. Can I call you Rajan?”

“Why?”

“It’s a nickname!” You said. “It means we’re friends.”

“Oh,” He replied. “Yeah, I guess so. Can I give you a nickname?”

“Sure!”

“Alright, how about…” He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on the flowers in his lap. There were wild daisies, coneflowers, purple poppies, blanket flowers, black-eyed susans, and blush-pink primroses. “What about Primrose?”

“I love it!” You said excitedly. “Primrose and Rajan.”

Rajan giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“Well, my whole name, Geyarajan, means ‘king of songs,’” He replied, finishing the crown of flowers and placing it on his head. “But Rajan just means ‘king.’”

You giggled too. “I like that! You can be the king of the primroses! It’ll be a kingdom just for us!”

“Sounds fun!” He said. “Let’s play Kings and Flowers, then!”

“That’s not a real game!”

“Is too! I just made it up!”

The two of you played until it started to get dark, then Rajan escorted you home. He stopped about thirty feet away from the treeline, where you could hear your mother calling.

“I can’t go closer,” He said, still wearing the flower crown. He took it off and placed it on your head. “You should run home now. I’ll watch you to make sure you stay safe.”

“Alright,” You said brightly, standing on your tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you again soon!”

He blushed and touched his cheek, frozen. You laughed joyfully and ran back to the garden behind your house.

“There you are!” Your mother shouted as you came out from around the house. “Where have you been? Look at the state of your dress!” She fussed. “It’s ruined! Do you know how long it took me to sew that?”

“Just make me a normal dress, Mama,” You said. “A plain one I can play in.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said, taking your hand. “I’ll not have my daughter wallowing in the muck like some street urchin. To the bath with you!”

As she dragged you along into the house, your lovely flower crown slipped from your head and floated away on the breeze.

“Oh, Mama, my crown!”

“Leave it,” She said.

“Oh, but it was--” You stopped short before saying a present. You didn’t want your mother asking from whom. You watched as it floated into the road and was trampled by a passerby. Sighing with disappointment, you followed your mother inside.

Geyarajan became your best friend from that day on. You had to be careful, though; you couldn’t go too deep into the forest for fear of dangerous creatures and he couldn’t get too close to the village, or he’d be seen and possibly captured by the townspeople. As such, you could only see each other once a week or so, and on the days you agreed to meet, often you’d sneak out to play for a few hours after bed.

Having a secret friend was thrilling. It made you feel special and important. He’d told you that he hadn’t told his parents about you, either, because he didn’t want them to be mad at him for getting so close to humans. It was as if the pretend kingdom the two of you built together was real, and you were the only two in it.

It didn’t take long at all for you to develop a crush on Geyarajan, and it seemed to be mutual. He always held your hand whenever the two of you walked together and you often gave him quick pecks on the lips to see the surprise and delight on his face. It was the pure, innocent love of childhood, and though your time together was limited, you were both happy.

Of course, secrets are never meant to last.

Time passed. One evening when you were eleven, after you’d snuck out to see him, the two of you were stargazing in a clearing, making up constellations, your fingers intertwined loosely.

“See there,” He said. “That’s the raven. It’s good luck.”

“Who says?” You asked, laughing.

“I say!” Rajan said. “I’m a king, aren’t I?”

“Oh, right,” You replied. “Papa calls that the eagle. And that’s the dog star.”

“Why do they call it the dog star?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “Tell me another one.”

He squinted. “I can’t see it all that well from here. I usually look at the stars from up in the trees. It’s harder to see them all clearly on the ground like this.”

“How high up do you go?”

“The top, obviously,” He said, sitting up and pointing straight up to a nearby oak tree. “The tallest, strongest branch. That’s the best place.”

“I’d be scared to go that high,” You said, shivering a little.

“I could help you,” He said. “I’d fly you up there.”

“Aren’t I too heavy?” You asked him skeptically. “I was the last time you tried to lift me.”

“That was a year ago! I’m much stronger now.” He hopped to his taloned feet and flexed his skinny arms. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Are you sure?” You asked as you took his hand.

“Come on, you trust me, right?”

You straightened up and smiled at him. “Yeah, of course I do.”

He grinned back. “I won’t be able to take off from the ground,” He said. “We’ll have to climb up a little ways so I can do a drop. I’m really good at those.”

You frowned at the thought, but since he knew way more about flying than you did, you didn’t argue. Swallowing down your nervousness, you followed him up the tree.

You hadn’t known how to climb a tree when you first met him; your mother had forbade such things. Geyarajan had decided immediately that it was inappropriate for anyone to be unable to climb a tree and taught you how to do it the second time you met. You got pretty scraped up the first few times, which you had a hard time explaining away. Now, you were an expert. You were even able to keep leaves and dirt off of your nightgown.

Of course, Geyarajan was much faster than you, since he’d been climbing trees before he could even walk. We was already on the branch he planned to launch from, waiting patiently for you to catch up. He wasn’t above heckling you, though.

“Are all humans as slow as you?” He teased. “I could be halfway to the coast by the time you get up here.”

You stopped for a moment to blow a raspberry at him. In the few seconds that you were distracted, you misstepped, your foot sliding out of your evening slipper and catching you off balance.

Geyarajan leapt, reaching out to catch you, but he was too late. You fell straight down, landing on your right leg. It snapped in half upon impact. The pain shot up your body and struck your brain, and you screamed like you never had before. Geyarajan landed next to you, panicking, trying to figure out what to do. You were crying too hard to speak.

“Hold on, Primrose, hold on,” He lifted you as carefully as he could and began to run through the woods. The pain and smell of blood made you violently sick. “I’m taking you home, just hold on.”

“No!” You managed to gasp. “You can’t go there!”

“I won’t be able to stay, but I can get you there, I promise,” He said.

“No!” You said, beginning to struggle, squealing as the movement made the pain worse. “They’ll kill you! You can’t go to the village!”

Geyarajan stopped in his tracks, breathing hard and looking toward the village and back into the forest.

“I’ll get into a lot of trouble, but there’s only one other place I can take you,” He said, sweating and shaking with fear. “Hold on to me. We’ll be there soon.”

What happened next was a blur of pain, color, noise, voices, and a terrible sick feeling throughout your body, the only familiar thing through all of it was the sound of Geyarajan’s voice and his hand holding yours. At some point, you blacked out completely.

You woke up to the sound of screaming. You were lying in the back garden of your own home, a large, grey feather in your hand, and your mother rushing over to you, checking you frantically.

“Oh, god, are you okay?!” She asked. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” She saw your leg and shrieked. “Who did this to you?!”

Her shouting had attracted the attention of several men, all of whom looked tired and held burned out torches. One of them dropped their spent torch and lifted you up, carrying you into the house. There was noise and shouting and confusion all around you, made worse by your mother’s constant shrill crying in the background. You let them do as they will in silence, clutching Geyarajan’s feather.

Your leg hurt, but nowhere as badly as it had before. You looked down and saw to your surprise that the leg had been wrapped set, wrapped in cloth to stem the bleeding, and was in a makeshift splint made of straight wooden rods and vines.

The physician was called and examined your leg. During this time, you learned you’d been missing for four days. The men with torches were part of the search party, tirelessly searching the woods for any trace of you. When they found blood on the grass and a fragment of your clothes, along with several large feathers, they thought some massive monster had gobbled you up.

The physician determined that your leg had been expertly set, however, meaning it was no monster that had taken you. Since you couldn’t remember most of your time missing, you kept silent, which made everyone grim-faced. They assumed the worst and decided someone had taken you and kept you in the woods somewhere, and you were so traumatized by the incident that you’d blocked the entire event out. You couldn’t exactly argue with them, but you knew Rajan would never hurt you. Not that you could tell them that.

The search began anew, only this time it wasn’t retrieval. It was revenge. You wished you could tell them that it wasn’t necessary, you wanted to stop them, but you couldn’t do anything without telling them about Rajan and his people, and you had promised never to do so. So you could only watch anxiously as the townsfolk worked themselves into a froth, looking for a predator that didn’t exist.

Bedridden and helpless to stop the villagers from their crusade, you spent many nights crying and wishing you could see Rajan. It was too dangerous now; you thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time. You were surprised when, a week later, Rajan came straight to your window late one night. He opened it and hopped down.

“Rajan!” You breathed, elated, and reached out your arms to embrace him from the bed. He stayed out of your reach. You couldn’t see his face well in this light, but his body radiated distrust.

“How could you?” He said whispered, pain seeping into his voice. “I thought you were my friend. How could you do this to me?”

You dropped your arms. “Wha… How could I what?”

“You know what!” He retorted angrily, his voice rising in anger. “You told them! You told the humans about us! You told them where to find us!”

“I didn’t!” You replied, stricken. “I would never, you know that! I never told them anything!”

“Liar!” He snapped. “Men came! They set fire to our colony! We have no home now because of you!”

You ignored the pain in your leg and swung around to sit up properly. “I didn’t tell them anything! I don’t even know where your colony is! I’ve never been there!”

“You’re lying! You were there! My parents cared for you, they fixed your leg! This is how you repay their kindness?”

“What?” You replied, confused. “I… no, I… I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. The last memory I have before waking up in the garden was you carrying me. We argued because I didn’t want you to come to the village. I was worried you’d get hurt--”

“Stop,” He said, raising a hand. “Enough of this. My parents were right. You can never trust a human.”

“Don’t say that! How could you have so little faith in me? We’ve been friends since we were little! I’d never do anything to put you or your family in danger, you know that! Why would I do that?”

The light from the moon caught his face, and the pain in his eyes stopped your heart.

“You tell me.”

He climbed up onto the windowsill, walked out on the roof, unfurled his wings, and took off. You fell to the ground with a loud thump. Your father came in to find you sobbing in anguish. He lifted you and put you back to bed, petting your hair and telling you it would be alright. But it wouldn’t.

You decided that once you were healed, you’d go and find Rajan and keep protesting your innocence until he believed you. You didn’t count on your parents’ plans.

Another week passed, and your mother came into your room.

“How are you feeling, love?” She asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. You’d been sullen and depressed since Rajan’s visit. Everyone assumed it was because of your disappearance and you made no attempt to correct them. The guilt of his family’s home being destroyed weighed heavily on your mind. If only you hadn’t tried to climb that tree.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said. “I can’t believe monsters were living right next door to us in the woods. It’s become too dangerous in this place. Look at what they did to you!”

“They helped me!” You shouted. “They’re not monsters!”

Your mother rounded on you, her face pinching in suspicion. “How would you know that? What do you know about them?”

You scowled at her and remained silent.

“I knew you were lying when you said you couldn’t remember anything.” She stood up and looked down her nose at you. “That does it. We’re moving to Dunmountain.”

“What?!” You cried. “No! I don’t want to move!”

“The decision has already been made,” She told you, pulling out your luggage and starting to pack. “Your father and I can’t abide those disgusting creatures living so close.”

“But there are people like them in the city!” You argued.

“There are rules for them there,” Your mother said. “Most of them are ring fighters or laborers. They don’t practically nest in the backyards of decent people.”

“Who said you were decent?” You screamed. “You can’t make me go!”

“Who’s going to stop me?” She shouted back. “Your father has agreed. We’re going!” She threw your bag on the floor next to your bed. “Pack your things yourself!” With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you to weep bitterly into your blanket.

You had no choice. Within the month, you were all packed and in a wagon headed to the city. You had become withdrawn and quiet, unlike the girl you had been before. Your father worried over you, but your mother told you to suck it up and get over it. New city, new life, new start.

She was more right than she knew. In the city, you were a new person. The cheerful child that was friends with everyone she met was gone. You were shy, introverted, and taciturn, only speaking when spoken to. You found it difficult to make friends and were quick to tears.

Your mother, in an effort to desensitize you to “monsters,” took you to the gladiator’s ring and made you watch them fight each other. You hated it; the sight of them viciously attacking each other for no other purpose than to entertain humans made you physically ill.

As you got older, the people of your neighborhood began to call you the monster girl because of your tendency to go to the ring and talk to the fighters. Just talk. Some of them were willing participants, but there were others who were forced to fight. People with debt, criminals, the homeless, the mentally ill; anyone society deemed abnormal. Their jailers seemed to forget that they were still people.

You’d often sit outside of their cells and talk to them, comfort them, even write down messages to give to their loved ones. Your mother despaired of you, and the humans thought you were weird, but the creatures of the fighting ring called you an angel.

One day, when you were nineteen, there was a new arrival at the jail, a young woman with wings and bird feet. When you were told, you immediately went to see her first.

“Hello?” You called softly, tapping gently on one of the bars.

“Who are you?” She asked.

You told her your name. “I come here to talk to the fighters and help them when I can. What’s your name?”

“Aashiyana,” She replied. “You can help me?”

“I can try,” You replied. “Why are you here?”

“I caught a deer in a field near my home,” She said. “It was apparently owned by a nobleman or something. What kind of person owns a deer?”

“People with too much money,” You replied, laughing. “How long is your sentence?”

“Until my fine is up. Six months, I think they said.”

“How much is the fine?”

“300 gold.”

“That’s highway robbery!” You exclaimed. “Let me see what I can work out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” She said. “This city is stifling. I hate it here.”

“So do I,” You replied, standing. You were about to turn and leave, but you were compelled to ask. “By any chance, do you know a boy named Geyarajan?”

Aashiyana sat up straighter and peered at you. “I did know a boy by that name, yes.”

Your heart hammered in your throat. “Did?”

“He doesn’t go by that name anymore. His name is Gaveshan now.”

“Why did he change his name?” You asked.

“How do you know him?”

“He saved my life years ago. He… was my friend.”

Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. “Are you Primrose?”

Your expression matched hers. “Yes! How did you know about that?”

“We met!” She said, her eyes lighting up. “Your leg was broken and my mother set it. She was the colony’s healer. You stayed in the colony with us until she felt it was safe to move you.”

“I don’t remember,” You told her. “I don’t remember anything. I was with Rajan when I broke my leg, and then I passed out. When I woke up again, I was back home and I’d been missing for four days. I don’t know what happened during that time.”

Aashiyana frowned. “You don’t remember me at all?”

You shook your head sadly. “I’m sorry. What happened to the colony?” You asked her, putting a hand on hers around the bars. “Rajan told me that it was burned, but he didn’t give me any details.”

“Men came out of the forest with torches. They set fire to everything. We had to flee with nothing. Some didn’t make it.”

“Oh, god,” You said, covering your mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t fallen out of the tree…”

“Did you tell the men how to find us?”

“No! I swear I didn’t! I don’t even remember being there!” You said. “I swear, Aashiyana, I swear on my life.”

He deep brown eyes searched yours for a moment, a discerning look on her face, and she said, “I believe you.”

Your face crumpled as the tears began to flow. “Thank you.” You wiped your face on a handkerchief and straightened yourself. “Let me see what I can do for you. I’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you,” She said.

It took some time, but you managed to make a deal with the judge. It was a lucky thing that your parents were in good standing with the stadium, as your father was a financier, so you were able to pull a few favors. You returned to Aashiyana’s cell three days later and directed the jailor to open the door.

“What’s happened?”

“I’ve made a deal,” You said. “You’re free of the fighting ring, but in exchange, you must work. I’ve made arrangements for you. I’ll tell you about it once we’re in the carriage.”

“Carriage?”

You took her by the arm. “Come on.”

Outside the jail, a carriage was indeed waiting for you. You opened the door and assisted her in getting inside, as the steps weren’t built for her large claws, and got inside after her. The carriage began to move.

“So what deal did you make?” She asked.

“You are to be my personal servant for the remainder of your sentence.”

She balked. “What makes you think I want to be a slave any more than a punching bag?”

“I have no intention of giving you any order,” You told her. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll like you to take me to see Geyarajan. Or Gaveshan, I guess.”

“Do I have to stay with you?” She asked, eyeing you.

“Of course not,” You replied. “You’re free to go as soon as we get out of the city limits, as far as I’m concerned. I have no intention of ordering you around.”

“Can’t you get into trouble for this?”

“Of course. The penalty for assisting a criminal escape is taking their sentence plus five years.”

“If you know that’s going to happen when you come back, why would you do it?” She asked you, horrified.

“Simple. I’m not coming back.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

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vanilla107 · 4 years

Text

The Apology

Okay, so I binged the entirety of Ducktales over the last couple months and now I'm in a new fandom (whoo-hoo!).

The inspiration of this fic came from the fact that Scrooge was going through quite a difficult time with the boys after he told them how Della went missing. He lashed out at Webby saying that she wasn't family and HOLY SHIT MAYBE THAT LINE BROKE ME??

It was never addressed again in the series (well not that I remember) and I really wanted Scrooge to apologize so that's how this fanfiction was born!

Thank you for reading! If you want to yell at me about She-ra, Ducktales, Miraculous Ladybug or musicals, then message me!

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it leave a comment!

Read on AO3

---

“But there was a reason I came here before seeing your work-”

“Oh is it a new adventure? I’ll start packing!” she squealed but he gently grabbed her hand to stop her from running off.

“That reason is to apologize to you, Webbigail.”

--- The following months after the attempted Moonvasion, Scrooge McDuck pays a visit to the one duck he owes an apology too, Webbigail Vanderquack.

Webbigail Vanderquack grinned as she closed the trunk of the files she had now over-flowing with information of Christine van Duck, a distant relative of Scrooge McDuck and famous opera singer, who she had met just several hours ago after in the South of Italy. The adventure had been a simple ‘whodunit’ mystery and it didn’t take long for them to find out who the culprit was. She selected the photo of Christine on the opening night of one of her most well known performances, her brown eyes sparkling and the striking blue satin dress she wore contrasted with the red backdrop of the curtains.

Webby got her step ladder and took the one photo she needed and pinned it to her board, the red lines connecting with the other relatives of Scrooge. The young duck stood back and admired her work as her door creaked open. She turned to greet the visitor, expecting the one of the usuals: Huey, Louie, Dewey, Lena or Violet but she never expected the man she admired herself, Scrooge McDuck, to be standing there.

“Mister-! Mister McDuck I...I wasn’t expecting you!” she screeched as she fell off the ladder in a panic only to be caught by the billionaire, who managed to catch her just in time.

“Woah! Easy there lass! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he chuckled as he placed her back on the ground and picked up his cane that he had dropped.

“I...I just didn’t think you’d ever come into my room so you startled me!” she said scrambling back to her board and trying to cover it with the curtain on either side.

“Webbigail, what are you hiding-?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all! Nothing suspicious of your family history or your genealogy! Nope!”

“Um...you should slow down you might trip-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the young duck tripped over her legs and she fell to the floor once more, the curtain ripping and exposing the board of the McDuck family that she was so desperately trying to hide.

The Scotsman was silent as he stared at the board filled with photographs, documents and red string.

“Webby...did you do all of this?”

“Yes! No! I...yes I did,” she said, her cheeks flaming red with embarrassment.

It wasn’t that she was embarrassed showing her interest for the McDuck family. She loved every aspect of the crazy family and the fact that she got to go on adventures with them daily was a dream come true but the very duck she idolized, witnessing her efforts...it was a different story. It was like being a proud fan of a famous pop star. You didn’t mind showing off your love of them to your friends or the world and it’s okay because what is the chance that the pop star will see it? But then one day said pop star rocks up at your house unannounced and see your room full of posters, merchandise and it’s just mortifying.

Even though she lived under the same roof as the billionaire, there were at least a hundred rooms in the mansion. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to be in her room but there his stood.

Standing in her room and looking at her life’s work.

“Is this...is this my whole family?” he asked, gently trailing a finger from one picture to another, following the red string.

“Yes...well no...there’s a few distant relatives, a couple family friends and on the extended side-”

She went around the board and pulled out the hidden extension, making the board twice as long. On the board there was a list of all of Scrooge’s enemies, acquaintances, family friends he didn’t really consider family friends, distant relatives that he didn’t even know were relatives, cousins twice removed and the employees at the Money Bin.

His jaw dropped and Webby felt her stomach churn in panic.

“You...you did all of this yourself?” he murmured, reaching out to touch a photo of him and the boys.

She looked down to the floor, clenching her hands into fists. There was no point in lying and even if she did, she was a terrible liar.

“Yes. It’s my life work. I know it’s kinda creepy especially since you’re here now and looking at it all-”

“Lass this is amazing!” he said excitedly.

“-And I know that it’s weird collecting information that you probably already know- Wait what? Did you just say-?”

“You heard me! It’s amazing Webby! And with regards to your previous statement...I think you might have more information than the official McDuck archives! This’ll give Quackfaster a run for her money!” he laughed before looking through the extended board more closely.

“I...I...Thank you...I’m glad you like it,” Webby said, in shock that the Scrooge McDuck said she might have more information than the archives she had spent years trying to get into until the boys came along. “I...I mean it’s nothing in comparison to your parent’s home. That castle is filled to the brim with McDuck history.”

“While that may be true, you have documented accounts of every adventure we’ve had so far. The current archives haven’t documented my adventures since my last one which was quite a while ago and I’ll bet me lucky dime that you know all the history already?” he asked with a smile and Webby couldn’t contain her excitement.

It was like a dam inside her exploded, her passion leaking from every feather on her body. She rushed around her room, collecting maps, postcards and her trusty journal.

“I know as much as I’ve read! My knowledge on certain people was restricted initially but when Louie, Huey and Dewey moved in, they’ve given me access that I never would’ve had. Going on adventures with you guys helps too!” she said cheerfully, showing him the journal of carefully curated adventures they’ve been on completed with drawings.

Scrooge leafed through her journal gently, being careful to read the first few pages before handing it back to her.

“Bless me bagpipes, this is impressive Webbigail! I’m a little surprised I haven’t seen this sooner.”

“O-Oh, it’s not like I hide it or anything. You’re always so busy at the Bin and after we come back from adventures, we can be a little tired. It’s also a history of you and you know a lot about your family anyway-“

“I was talking about why you haven’t showed me.”

“Oh...well I um...it is a little weird. I know Huey, Louie and Dewey support me wanting to learn about your family but...it’s not every day that the duck you look up to waltz into your room and sees that you’re passion is the history of him and his family. It’s an obsession and even though you are fully aware that I like your family history, it’s different seeing a huge board leaking with information.”

“I think it’s spectacular! If anyone tells you different, then they have no taste. You can tell them that the richest duck in the world told you that,” he said as he straightened his hat and gave her a smile.

Webby giggled, her face still warm from the previous embarrassment but a comforting warmth spread through her body.

“Hmm...I’m sure there’s an internship at the archives... I’ll have to ask Quackfaster,” he murmured and Webby felt her heart grow a thousand times bigger at those words.

“But there was a reason I came here before seeing your work-”

“Oh is it a new adventure? I’ll start packing!” she squealed but he gently grabbed her hand to stop her from running off.

“That reason is to apologize to you, Webbigail.”

Her giggling stopped before she looked up at him, a confused expression on her face.

“Apologize? For what?”

The duck looked down, regret on his face.

“Remember when you and the boys found out the truth about the reason Della was gone...the day we were all trapped on the Sun Chaser? I told you...you that you weren’t family,” he said, wincing as if the memory physically hurt to remember.

Hearing those words again was like a punch to the gut.

Webby would be lying if she had to say she hadn’t cried herself to sleep that night, those words echoing in her head. After rescuing her grandma from Black Heron, Scrooge had given her honorary family status and the title of his great niece.

But all of that was ripped away in a sentence that day.

“Yeah...I remember,” she said, her voice already wobbly.

She took a seat on her bed and he joined her, placing a hand on her shoulder

“I wasn’t thinking rationally and I let my emotions get the better of me. Bringing up Della and being blamed for the reason she was gone...it reopened a wound that had been festerin’ for years. I’m sorry Webbigail, you and your grandma are family and mean the world to me. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you Mister McDuck,” she said and jumped into his arms to hug him.

He was frozen at first but recovered quickly as he hugged her back.

“That’s Uncle Scrooge to you missy,” he smiled and when they broke off the hug, he was startled to see that she had tears dripping down her face.

“Oh no, no crying today. Here you go, lass,” Scrooge said as he gave her a handkerchief and she blew her beak loudly, smiling happily through the tears.

“Now, I’ve already told the boys that we’re going on an adventure to find the ancient texts of Lalakii that were lost in a raid hundreds of years ago. The Lalakii tribe is desperate to get them back and we need to return it to them. Any treasure we find is ours, per the agreement I made with them, but those texts are our main priority. We leave for the Frenzy Jungle in an hour.”

Webby nodded as she wiped away the last of her tears, the load of emotions ebbing away slowly.

“Oh and Webby, I’d like to go on an adventure with you. I’ve been on so many with the boys but only one with you and we made a great team then. What do you say? I’ll even pack in your favourite drink!”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, shaking with excitement.

“Great! I’ll see you downstairs in an hour! I need to go pack.”

“Wait Mister- I mean Uncle Scrooge...you know my favourite drink?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. She knew he had difficulty remembering it last time.

“Of course I do! It’s juice like you said after we saved your granny,” Scrooge said with a grin before walking out of her room whistling a happy tune.

He heard her let out a squeal of happiness and as he walked down the corridor he felt a weight lift off of him. He had been carrying that on him for months but after the return of Della and the Moon invasion, he was always preoccupied. But after properly apologizing to Webby, someone who he really cared about, it all felt right.

“Alright, now time for a new adventure!” he said as he pulled out his phone and dialed Quackfaster.

“Morning Quackfaster! I’m about to go on another adventure-”

“Ugh, Scrooge you know I can’t keep up with your adventures! The last time I went with you and Donald, I nearly-”

“No, no. You don’t need to come with. You remember Webbigail Vanderquack?”

“The crazy girl who’s obsessed with your family history and wouldn’t stop trying to get into the archives?”

“That’s the one,” he chuckled as he turned right to his bedroom. “Is it possible for her to be added to the database for the archives?”

“Sir...that database has every shred of your family history. Are you sure about granting Webbigail access? She isn’t directly related to you and you know that your bloodline isn’t exactly clean.”

“Webby is fascinated with my history and I would be surprised if she didn’t know that my great great great great uncle Francis Duckley was a serial killer. If you add her to it, you won’t have to catalogue every adventure I go on. Webby has a whole journal about every single adventure I’ve been on up to date. She can help you around the archives.”

“Hmmm...I don’t need help running the archives but having an assistant to catalogue your adventures will help immensely. Especially with how often you’re going on trips these days now that Della’s back,” Quackfaster replied, a smile in her voice. “Fine, I’ll add her but it’s your responsibility to make sure she doesn’t abuse the system.”

“Excellent! Now, I must go pack. I’m off to Frenzy Jungle!”

#ducktales #webby vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #vanilla107 writes #fanfiction #my writing #della duck #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck

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zrtranscripts · 5 years

Text

Season 8, Mission 29: King of Kings

Red God

JODY MARSH: Decent view of the sea from these hills on Mor Island, Five. Tom would have loved it. Look at those clouds. There's a hell of a storm closing in.

SAM YAO: Yeah, and it's not the only thing. Janine reckons Shona will be coming straight here from Shipwreck Cove. Her V-types are probably marching across the ocean floor right now.

PAULA COHEN: The storm's scared the gulls away, so there's nothing to warn us when they're close. The Undaunted's patrolling to intercept. Janine just transferred aboard to give tactical advice. If V-types take the island, Amelia will nuke it out of desperation. Janine doesn't have long left.

JODY MARSH: Shona will get past the Undaunted, Five. I can feel her in my mind, gloating. It's horrible.

SAM YAO: Yeah, well, that's where we come in, right? Thanks to the laird, we know there's something in the king of the rocks ceremony that's been stopping the red fungus from conquering Mor for millennia. We don't know exactly what it is, and because she finally got her hands on the Edda, Shona and the skincoats probably do.

But if we run the ceremony, maybe we can work it out, make sure it happens. And we've got that old rhyme to work off. It's badly translated from Ancient Gaelic, but... When gale blows and the moon shines, then gather at the silver pools. Swing around the rocks that stand. Give fruit to the sea to bless the land. There's got to be a clue in there somewhere.

MORAG BROWN: Dinnae worry. No one knows this island like old Morag Brown. Also, I'm not a skincoat or driven crazy by the red fungus. Yet.

JODY MARSH: Right. We know the plan. But when Shona gets here, Sam, I've got an arrow with her name on it.

PAULA COHEN: Jody, Tom hated the way he gave into revenge. He wouldn't want the same for you!

JODY MARSH: No, but he'd understand. Peter always says I'm lucky, used to call me Clover. But the people I care about aren't lucky, are they? Owen, Ellie, Tom. She's not getting away with it, Paula, and she's not hurting anyone else I love.

SAM YAO: The storm front's already hitting the island. I know this feels like a long shot, guys, but... well, I guess we're out of options. We can't evacuate the island. Everyone's carrying the fungus. I'm all set up in the Dougals' farmhouse. There's room here to pin up all our notes from Jones, and all Ellie's research from before we came, and Frances is waiting on comms with all Dearg's research if we need it. You'd better get a move on before you lose visibility in the rain. Keep going straight. You're almost at the cave where the ceremony starts. Run.

JODY MARSH: We're in the cave where the king of the rocks starts, Sam. Still dark and gloomy in here. Still creepy egg things on the ceiling. No sign of any more pomegranate seedpods hatching out.

SAM YAO: Okay. So we know the king of the rocks used to start with lighting fires in that caves before the islanders stopped for safety reasons. We know fires make the egg things hatch.

MORAG BROWN: Aye, but those eggs aren't here every year. They weren't here when I saw this cave with Lachlan.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Um, hello. Sorry to interrupt. Frances from Dearg Island here. The seedpods look like pomegranates, did you say?

PAULA COHEN: Once they hatch from the weird egg things, yes.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Okay. Well, doesn't part of the ceremony involve throwing fruit off a cliff? Maybe when the ancient islanders started the ceremony, the fruit was from those caves, hence lighting fires to draw pods out.

MORAG BROWN: But if the ancients were throwing seedpods in the sea, wouldn't that red muck be everywhere?

PAULA COHEN: The problem is the ceremony goes back millennia. Without the account of the original in the Edda, there's no way to know how badly it's been distorted over time. All we have here is one fragment Tom managed to tear out of the Edda before Shona murdered him. We found it on... on his body, clenched in his fist. Even in his last moments, he was trying to help us.

MORAG BROWN: And what does it say?

JODY MARSH: Blessing of the silver rain. It's not much, but it has to mean something. I know it does.

SAM YAO: Guys, I'm getting a signal from the Undaunted. Patching it in now.

JANINE DE LUCA: I repeat, the Undaunted detected a V-type and moved to engage. The V-type managed to sneak into a torpedo tube. Crew is under attack. Weapons damaged. We must evacuate - [radio static]

SAM YAO: Janine? Janine, come in! I've lost her. I can't see the Undaunted out there on cams. There's just lightning, and oh God, whirlwinds over the sea. You guys have got to hurry. The next part of the ceremony happens at the rock pools on the beach where Jones landed. Get down there fast, run!

JODY MARSH: Sam, we're on the beach coming up to a big stretch of rock pools now. These waves are crazy! Wind's enough to blow you over.

MORAG BROWN: I don't see how this part of the ceremony's going to help us. It's just a wee bit of rock pooling for the kiddies before the big dance at Reesride.

PAULA COHEN: Hold on. Look, Five, down in the rock pools. Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Flecks of silver sparkling in the water.

SAM YAO: What, you mean like - like the silver stuff the V-types hate? Wait, that's in the rhyme! The silver pools.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: The silver mud is usually found underground or in ocean silt. It's very rare. But we know some of Mor's caves flood in high tide. The storm's tide could be dredging up silt, circulating it through the island, causing it to drift up through surface channels.

PAULA COHEN: Okay, but there's only tiny specks of it here. And how is that going to help us fight the V-types?

SAM YAO: Guys, there are V-types coming ashore further up that beach. They've got those weird fungus tendrils sticking out of their bodies, probably to help against the currents underwater.

MORAG BROWN: They aren't the only things landing. Look by those rocks. There's a boat coming in.

JODY MARSH: The skincoats. They must have been holding position nearby waiting for the Undaunted to be neutralized.

PAULA COHEN: They're coming this way, hooded and armed.

JODY MARSH: But Shona's missing. She wouldn't keep her hood up, not when she can boast. Everybody, head inland. The next stop is the boulder at Reesride. We need to work this out fast. We are not letting them stop us. Run!

PAULA COHEN: Sam, we're inside of the boulder at Reesride. It's right on top of a hill, looming over us.

MORAG BROWN: This is where the big cèilidh happens. It's meant to mean thanks for the gift of life, though mostly it turns into young folk canoodling.

PAULA COHEN: You know, I've been running over the medical records from Dearg. The red fungus isn't good, but in small doses, it has health benefits. Better reaction times, faster healing, slightly higher IQs. That's probably where the stories about longer lives on the Far Hebrides come from.

SAM YAO: So what, the ancient islanders used the fungus for its benefits, but had a ceremony to stop it getting overgrown?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: That jives with the models we're working out here, Sam. The seedpods are meant to be dropped from the cliffs at Heron Point. Looking at tidal patterns for this time of year, they'd end up washed elsewhere in the Far Hebrides. The fungus would stay local, but Jones triggered a pod early in another part of the island, so some fungus ended up on the mainland.

PAULA COHEN: Uh-oh. Guys, five skincoats coming out from behind that boulder.

JODY MARSH: They must have worked out where we were going, used the caves to cut us off!

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Form up, all of you. The red god has ascended! It's promised we will be united with all those buried in its soil!

MORAG BROWN: You're bloody barmy, Duncan Macallan! And I wish I'd never baked you that wedding shortcake!

JODY MARSH: We need cover. We're outnumbered. There's a bunch of villagers taking orders from the skincoats. Quick, into those trees. Frances, if you're going to work things out, now would be a really good time.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Um, well, the original mutation of the fungus seems fragile. Without the exact soil composition in the Far Hebrides, it has trouble rooting outside a host. That's why it's dying off on the mainland.

PAULA COHEN: So it'll be super desperate to make us zombies, is what you're saying.

JODY MARSH: Sam, the skincoats are coming fast. We can't get to the boulder. We need a route out of here.

SAM YAO: Hold on, hold on. Checking maps. Um, yeah, there's a cave to your east. It runs all the way to the cliffs over Heron Point, the next stop for the ceremony. The cultists probably aren't using the cave because it's full of devil's breath blowholes. It looks like they've got every other path covered. The cave mouth is in the gully to your left. Run!

JODY MARSH: Sam, we're in the cave.

PAULA COHEN: There are blowholes exploding out of the floor all over the place. Stay clear of the spurts, Five. They're strong enough to crack you into the rocks.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh my God, that's it!

MORAG BROWN: Aye, being cracked into the rocks would put us out of our misery. Those blackguards are still after us.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: No, you don't understand. The geysers, they're the key. Tidal movement is sweeping silver mud off the ocean floor into the island. Some of it will get swept into those blowholes.

PAULA COHEN: You know, some of those spurts do have a bit of a silvery tint.

JODY MARSH: And that's enough to kill the fungus?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: No, not on its own. Geysers wouldn't distribute the silver mud. The answer was in the fragment of the Edda Tom took. The blessing of the silver rain. You see there's a massive storm front over the island, whirlwinds sucking material into it. If a powerful geyser blew enough silver mud into the storm -

SAM YAO: It'd circulate in the rain like when a fish or frogs get caught in a hurricane. Thank you, Tom.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: It'd wipe out fungus across the whole archipelago. That's the ceremony! The storm kills the fungus, and the locals save a few seeds that bloom later. Storm fronts this big only happen every half-century or so. The ceremony probably started out generational, became annual. The fungus has been growing a long time since the last proper wipeout.

SAM YAO: I've got it! It was in Ellie's notes. There are three large blowholes associated with the king of the rocks. They're known locally as the three kings. One was – ! [sighs] Yeah, right. It was covered by a rockslide 20 years ago. Oh, and then there's - ! [sighs] Yeah, no, there's a museum built over the second in town. The last is by East Loch.

JODY MARSH: The skincoats are going to try and block the final blowhole so the silver rain never falls! We're almost out of the caves. The loch isn't far. Everybody, swing east as soon as we feel rain. Run!

SAM YAO: Guys, I see you approaching East Loch. The geyser's right in front of you.

JODY MARSH: We see it spurting, Sam. It is glittering silver!

FRANCES DEMPSEY: The storm only just started passing over that part of the isle. Once the whirlwinds hit the geyser, they'll begin sucking up the silver.

PAULA COHEN: We're really close to the Reesride boulder. Oh hell, there's more skincoats and their islander acolytes guarding the geyser.

MORAG BROWN: Why, I recognize those two. Don't think those hoods fool me! You're Danny Butch, Meg Butch's boy, and you're Lisa Gale, the little kleptomaniac! Shame on you both! What would your mothers say?

SAM YAO: Uh, they're running away. Well, so are the skincoats behind you... Oh, good job, Morag.

JODY MARSH: I don't think they're running away from her. Look at the boulder up on the hill. It's moving! There's a lot of V-types pushing it.

PAULA COHEN: Do you think... could that boulder block the geyser? In the rhyme, it says the rocks that stand. That must be the point. That it doesn't get moved, and if something has moved it, the rhyme says they have to stand it up again so the blowholes don't get blocked.

JODY MARSH: The skincoats must think so. It's coming this way down the hill. Everybody, out of its path, away from the blowhole! Run!

SAM YAO: Jody, are you guys all right?

JODY MARSH: We're fine, Sam. We got away. But that boulder landed on the geyser. There are V-types around it making sure it's in place. The blowhole's blocked. It's too big to move. We'd need 50 people.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Then there's no way to stop the red fungus.

AMELIA SPENS: Sam, Five, anyone, do you copy?

SAM YAO: Amelia, where are you? Where's Janine?

AMELIA SPENS: We just came ashore in a life raft. We're hiding in a cave. The Undaunted is evacuating. Most of the crew turned V-type. Janine's unconscious. I can't wake her.

SAM YAO: Yeah, I see the Undaunted on cams. It surfaced near the cliffs. There are V-types clinging to the hull, red veins all over the sub's body. The fungus is growing around it. It's crushing it! [explosion] Oh my God! The Undaunted just exploded! It's – it's exploded!

AMELIA SPENS: The captain stayed behind to scuttle the ship. The nuclear materials will be contained in the wreckage. It was all we could do.

SHONA REID: Runner Five! I still have Tom's headset. Are we having fun?

SAM YAO: It's Shona. She's just come ashore on a skiff, near Reesride, surrounded by V-types.

SHONA REID: I felt that explosion, but it's too late. I keep telling you the island is mine.

SAM YAO: The Undaunted explosion, it's caused a rockslide. It's – it's sheared off a layer of the cliff's rocks. It... oh my God. Underneath, there's just... just red fungus entwined with the rock. Oh, so much. The whole island must be absolutely full of it.

SHONA REID: The ceremony's over. There's nothing you can do now. It's the dawn of the red god, and you're all going to be part of it.

#zombies run #zrs8 #s8m29 #king of kings #zr transcript #zrs8 spoilers

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tabletopinfinities · 5 years

Text

Seattle Random Encounters Table

Some bonus content for this week - an appendix to the campaign outline featuring random encounters for the city of Seattle (or adaptable for other urban fantasy games). Because I personally love a good random encounter table. Available below the cut and also added to the Seattle campaign outline.

APPENDIX: SEATTLE RANDOM ENCOUNTERS TABLE

For those times when you want a potential complication to throw at the party, or when you want to add some improvised flavor to a street or travel scene, either roll 1d100 or choose off the list below. Not all items will make sense for all neighborhoods or times of day; use your own discretion.

Tourists: A group of tourists taking pictures. They may or may not be American.

Police Officer: A police officer, either on foot or on a bicycle, doing a routine patrol. If the PCs “look suspicious,” they run the risk of being questioned.

Construction: The road or sidewalk is blocked by another luxury apartment building under construction.

Drunk Bros: A small gaggle of young drunk men are stumbling down the sidewalk towards the PCs. They may be nothing but a harmless nuisance, but could be dangerous to visibly marginalized people.

Large Event: A marathon, parade, festival, block party, open-air concert, or other event is taking place nearby - expect crowds, closed streets, police or security presence, and/or traffic.

Common Bird: One or a flock of pigeons, seagulls, crows, ducks, geese, sparrows, swallows, or similar birds are flying nearby. If it’s summer, the crows might caw at and dive-bomb anyone who gets too close to their nests.

Common Animal: A squirrel, rat, cat (stray, shy, or a friendly sidewalk cat), dog (with owner or otherwise), or other common urban animal crosses the PCs’ path.

Reporters: A TV news crew is on the scene, or possibly several covering a major event. If the PCs aren’t careful, they might find themselves on the 6 o'clock news.

Wraith: One of the unquiet dead is manifesting in the area, possibly unnoticed by the PCs. They could be observing a loved one, dealing with a fetter, or trying to help or hinder the PCs for reasons of their own.

Homeless Person: One or a small group of homeless people are on the street nearby, sleeping, begging for change, or otherwise doing their best to exist. They’re friendly if approached, and might even have information on recent events in the area, or come to the PCs’ aid if they’re in danger.

Accident: A traffic accident happened recently. Crashed cars are blocking the road and/or sidewalk, and if the police and fire department aren’t on the scene yet, they will be shortly.

Side Passage: The PCs notice an alley, hillside stairway, or path through nearby vegetation that they didn’t notice before. It might offer a shortcut or a way to lose pursuers, but it might also lead someplace strange and liminal.

Street Performer: Someone is on the sidewalk singing, dancing, freestyling, painting, reciting poetry, or otherwise making art. They’d probably be appreciative of a tip.

Evangelists: Mormon missionaries, Christian Scientists, Hare Krishnas, O.T.L. proselytizers, cultists, or other religious types are trying to spread their good word and giving out pamphlets.

Aquatic Animals: If the PCs are near a lake or river, they might see beavers, salmon, or even river otters. In the Sound, seals, sea lions, or, uncommonly, orcas.

Crime Scene: An area has been roped off with police tape, and the cops are on the scene investigating. Hopefully it has nothing to do with the PCs, but they might stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time and wind up getting questioned.

Vampire: One of the Kindred stalks the night nearby. The PCs might stumble upon them feeding, or even become their intended prey. It could also be one of the Kuei-Jin or Laibon instead.

Belligerent Man: A man, probably struggling with mental illness and homelessness, is wandering down the sidewalk and into the street shouting and throwing things around. While likely not harmful, he can be startling or unsettling. He might also serve as a convenient distraction.

Downed Tree: A tree has gone down in the area, due to storms, disease, or hillside erosion - or is in danger of falling on the PCs right now. It might smash cars, block streets, and take out power lines.

Oddity: Some strange phenomenon is happening nearby - mysterious lights, odd noises or music, or movement in the shadows. There could be a mundane explanation, but it might be something supernatural.

Nosy Rich People: The PCs are being watched with suspicion by someone very concerned about street crime, property values, and the quality of their neighborhood. If they appear suspicious, out-of-place, or just too weird, they risk getting confronted, having the cops called on them, and/or being posted about on Nextdoor.

Uncommon Bird: A hawk, owl, bald eagle, backyard chicken wandering the streets, great blue heron (if near water), hummingbird, Stellar’s jay, pileated woodpecker, or other not-commonly-seen bird is nearby. Passers-by may try and point it out to the PCs.

Uncommon Animal: A raccoon, coyote, group of goats grazing on weeds, deer, or other animals that make themselves scarce or aren’t often in the city are nearby. They likely aren’t dangerous, but may attack if provoked.

Manhunt: Police are out in force searching the area for someone, with patrol cars, helicopters, and canine units. Anything suspicious that the PCs are doing risks drawing their attention, but the noise and chaos also makes a good distraction.

Traffic: For whatever reason - rush hour, accident, sporting event, street closures, bridge up, just because - traffic is particularly snarled in the area. If the PCs aren’t traveling on foot, they can expect significant delays.

Convention: A comics/anime/gaming convention is in town this weekend, leaking cosplayers and other nerds onto the streets.

Bygone: A Bygone is roaming nearby, potentially causing a scene or endangering the public if it’s large and highly visible. Could Marauders have set it loose to cause havoc? Can it be rescued?

Power Outage: A downed power line or other incident has left the streets dark. It could be a couple blocks or even the whole neighborhood.

High Winds: A windstorm is moving in, bringing danger from sudden gusts, falling trees and branches, downed power lines, and torrential rain.

Ride the Ducks: One of the “Ride the Ducks” amphibious vehicles is passing through, blasting music and patter through its loudspeakers. It could also be another obnoxiously twee tourist vehicle, like a brewery tour tandem bicycle. Local PCs are appropriately disgusted.

Werewolf: One of the Garou, or perhaps another Changing Breed, is nearby. They are probably in homid form, so the PCs won’t recognize them as such unless they’re on the lookout. They may cross paths with the PCs as they search for a cairn/node or try to take down Wyrm minions/Nephandi, either as friend or rival.

Students: A large quantity of students are in the area - school just got out, college tours, frat parties, or foreign exchange students sightseeing.

Protest: A protest is happening nearby, anything from a small political or labor demonstration all the way up to a major walkout, strike, or May Day protest. Police and news teams will be on the scene accordingly.

Rare Animal: A bear, cougar, or other wild animal not usually found in the city is wandering around. Potentially very hazardous.

Snow: If it’s during the winter months, snow is falling. If it’s not during the winter months, something very strange is happening. Even if it doesn’t stick, it attracts delighted Seattleites to come outside and look at it. If it does stick, the PCs will have some serious issues getting around the city.

Friendly Tradition Mage: The PCs see a mage who will be friendly towards them - this could be someone already introduced in the campaign, a background character who hasn’t appeared, a random stranger who can lend a helping hand, or someone to be determined by one of the players.

Friendly Technocrat

Friendly Orphan

Friendly Disparate

Friendly Sleeper

Hostile Tradition Mage: One of the PC’s enemies is nearby - either plotting from the shadows, heading for a confrontation, or so far unaware and hopefully able to be avoided.

Hostile Technocrat

Hostile Orphan

Hostile Disparate

Hostile Sleeper

Marauder: A wild mage is nearby - they may be making a vulgar display of themselves, or their presence may only be felt by the PCs taking their backlash.

Nephandus: A Nephandus is nearby or magickally interfering with the PCs. They could even be walking the street on some mundane task and bump into the PCs without planning to.

Mummy: The Undying are rare in the world, but Seattle’s status as a major port means it sees more than most cities. One is nearby serving the divine balance or pursuing a personal goal.

Changeling: One of the half-human, half-fairy changelings is nearby. As unpredictable as the faerie tales say, they could be curious wanderers, tricksters, or outright monsters.

Hunter: One of the Imbued is nearby, a Sleeper aware of the supernatural terrors that lurk in the world and empowered to fight them. They could be out on an unrelated mission, or they could even be hunting the PCs as evil sorcerors.

Sunny Day: The skies are blue and clear. During the spring and summer, this means everyone will be out on the streets and soaking up the warmth in parks.

Drizzle: The stereotypical Seattle day. Light rain falls throughout the day, just barely enough to soak clothes, but relentless nevertheless.

Paradox: The marks of Paradox are nearby – a strange phenomenon, charged crackle in the air, or even a Paradox Spirit manifested. This could mean that a mage nearby has suffered backlash or it could be the result of a much older event.

Fire: A nearby building or area of brush has caught fire. Fire engines are either on scene or on their way, people are coming out of buildings to look, and the air is filling with smoke.

Shifting Earth: A mudslide has washed out a hill, a sinkhole has opened up, or underground construction has caused a building downtown to sink into infill.

Local Eccentric: A beloved (or disliked) neighborhood figure is out on the streets. Their eccentricity could come from dress, behavior, feeding birds, or something else entirely. They are likely a Sleeper, although they could be more than they seem.

Celebrity: The PCs see a celebrity they recognize – a local author or musician, an actor in town for a production, or someone else they idolize but don’t know personally.

Shooting: A drive-by shooting, gunplay on the streets, or a lone shooter. The PCs are hopefully not the ones being targeted, but they may end up in the crossfire.

Assault: Someone physically assaults the PCs on the streets or they witness an assault occurring. It could be a random encounter or it could be someone with a grudge against the PCs.

Mugging: Someone attacks one of the PCs and tries to steal their valuables, likely at gunpoint. Is it worth the risk of Paradox to fight back? What if they steal something with magic properties?

Spirit: A spirit is manifesting nearby, managing its affairs, or perhaps trying to contact the PCs to enlist their aid. Not all spirits communicate verbally, or are friendly for that matter.

Street Salesperson: Someone is trying to sell the PCs something – religious texts, flowers, their new mixtape. They’re remarkably persistent.

Vigilante: Someone is patrolling the streets dressed like a costumed superhero. If the PCs are acting suspiciously, they might be risking a faceful of pepper spray and a citizen’s arrest.

Free Money: The PCs find a wallet or some stray bills lying on the ground.

O.T.L. Initiate: The O.T.L. rarely go far from Queen Anne if they can avoid it. The sigils on their clothing clearly identify them as an initiate, and they attract some looks from passers-by. If outside the neighborhood it might be a dire errand, they could be tracking the PCs, or they could just be out shopping.

Shallowing: The Gauntlet is thin here, whether as a result of location, lunar conjunctions, mythic resonance, tampering, or something else. Magick is easier to perform and spirits and wraiths may try and cross over.

Hardened Gauntlet: The Gauntlet here is thicker than normal, even for a large city. This could be the result of a ward, Technocratic influence, or the machinations of the Weaver. Magick is harder to cast, if not almost impossible.

Bright Resonance: The resonance in this area is happy, loving, warm, or some other positive emotion. This is a place where good things have happened.

Dark Resonance: This is a place where bad things have happened. The atmosphere is fearful, cold, sad, or otherwise negative. Entities with sinister motives may try to take advantage of this.

Node: A powerful node is nearby, either one hitherto unknown to the PCs or one they just coincidentally happen to be in the neighborhood of. In a large city, it’s likely someone’s already claimed it, but they may be willing to share.

Tass: A stockpile of Quintessence has accumulated here, seemingly free for the PCs’ taking.

UFO: Something unknown flashes across the sky or hovers close before flitting away – or perhaps the PCs even have an encounter. How they interpret what they see and experience will depend on their frame of reference, from extraterrestrials to angelic visitation.

Drone: A drone is hovering above the PCs. It could be a mundane hobbyist, but can they take that risk? Is the Technocracy observing them through it anyway?

Heightened Surveillance: Security cameras, guards, or other magickal forms of surveillance – this area is being closely watched. If the PCs don’t go around they risk being captured on film and run through the Technocracy’s databases, but they might not be able to avoid it.

Abandoned Artifact: Someone has abandoned something magickal and the PCs stumble upon it. It could be the property of an Orphan mage living on the streets who had to pack up in a hurry. It might even be cursed.

Tent City: A homeless encampment takes up a nearby empty field or parking lot, either sanctioned or unsanctioned. If the PCs need allies in a hurry, a friendly Orphan or two are probably among the residents. Conversely, the Technocracy could be sweeping it for undesirables.

Steiner’s Robot: One of Steiner’s robotic creations is nearby scavenging for parts. If not around Magnuson Park, what’s brought it out so far?

Mystical Sigil: A piece of graffiti, sticker, poster, arrangement of twigs, etc., nearby, is clearly part of a spell. What purpose does it serve, and does the creator even know that they’re engaging in real magick?

Ward: Something is protecting the area from interference, from spirits, hostile mages, or others who might wish the ward’s creator harm. Who placed the ward or what is it protecting?

Good Omen: A four-leaf clover, a shooting star, a rainbow, a butterfly landing on your hand, having exact change – whatever it is, it’s a good sign.

Bad Omen: A black dog watching you, walking under a ladder, seeing your doppelganger, your watch stopping – bad luck is coming up.

Familiar: The PCs see a familiar roaming around – perhaps under orders from its master, perhaps separated from its master and seeking help.

Suspicious Lurker: Someone or something unknown is following the PCs, lurking in nearby shadows or underbrush, or perhaps something is simply setting off their magickal danger warnings.

Powerful Resonance: The air in this spot fairly crackles with dynamism – some great magick or important event has left a lasting impact on this place.

Convenient Coincidence: Something unexpectedly goes the PCs’ way – a friend appears when they need a hand, a passing bus cuts off their pursuers, the billboard overhead gives them the exact inspiration they need.

Misfortune: Something befalls the PCs – a twisted ankle, a flat tire, their cell phone is out of batteries, their wallet is missing.

Green Spot: The PCs have found one of the many small parks, overgrown lots, and other verdant areas that litter Seattle. It could offer a chance to take a break, a hiding spot, or a source of power for nature mages.

Farmer’s Market: The neighborhood’s weekly farmer’s market is going on, taking up the streets and sidewalks for a couple blocks or occupying a parking lot. A good opportunity to lose a pursuer in the stalls and bustling crowds, or just to buy some fresh seasonal produce.

Unseen Helper: Someone or something moves to help the PCs, either from the shadows or remotely, using magick or other powers. Their identity and motives are currently unknown.

Awakening: The PCs see someone acting erratically, and it soon becomes clear they’re having their magickal Awakening. Do they step in to help? Or stay out of the way?

Homeless Encampment: A small group of tents have been set up nearby in a small lot or precarious spots near the freeway. If the PCs need help, the inhabitants can likely come to their aid.

No Reception: The PCs’ cell phones and/or other electronic devices have lost their signal. Hopefully it wasn’t a bad time…

Thunderstorm: Torrential rain, thunder and lightning – Seattle thunderstorms are rare but dramatic. Calling down lightning in this weather will be easy for a trained mage.

Rainstorm: Far from the typical Seattle drizzle, water pours from the sky and the gutters turn into rivers. Traffic slows down as visibility is reduced and accidents occur.

Fog: A heavy fog has rolled in to settle down until the winds blow it away. It might even be a reprise of the infamous stink fog of January 2015.

Smoke: In summer, the smoke from wildfires in the surrounding countryside often blankets the city, covering it in a thin haze and irritating eyes and throats. Outside of the fire season, this might mean a building is on fire nearby.

Heat Wave: Seattle is in the grip of either unseasonably hot weather or a dangerous summer heat wave. Beaches and forest parks are crowded and fans run in windows all night as people try to cope in a city without widespread air conditioning.

Magic/k?: The PCs witness someone doing something strange with results that could just be coincidence – but could easily be magick.

Impossible Space: Something – perhaps Correspondence magick – has twisted space nearby in physically impossible ways. A car that carries too many people on the inside, streets that turn back around on themselves, a building where going in the front entrance just takes you immediately out the back.

Time Disjunction: Either the PCs are experiencing déjà vu or something has gone wrong with the timestream – it could just be a moment temporarily looping, or parts of the future or past comingling. It could be a vision or omen, a Time spell, or a nasty Paradox backlash.

#owod #mage the ascension #mage #mage20 #World Of Darkness #trpgs #roleplaying games #rpgs #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop RPGs #Tabletop Roleplaying Games #mtas

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norton-addiction · 7 years

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THE RISE OF MR JAMES NORTON

Britain’s brightest TV star on breaking into Hollywood and whether he could be the next James Bond

Mr. James Norton is not a man to be underestimated. The first time I noticed the London-born, Yorkshire-raised actor, he was playing an earnest young lover in Death Comes To Pemberley, a cosy whodunnit set in the world of Ms Jane Austen’s Pride And Prejudice. I had him down as a production-line fop, the kind that elite English schools crank out as reliably as the Disney Club cranks out Mouseketeers. He seemed… nice. Agreeable. The sort of teacake your granny would like.

I certainly couldn’t see him pulling off someone such as Tommy Lee Royce in Happy Valley, the most haunting TV psychopath of recent years. Or earning admiring reviews from the Russians for playing their national literary hero, Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, in the all-star BBC adaptation of War & Peace. But in projects as varied as the clerical mystery Grantchester and dystopian drama Black Mirror, Mr Norton has demonstrated that enviable quality – range – and has configured his career to use it to the fullest.

“That’s the joy,” he says. “Most actors would agree that the reason why you go into the job is that there’s a hunger for experience, a general inquisitiveness. When you have a group of actors at a restaurant, everyone will try everything. It’s not just a sensory thing. It’s about wanting to suck up everything that life can offer.”

Life is offering Mr Norton, 32, a lot right now, and it couldn’t happen to a more grateful individual. His conversation is peppered with “I’m so lucky”, “It’s a privilege”, “One of the joys”, etc. His first Hollywood studio production, Flatliners, is about to hit cinemas. It’s a remake of Mr Joel Schumacher’s cult 1990 psycho horror, which starred Mr Keifer Sutherland and Ms Julia Roberts, about a group of medical students experimenting with near-death experiences. In the remake, Mr Norton stars opposite Ms Ellen Page and Mr Diego Luna. And he’s taking the lead as the son of a Russian mobster in McMafia, a BBC/AMC international co-production that stands out in the autumn TV schedules. “One of those situations where everything is in place, and all you need to do as an actor is not fuck it up,” he says.

One of the co-writers is Mr David Farr, who adapted Mr John Le Carré’s The Night Manager for BBC, which was widely seen as Mr Tom Hiddleston’s audition for the role of James Bond. So it will do Mr Norton’s chances of leapfrogging his fellow Cambridge graduate on the shortlist no harm at all. They’re both 8/1 with William Hill. “It’s nice to be in that conversation,” he says. “But I’m certainly not saying no to stuff because I’m holding out for that.”

For now, Mr Norton has asked me to meet him at the National Theatre in London. I assume he’s in rehearsals for some top-secret project (though he does confess an ambition to play Hamlet here one day), but no, he just wants to spare me an off-Tube trip to Peckham in south London, where he lives. He turns up in “vegan trainers”, made by Veja, black Levi’s and an old grey cashmere jumper, with what looks like a duelling wound on his neck but turns out to be a scar from an operation on an old rugby injury. He is profusely apologetic for being approximately five minutes late. And prays leave for another 60 seconds of my patience so he can purchase a croissant.

He’s a Type 1 diabetic and a “little munch” will ensure he doesn’t die during the course of our interview. Mr James Geoffrey Ian Norton grew up in a timeless bit of North Yorkshire and remains a country boy at heart. It is rare that he passes a body of water in which he doesn’t want to take a dip. “I love being outside, swimming in the lido or Shadwell Basin,” he says. “There’s a bridge near where my parents live where you can jump in. It’s so wholesome and English.” His dream is to have a river in his garden, so he can frolic among the trout and herons each morning. His childhood was idyllic but also instructive. Both his parents are academics, both took an equal role in domestic duties and both encouraged reasoned debates around the kitchen table. Young Mr Norton was sent to Ampleforth boarding school (posh, monastic, Catholic) and went on to study theology and philosophy at Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge, before a spell at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. People often assume he’s religious – the dog collar he wears for the 1950s period piece Grantchester doesn’t help – but he says his youthful interest in Christ was more one of “moral intrigue and the love of storytelling. I loved the gospel reading at mass every Sunday. But it became a relationship of intrigue rather than belief. And most of my degree was about Hinduism and Buddhism in any case.”

Still, you can see why he makes such a convincing vicar in Grantchester and why he’d want to break away from that mode. “I remember early on in my career people would say to me things like, ‘You have a very period face.’ I was like, what does that mean? They’d seen me in a couple of period dramas and imagined that would be my career.”

So he was elated when the supremely depressing Happy Valley came along. Ms Sally Wainwright’s critically lauded BBC series (now streaming on Netflix) gave him the chance to play a working-class ex-convict whose soul descends to the very depths of hell. “I will be forever grateful for that role,” he says. “To be given the opportunity to prove myself like that was just great.” He sees each role as a licence to go out and learn. “Not just from an academic point of view, but in an emotional, embodied way. The word we always use is empathy. There’s nothing more powerful than that. I’d never managed to empathise with a serial killer from any article about them, but when you’re actually inhabiting them, you have to learn to love them, however abhorrent they are.”

I guess it’s about getting to know the part of yourself that could kidnap and torture, were circumstances different. “It’s like undergoing a crude form of psychoanalysis on your own,” says Mr Norton, but confesses that it’s also kind of fun. “I’ve been wary talking about this because it could be misconstrued,” he says slowly. “But it was incredibly empowering not to care at all what people think, to go the other way and want people to be afraid of me. For someone like me, who goes around the whole time being very polite, to be allowed to spend some time not giving a fuck what people think was fucking cool.” He smiles bashfully. “I remember walking on set and seeing people’s reactions to me with a skinhead and tattoos. People started to treat me completely differently.”

He’s no method actor. He and his co-star, Ms Sarah Lancashire, tried to keep the mood light between scenes. But still, he found Tommy hard to shake off. “He’s so mistrusting of the world,” he says. “The sadness in that character was that he thought the world was so inherently hostile that the kindest thing he could do for his son was to take him away from this suffering. That’s dark.” He was haunted by “weird, dark dreams, me being horribly abusive”.

McMafia ought to draw on similarly dark currents, albeit in more glamorous circumstances. Mr Norton plays Alex, a “Michael Corleone-type Russian guy”, who ends up being pulled back into the family business (crime, extortion, money laundering) despite his efforts to escape. “His dad was a Mafia boss who was exiled by Putin, but Alex has tried to turn his back on that and set up his life properly, with a fiancée and a good job.” Mr Norton is particularly excited about this one. Mr Farr’s co-writer is Mr Hossein Amini, who created Mr Ryan Gosling’s tour de force Drive, and it’s inspired by investigative journalist Mr Misha Glenny’s book. The cast includes highly respected Russian actor Mr Aleksey Serebryakov (from Leviathan) plus a host of stars from Israel, Mexico, Brazil and Turkey. “It was such an interesting set,” says Mr Norton. “I don’t think there can have been many casts like it. And with what’s going on with Trump, Russia, the Panama Papers, all that, basically our show lifts up the curtain and shows what state-level corruption looks like. The Mafia isn’t a family with a protection racket in a city. It’s a multi-national globalised corporation where all the parts are linked. You always want to be chasing the zeitgeist. With this, for the first time in my life, I felt the zeitgeist was chasing us.”

On Flatliners, he seems a little more tentative, perhaps wary of incurring the wrath of fans of the original movie. “Everyone remembers it very fondly,” he says. But it was the first time he’d been let loose in a big studio. “The money, the toys, the stunts – Ellen and Diego had done all that before, but I was like this token Brit, running around having lots of fun.”

As for the other sides of success, he’s readjusting. Last we heard, Mr Norton was in a relationship with Ms Jessie Buckley, the English actress who played his sister in War & Peace, but when I ask about his love life he makes a complicated face and asks if we can avoid this particular subject. “Having this dream job, it compromises family, friends, relationship, because you’re always away,” he says. “I have 12 cousins and we’re all very close, but there have been a few family occasions where I’m the only one who isn’t there. And your relationships do take hits.”

He’s politically engaged, too – “As I think we all are right now” – but isn’t sure if and when to use his celebrity to promote his causes. “I must be the most boring person to follow on Twitter,” he says. He essayed a few politically themed tweets recently, but found the response a bit dismaying. “I tweeted a photo from an anti-Brexit march a few months ago, and said, ‘Let’s get behind a second referendum, there is hope!’ and I’ve never received so much hate and vitriol. And I thought, what’s the point? Well, there is a point, but maybe that’s not the right way to make it. Maybe it’s better to start a conversation, to listen rather than to shout.”

That doesn’t seem a bad idea. He’s itching to get behind the camera, he says. He has stories he’d like to tell. “I don’t want to be sanctimonious, but I’m interested in using my voice as an artist to…” He trails off – that English habit of not quite finishing his sentences – before remarking how much he admired Mr Ken Loach’s I, Daniel Blake, a devastating indictment of the British welfare system. But it seems his own thoughts are more to do with young men and their place in the world. He’s been reading Narcissus And Goldmund by Mr Hermann Hesse, which is about two monks taking divergent paths through the world – one as an artist, one as a thinker – at the time of the Black Death. It seems to have struck a chord.

“There’s a lot of confusion now about men’s place in the world,” says Mr Norton. “There needs to be a conversation. I’m putting together a script about how a young man deals with that confusion. We’re being pulled in different directions. I think for women, the feminist movement is a lot clearer. And we do need to redress pay inequality and, of course, men are implicated in that. But we also need to recalibrate our own position. Men whose identity is to do with being a protector and provider and full of testosterone are finding it harder.”

When it comes to redressing the gender imbalance, however, he seems more than happy to take one for the team. He is a reliable source of “phwoar”-style headlines in newspapers. “Female actors have been putting up with this tenfold for ever,” he says. “So I don’t feel male actors have a particular right to cry out about this. I don’t feel objectified, put it that way.”

#james norton #interview

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jamesginortonblog · 7 years

Link

Words by Mr Richard Godwin

Photography by Mr Mark Kean

Styling by Ms Eilidh Greig, Fashion Editor, MR PORTER

Mr James Norton is not a man to be underestimated. The first time I noticed the London-born, Yorkshire-raised actor, he was playing an earnest young lover in Death Comes To Pemberley, a cosy whodunnit set in the world of Ms Jane Austen’s Pride And Prejudice. I had him down as a production-line fop, the kind that elite English schools crank out as reliably as the Disney Club cranks out Mouseketeers. He seemed… nice. Agreeable. The sort of teacake your granny would like.

Flatliners is out on 29 September

#james norton #article #Interview #Mr Porter #photoshoot

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frecklesandthenerd · 5 years

Text

Exploring Macau and Saying Goodbye to Hong Kong

On Friday, we went to Macau. We had gone back and forth on whether to go, but in the end decided that we wanted to complete our trifecta of Not China while we were in the area. Macau is...very odd. It was a Portugese colony starting in the 1500s, and now it’s the gambling capital of Asia, with an annual gaming revenue seven times larger than Vegas. Many of the Vegas casinos were also there - we took a shuttle from the ferry to the Venetian, just to see what it was like. It was exactly the same as Vegas, just...more. We spent a very surreal hour finding a place to sell us egg tarts and eating them along the canal, and then took several more minutes to find a way out of the casino.

The Grand Canal in the Venetian (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A quick note about egg tarts - they are traditionally Portugese, and Macau and Hong Kong adopted them from the Portugese settlers. They are absolutely wonderful - eggy custard inside a flaky, buttery pie dough. I determined during our time there that even a bad egg tart was good, but the good ones are really amazing. I am excited to keep trying them in Portugal.

Egg Tarts from Lord Stow’s (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Portugese colonization of of Macau created a city with a curious combination of traditionally Chinese and Portugese architecture and religious buildings. There are a lot of temples, and a lot of churches. There are a lot of colorful European buildings with ornate balconies, and a lot of narrow streets with Chinese neon signs. This melding created some of the first recognized fusion food, as well as some interesting fusion architecture. Parts of the city are very charming. Then, when you get near the casinos, it just all gets very weird.

Covered escalators taking visitors between a foodie neighborhood and the casinos (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Colorful buildings (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A canopy-covered set of stairs that I absolutely loved (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A moderately creepy metal man on the porch of an old house (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We next went to Senado Square, which was decorated for the 70th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). We also got some free beer for World Tourism Day, which was pretty great.

Decorations for the 70th anniversary of the PRC (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Large chunks of Macau are UNESCO World Heritage Sites. There’s an entire historical walk of buildings from Macau’s past, and one of them is the Ruins of St. Paul’s, which is the facade of a 17th century Portugese church. The church was destroyed twice between the 1600s and 1800s, and eventually they stopped rebuilding it. There are giant colorful bunnies out front, and I have no idea why. Macau seems to have a thing for rabbits?

Approaching the Ruins of St. Paul’s (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Yes, the bunnies were as weird and surreal as this picture appears (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Looking down on (and through) the Ruins of St. Paul’s (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A piano in a clear glass box that was drawing all kinds of musically talented tourists (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Grand Lisboa from the 17th century Fortaleza do Monte (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Walking under decorations for the 70th anniversary (Photo/Jason Rafal)

If you go to Macau, I highly recommend walking around and getting a feel of each distinct, yet somewhat blended area - the casinos, the historical sites, and the “normal” streets where people live.

Views of Macau (Photo/Jason Rafal)

More views of Macau (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Looking up at the Grand Lisboa casino (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After we got back from Macau, we spent some more time wandering the city and waterfront in Hong Kong.

Heading to the metro in Hong Kong (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We’ve decided to start taking self portraits on trips (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Looking out at the waterfront (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Saturday was our last day in Hong Kong, and we spent it eating, walking around, and generally appreciating the city.

A majestic heron (Photo/Jason Rafal)

For breakfast we went to Australia Dairy Company, which has very little to do with Australia except that the founder may have started it when he got back from traveling there. It’s a traditional cha chaan teng, which is a type of restaurant in Hong Kong that’s focused on efficiency - they get you in, seat you at a table with strangers, give you a menu, take your order (in our case, look at which things we pointed to), bring you food, bring you a check, and expect you to leave basically immediately. The entire process takes about 15 minutes, and is rather overwhelming for westerners who don’t know what’s going on. My general advice, if you don’t want to get yelled at in a language you probably don't know, is to not ask questions or impede the process at all. Just order something, and it will be delicious.

Australia Dairy Company is famous for their scrambled eggs (because apparently Hong Kong is really into fluffy scrambled eggs for some reason). We walked in and were immediately handed English menus, because we’re giant white people, and sat down. The normal crowd orders off of Chinese menus that are under the table glass, and that menu is a lot larger, but we were happy to get the #1 and see what we got (we expected the scrambled eggs and toast, and got that but also macaroni).

After we were seated, five friends who had worked together in Hong Kong and were having a reunion were sat at our table. They were great - they asked to take pictures of our English menus, which had a cover they had never seen, and when we got the macaroni we weren’t expecting, they told us that it was indeed part of what we had ordered. They also asked how we heard about the restaurant, which I consider to be a good sign from locals, and took a picture of us under the disapproving glare of an employee.

Our breakfast (and a disapproving waiter) (Photo/Random Guy at Australia Dairy Company)

The scrambled eggs and thick white bread toast were delicious, and although I wasn’t expecting macaroni soup with ham for breakfast, that was delicious as well. Add in the milk tea at the end of the meal, and we walked away impressed, happy, and very full of liquid.

After breakfast, we took a walk to see the flamingos who apparently lived in the park next to our hotel. They were there, along with some turtles.

Flamingos doing those super weird things they do with their legs (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Sunbathing turtles (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We decided to risk taking the train to the airport, since the protest activity had so far matched what Ed had told us. Hong Kong and Taipei both have a great feature where you can check into your flight and check your bags from the downtown train station, but we decided to keep our bags with us in case. In a somewhat amusing turn of events, this made things somewhat more difficult - we didn’t have our real tickets yet, and the airport security was tightly controlling who got off the train and was allowed into the airport terminal. I only had a flight confirmation on my phone, and was getting worried that it wouldn’t be enough, but eventually they decided we were clearly just Americans going home and let us through.

I think I have to close by saying that we feel incredibly lucky to have been able to visit Hong Kong when we did. The protests started again the day after we left, and the first protester was shot with live ammunition as the clashes with police escalated. From a logical point of view, it will be very interesting to see what happens to the region, but from an emotional place, we’re heartbroken to see the violence that’s tearing the city apart.

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