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lilietsblog · 3 years

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so whenever Russian characters crop up in American/English-speaking media theres a very noticable thing where writers v often dont understand patronymics and full names.

Now, there’s two gradations of “full name” that are in use here. There is the “FIO” full name, or SGP perhaps (surname, given name, patronymic), and there is the full given name.

As an example, let’s take Ivanov Ivan Ivanovich.

Ivanov is the surname. You can tell bc of hte -ov suffix at the end. (Not the only one possible but a pretty decent indication something is a surname when it is there)

Ivan is the given name. You can tell bc Russian has a set (an expansive one) of given names and this is one of them, one of the most historically popular at that.

Ivanovich is the patronymic, it can be translated as “son of Ivan”. You can tell bc of the “ovich” suffix. There is also “evich” and for at least one name just “ich”. Colloquially they will also get shortened into just “ych” making the variation “Ivanych”. (”Y” is the letter used for transliteration of a sound that doesn’t exist in English but is considered fairly close to “i’)

To be clear, “Ivanov Ivan Ivanych” is the exact same person as “Ivanov Ivan Ivanovich”, this is hte exact same name, the only thing that changes is how formal the speaker is being about it.

Female suffixes are “evna” and “ovna”. Anna Petrovna, Anna Fadeevna. There is also “ichna” for at least one name and an antiquated “ishna” which is the colloquial alternative in some cases. Anna Fadeevna = Anna Fadeishna. This IS antiquated tho.

Coming back to our Ivanov Ivan Ivanovich, this is the “FIO” form of his name, the way it will be put on formal documents that require one’s full name. The “Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov” form is also acceptable, its just not the order you write on documents in. The patronymic (Ivanovich) always comes after the full given name (Ivan), the surname can be stuck on either side of that.

The traditional respectful address to someone you know is the full given name + patronymic. Ivan Ivanovich! Could you come over here? It’s used with plural/formal “you”. This form is also becoming obsolete in recent years but if you’re writing mid-20th-century or characters of middle age+ Ivan Ivanovich is the name to go.

(Note the difference from the address + surname form in English: Dr. Smith or Mr Smith etc. In Russian this form does not exist except several centuries back or in very very impersonal century back “citizen Ivanov” that like a policeman would use to address you. Not anyone you actually know personally. Schoolchildren will often not know their teachers’ surnames because they are all Ivan Ivanovich to them.)

Now I keep saying “Ivan” is the FULL given name. The short given name from “Ivan” is “Vanya”. This is a set linguistic fact - the set of given names in Russian is factually two linked sets, a set of full given names and a set of short given names. Some short given names can be short from several full given names, some full given names can have several short names (a person will usually pick one to use). A short given name doesn’t go anywhere on formal documents. It just follows from your full given name naturally, like conjugation. Some full given names (Gleb, Oleg, Diana, Vera) are short enough to be used as short given names too and so don’t realy have assigned short counterparts. In fact Vera can be both a full name on its own - Ivanova Vera Ivanovna - and short for Veronica - Ivanova Veronica Ivanovna.

Short names are formed through a variety of rules. There are basic requirements for the form they take as a result though. Full given names can have “complicated” consonant pairs together: Dmitriy, Aleksandr, Pavla, Anna. Short names are “simple” will almost always go consonant-vowel. Dmitriy -> Dima, Aleksandr -> Sasha, Alik or Shura (don’t ask how that last one happened, it’s a miracle of absurdity, but it’s one of the traditional shortenings), Pavla -> Pasha (well, Pavla is a rare name, you hear Pasha and you usually assume Pavel, the male name), Anna -> Anya. (”y” is not a consonant here, “ya” is a vowel sound English doesnt really have)

(As an exception to the consonant-vowel rule, when there’s a consonant pair the second of which is “l” it’s usually kept together in the short name - it’s just very simple to the Russian ear / tongue. Vladislav - Vlad or Slava, for example)

Often a name will be formed fully from the syllables / consonants of the full name, give or take changing the last vowel to the gender neutral “a”/”ya” (It will either be “a”/”ya” or a consonant). Vladimir -> Vlad, Ruslana -> Lana, Tatiana -> Tanya, Anna -> Anya, Katerina -> Katya, Dmitriy -> Dima or Mitya, Ivan -> Vanya. And then there’s the “sha” suffix tacked on as the second syllable: Pavel -> Pasha, Natalia -> Natasha or Tasha, Daria -> Dasha, Aleksandr -> Sasha, etc.

So long as they conform to these rules, you can kind of make them up. Though considering the whole of history, you’re not super likely to make up something that hasn’t been made up before you. Anna historically speaking turns into Anya, Nyura, Nyusha... -shudders-

So how are short names actually used?

As an implication of familiarity/subordination, that’s how. For the weebs in the audience, you know the ‘-chan’ suffix in Japanese? Kind of exactly like that. Japanese has more nuances, but generally if you wouldn’t call someone -chan, you shouldn’t call them by their short name. (Unless they specifically asked you to, but I think that’s a thing in Japanese too)

Short names are never paired with patronymics. The steps of formality in address are basically “Ivan Ivanovich” => “Ivan” => “Vanya”.

(There’s also formal you, so to be completely clear: “Ivan Ivanovich” (formal you) => “Ivan” (formal you) => “Vanya” (formal you) => “Vanya” (informal you). If someone is getting called their full given name + informal you, it’s either implying antiquity - pre 20th century - or they’re using their full given name as their short given name.)

You call your children and siblings by short names. You call your friends by short names. You MIGHT call your employees, especially if they are sufficiently young, or if you’ve known them for a long time and the “familiarity” part applies, by short names.

SHORT NAMES ARE NOT FORMAL. This is important. Nobody has “Natasha” written in their passport (unless I guess they were making new documents in America or something from scratch and didn’t use any old ones as basis of establishing idenity so could make up whatever. It’s still weird! It’s like having “Johnny-boy” written in your passport!)

SHORT NAMES ARE OFTEN GENDERED BUT YOU CANNOT TELL HOW WITHOUT KNOWING THE CORRESPONDING FULL NAME. “Pasha” and “Misha” are both male names becaus they are short from “Pavel” and “Mikhail”. Of course you could have a Pavla or a Mikhaila, but the former is very rare and the latter is probably a foreign Mykaila Russianified or something. In these cases it’s usually considered normal to assume gender, even if there’s a tiny chance you could be wrong.

PATRONYMICS ARE NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES INTERCHANGEABLE WITH SURNAMES. You have the same surname as your family members, but if you have the same patronymic, either you’re siblings or there are multiple people with the same given name in your immediate family, which is slightly odd. A patronymic is formed from your father’s name by unambiguous and definite rules. Foreign names can be turned into patronymics easily. (Though kids of foreign citizens can get whatever their parents want on their birth certificate - patronymic by the rules of one of the parents’ home country, no patronymic at all, whatever) Surnames are surnames and work the same way they work anywhere else.

PATRONYMICS AND SURNAMES ARE NOT CONNECTED IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER. Any surname goes with any patronymic same as it goes with any given name. Except for the obvoius “statistically likely to be from the same culture” part. (Your “Russian” character could have Georgian, Ukrainian, Armenian, Lithuanian, Bielorussian, Kazakh, Tatar descent, descent from any number of indigenous cultures on the territory of Russia that I personally never heard about until I started translating documents in high amounts and stumbling upon them. Russia is an empire!) But even that’s just statistics - you could have a Tsukino Farha Bogdanovna and I’d just go “that’s a fascinating family history right there”.

GOOGLE RUSSIAN GIVEN NAMES, DON’T MAKE THEM UP. And pay attention if something is marked as “diminutive” - that means it’s a short name, and it will not be used on formal documents or in conjunction with a patronymic. Go for the name it’s diminutive for and just have the character ask everyone to use their short name if you want - it’s trendy these days.

There’s all kinds of fuckery going on with name use on the margins - some old people will call their close friends the “patronymic + informal you” construction. (Actually it’s a “Russian babushka” stereotype that actually exists within the culture. And if anyone ever uses the “short name + patronymic” form irl it’s this category of people, though I’d imagine only in third person) Some bosses or even teachers will invite their students to call them by their short name (I am so deeply uncomfortable with this). Age is often the difference between a Vanya and an Ivan Ivanovich in the same situation.

All patronymics and a good share of surnames conjugate by gender! “Ivanov” and “Ivanova” are the exact same surname, but a guy will have the former writen in their documents and a gal would have the latter. If you legally change your gender that letter changes too. (No, there’s no gender neutral form. Some surnames, like those ending in -enko, just don’t do this, but those that do are at all times one or the other) I guess expatriates a couple of generations down could have whatever going on, but if you have an actually-born-in-Russia “Ivanova Ivan Ivanovna” that means “Ivan” is a girl with a male name for some fucking reason. Name gendering is just tradition, patronymic gendering is grammar. (And if you have an “Ivanova Ivan Ivanovich” that’s just someone making a typo) (Maybe our hypothetical Ivanova Ivan Ivanovna transitioned and liked her birth name so much, she decided to not even go for Ivanna or something else plausible, Ivan or bust. Officials would probably just shrug and go with it lmao)

Oh, and in less formal lists and situations, surname + short given name is a classical combination. When I call my grandboss, surname + short given name is how I introduce myself, because I’m much younger and much subordinate so short name it is, but she’s under no obligation to identify me from my given name so surname it is. (To people who I expect to remember my name but who weren’t expecting me to call, just surname is good, but to people who can connect my surname with my identity but probably don’t remember my given name immediately & exactly from that, giving also the form of given name they address me by is the reasonable person thing to do)

If I were introducing myself in the “Hi! I’m Tsukino Usagi!” anime intro format, I’d go for “Short given name + surname”. Short name is usually the one people think of as their personal identity as it’s whatt their close circle will have been calling them for their entire life, and ACTUALLY it’s normal for the surname to come after the given name. In a book citation of “famous doctor X did Y” they will probably be “famous doctor fullgivenname-patronymic-surname”. For a Russian speaker, switching between Japanese name order and English name order is not a difficulty, but we WILL be distressed by not being able to tell which is which and therefore which it is on sight )=

MARVEL COMICS WALL OF SHAME

- Natasha Alianovna Romanova. First, “Romanov” is not a common surname, it’s the surname of the royal family, it’s like a random English guy being called “Tudor”. Well, it’s plausible, it IS formed by the classic “common given name + -ov” rule, but Roman isn’t even that common a name (and not exactly Russian), and... well. It’s just weird. I don’t think there’s good chances for it to have come into existence as such historically WHEN IT WAS THE RULING FAMILY SURNAME. Second! Natasha is a short name! She should be Natalia/Natalya! Third... I mean I will not say Alian is not an existing male name, and I won’t even say it’s not used in any cultures that exist within Russia, but if they were aiming for “common Russian male name” they missed 180 degrees.

- Ilyana Rasputin. First, -in is a suffix that makes this surname adjective-ish, meaning it conjugates by gender, meaning she is RASPUTINA. Her brother is Rasputin. She is Rasputina. Second, again, I have heard of exactly one (1) guy with this surname, and it’s the same guy you’re thinking of right now. It is in no way, shape or form common, or reasonable to give to a character without making it a plot point. Third, Ilyana is not a Russian name that exists. Ilya is a male name, but there’s no female form. FOURTH, I distinctly remember reading a comic where she was calling her brothers “Piotr” and “Mikhail”. That’s their full names! I mean bonus points for actually finding the full names this time, but it’s extremely weird for their LITTLE SIBLING to use them! They should be Petya and Misha as far as her own speech is concerned!

P.S. “All Night Laundry” is a fantastic webcomic, but “Grandimir” is not a real name, “Grand” is not a Russian word root and will not be used in a name this way, you’re looking for “Velimir” or somethng (though that’s, like, a thousand years antiquated). Also while both the uncle and the nephew having the “Petrovich” patronymic is not that odd, Petr is not THAT rare a name and maybe their brother/father was Petr Petrovich... considering we never learn their surname, I seriously suspect the writer just confused a patronymic with a surname. Also, naming their dog the same name crosses the line into slightly weird. Who names a dog after their father? This is actually what prompted this...

#languages #russian #might not be the first rant i write on this topic #might not be the last

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hartigays · 3 years

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big brain thot: wheezie being the one to get rafebarry together👀👀

“wheeze, you can’t just show up here like this.”

she hasn’t even gotten off her bicycle yet, helmet still in place and everything. she looks up at rafe with big eyes, rolling them as slowly and dramatically as humanly possible.

“i just did,” wheezie points out, unclipping her helmet and setting it in the front basket of her bike.

rafe eyes her warily, then relaxes a bit. his eyes flicker back towards the trailer. “how’d you even know i’d be here?”

“topper,” she tells him simply, shrugging.

“topper?”

another overly-dramatic eye roll. “yes, topper. he came by looking for sarah and i asked him if he knew where you were. i need help with something.”

“and topper told you i’d be here?” rafe asks, brows raised.

topper is a lot of things, but is he the type of person to send a kid to a coke dealer’s trailer? no, absolutely not.

“i encouraged him,” wheezie replies, a little too vague for rafe’s liking. he narrows his eyes and she sighs. “fine, i kicked him in the crotch until he gave it up. happy?”

rafe snorts at the mental image.

wheezie finally climbs off her bike, standing in front of rafe with her arms crossed. “so, are you going to help me or not?”

he really doesn’t want to say yes. but he’s sort of always had a soft spot for wheezie - she’s one of two people who don’t make him feel completely homicidal.

(the other is sitting back in the trailer, smoking a joint and watching some boxing match on his old as shit tv. the thing has antennas, for fuck’s sake.)

rafe glances back at the trailer again, then turns back to wheezie, scrubbing a hand over his face. “fine. but you can’t come inside, wheeze, i’m serious.”

“why, because of drugs?” wheezie snorts, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “please. i’m pretty sure you smoked weed in my room when i was like, five.”

“that’s not the point,” rafe huffs, his fuse shortening ever-so-slightly. “just tell me what you want.”

for the first time since her arrival, wheezie looks mildly uncomfortable. she bites her lip, looking towards the treeline.

“i want to learn how to fight,” she says, and her voice sounds so small that rafe sort of feels… bad.

which is like a new milestone or whatever, so this is sort of a big moment for him.

“why do you need to learn how to fight?”

wheezie doesn’t say anything for a long stretch. then, her cheeks get red, and the words burst out of her. “i’m getting picked on at school, alright? this girl keeps saying she’s going to beat me up after class and i can only hide from her for so long, you know?”

rafe is mildly taken aback, never figuring wheezie for the type to get bullied. she always seemed self-assured and well adjusted, with a sizable group of friends and an active social life. for a middle schooler, anyway.

“what’s her name?” rafe asks, indignant on his sister’s behalf.

if he had to choose a sister to be the target of bullying, it’d definitely be sarah. wheezie, on the other hand, is just a kid. and if someone is threatening to kick her ass, rafe sure as hell is going to find out who.

“i’m not telling you her name, rafe,” wheezie says. “i don’t want you going and knocking her door down to threaten her or whatever. i want you to teach me how to fight so i can hold my own.”

rafe would probably just kill the kid, not threaten her, whoever she is. but he doesn’t tell this to wheezie, biting his tongue for once.

he rocks back on his heels, then sighs, and beckons for wheezie to follow him into the trailer.

wheezie throws her arms up as if to say fucking finally, following rafe inside.

barry is still smoking on the couch, but when he sees wheezie trailing after rafe, he has the presence of mind to put the joint out with an awkward cough.

“you gonna tell me who your little friend is, country club?”

“i’m his sister, wheezie,” she says before rafe can speak, rolling her shoulders back and holding barry’s gaze steadily.

“wheezie?” barry repeats, then laughs, wagging his finger in her direction. “you funny, kid.”

wheezie gives rafe a look, clearly judging him for his choice of company.

“jury’s still out on you,” wheezie tells barry, eyeing him.

barry actually throws his head back when he laughs this time, and rafe can’t help but eye the line of his throat, his mouth going a little dry.

the worst part is, wheezie notices him staring. she raises a brow at rafe. he just coughs and looks away, regretting every decision he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“look, she wants to learn how to fight,” rafe tells barry. “i figured two heads would be better than one?”

“or you just a pussy and know you can’t beat nobody’s ass, rafe,” barry says, reclining back on the sofa, staring at him through heavily-lidded eyes.

“neither can you,” rafe reminds him.

always reminding him. where rafe has failed, barry has too. rather consistently, as a matter of fact.

“fair ‘nough,” barry says after a stretch, leaning forward again. “two heads, then.”

wheezie coughs, and they both turn to look at her. she gives them a bored look. “are you two done having a moment? or do you still need a minute? because i can step outside if- ”

“shut up, wheeze,” rafe groans, pushing her towards the couch.

they spend the next hour and a half discussing fighting techniques, and the cardinal rules of fighting. the ones rafe and barry abide by, anyway.

there aren’t many. they spend the majority of the time discussing technique.

when wheezie gets sick of listening to them yammer on about the different types of headlocks, she starts to get restless.

“oh my god, i didn’t come for the rules of fight club, alright? will one of you just show me how to punch this bitch in the face?”

both barry and rafe shut up immediately, barry’s mouth dropping open in mild surprise.

rafe just snorts, mumbling fair enough under his breath.

and that’s how rafe ends up watching barry do some sort of shadow boxing with wheezie in the living room. rafe re-lights the joint, watching the scene before him in amusement.

“no, kid, you ain’t gotta do all that fancy shit with your legs,” barry is saying at one point, then demonstrates some sort of kick for her.

rafe forgets sometimes that barry has military training, and despite the fact that he gets his ass beat on a regular basis, he’s a pretty damn good teacher.

the joint is long gone by the time wheezie looks at her watch, cursing.

“shit. rose is gonna kill me,” wheezie mutters, fumbling for her phone.

“just tell her you’re staying at a friend’s,” rafe suggests. “it’s too dark for you to bike back anyway.”

“you could always drive me, you know,” wheezie reminds him. then, her eyes flicker down to what’s left of the joint (basically, the filter) and backtracks. “well, he could.”

she’s pointing at barry, and barry shrugs.

rafe, however, finds himself wanting wheezie to stay. dare he say it, he might’ve actually missed his sister.

he’s pretty sure he’ll regret it later, but regardless he says, “we’ll get you something to eat and you can crash here if you’re too tired to go home after.”

something to eat ends up being freezer-burnt pizza rolls, but wheezie doesn’t complain. she eats her food while scrolling through her phone, glancing up at rafe and barry every now and then.

they’re conversing quietly about a drug deal they have set up later, a big one. rafe doesn’t think wheezie is listening, but he also doesn’t notice the way she keeps glancing up at them, her eyes flickering between them with an unreadable look on her face.

and then, out of nowhere, “are you guys dating?”

rafe looks at her sharply and he sees barry do the same out of the corner of his eye. barry’s mouth had shut so quickly that his teeth clacked together, and rafe can see him rubbing at his jaw.

“what the hell, wheeze?”

wheezie raises her hands in mock-surrender, but still rolls her eyes. “it’s just a question, geez. but thanks for the answer.”

“the fuck is she talkin’ about?” barry asks, his gaze flickering between rafe and wheezie.

“you two,” wheezie explains slowly, looking almost bored. again. rafe is starting to think he’s had a bad influence on her. “you’re dating, right? like that’s why you’re always here, right?”

the latter question is directed towards rafe, and he feels his stupid cheeks betray him, burning red.

“oh, right. you’re men, of course you haven’t talked about it,” wheezie sighs, then stands up and brushes invisible crumbs off her shorts. “well, i conveniently have to use the bathroom, so. use this time wisely, i guess?”

then wheezie disappears from the small kitchen, leaving rafe and barry sitting in thick, palpable silence.

“so… what the fuck just happened?” rafe asks when he can’t take the uncomfortable silence any longer, pointedly not looking at barry.

when barry shifts in his seat, rafe can feel it, and he realizes all at once just how close they’re sitting.

“she thinks… “ barry trails off, shifting in his seat again.

“that we’re dating,” rafe finishes, swallowing around the golf ball-sized lump that has mysteriously appeared in his throat.

rafe can feel barry looking at him. he can feel the heat of his gaze, and wow, wheezie is taking a really long time in the bathroom.

“that what we been doing, country club?” barry asks, and rafe looks over at him so quickly that his neck pops.

rafe searches barry’s face for any trace of humor, but comes up empty.

they’ve been practically living together for months, ever since rafe gave up trying to please ward and joined barry’s little side business. and if he really thinks about it, they have lapsed into something almost nauseatingly domestic.

it’s like. like rafe’s been in this weird, fucked up relationship this whole time, and he’s just now realizing it. and realizing, at the same time, that he doesn’t want it to end now that wheezie has gutted them both and laid everything out in the open, where neither of them can hide.

jesus fucking christ, is he in love with barry? barry the drug dealer?

well, rafe supposes that’s what he would call himself now, too, so. maybe it makes some sort of sense after all.

“i don’t think so, but i think we should now,” rafe finally says. he doesn’t know why he says that last bit, it just sort of slips out before he realizes what he’s saying.

but he doesn’t take it back either.

barry is too quiet next to him. the silence goes on for far too long, and rafe is starting to debate internally whether or not he should dump wheezie’s body in the swamp or somewhere off shore.

finally, barry speaks. “startin’ to think you may be onto somethin’, rafe cameron.”

“so is that a yes?” rafe huffs, already feeling exposed enough as it is. he doesn’t need barry speaking in shades of gray.

suddenly, there are fingers wrapping around his jaw, gentler than rafe would’ve anticipated, and then barry is turning rafe’s head and kissing him.

like, really kissing him. rafe feels like he’s being turned inside out, his insides shifting and adjusting, rearranging and adapting to make room for barry.

it’s not a particularly long kiss, but it’s sure as hell the best one rafe has experienced in his life.

“they teach you that in the army?” rafe asks when barry pulls away, aiming for nonchalant but failing due to the heavy rise and fall of his chest. and the fact that he can’t stop staring at barry’s mouth.

barry just smacks the back of rafe’s head, shoving him lightly. “get the fuck out my kitchen, country club.”

rafe is about to respond when the bathroom door opens, and wheezie pokes her head out.

“ugh, thank god you’re finally done. you should invest in a bathroom fan, you know,” wheezie tells barry, “i could literally hear everything.”

she shudders and gags, barry laughs, and rafe vaults himself out the nearest window.

well, he tries to. barry catches him by the waist easily, dragging him back into his seat. wheezie just rolls her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“okay, well, since you’re done being a drama queen, i think i’d like that ride home now.”

#rafebarry #outer banks #fanon rafe and canon rafe my beloveds #thank u for the request!! <3 #my fics #ask #anon

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firecatvariant · 3 years

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Obey Me Character Thoughts

Just my thoughts about the Obey Me characters. (as a beginner player)

Backstory: I discovered Obey Me through a friend who plays and posts about it, and discovered it was made by the same company as my previous otome game, Love Tangle, so I gave it a shot and got pretty (ok, extremely) hooked. I am currently Level 83 on Lesson 31 of the main story, but because I like spoilers I pretty much have a good idea of what happens up to Lesson 60. I've also done a lot of the LD side lessons. These are just my current takes on the characters, it may change in the future! (Pictures are some of my favorite cards, collected or not, all artwork belongs to NTT Solmare of course)

**Lucifer **

Tbh, at first I thought he was going to be my #1. But he can be ... a little too uptight for my liking. A little too arrogant (though I guess that's the point of his avatar). His Dad personality does make me laugh though when it comes out. The moments where he's soft and sweet make me swoon, but I couldn't see myself dating someone like him IRL. I’d be too afraid of messing up all the time. Even though he's handsome as fuck. And super sexy. He's definitely my #2, but I just don't think I could choose him over my #1 if it ever came down to it. I do like reading head cannons and NSFW fics of him though. I’m not big on the “Luci” nickname either, but I’m not sure what I’d call him.

Mammon

Mammon kind of annoys me tbh. 😂 He's cute, in a puppy-dog tsundere way, and I think he'd be an awesome friend. But someone like him would get on my nerves IRL after a while, and I don't think I'd be able to put up with it. His sweet side is incredibly cute, but I could only ever see him as a friend, or maybe a FWB, but never as anything serious. But I think overall he means well, and really cares for (loves) the MC. I saw the nickname “Mamoney” once and I love it for him.

Leviathan

Levi is another one I originally thought would be in my top 3, based on his character design (he's super cute) when I first saw the game, but his personality makes me feel more protective and wanting to uplift him and boost his confidence rather than be in love with him. I want to be his friend, and support him. I do like some of the same stuff as he does, and I've dated hard-core Otakus IRL before. But any affection I'd give him would probably be platonic. I think I'd enjoy teasing him as well. Like everyone else, I just call him “Levi”.

Satan

My number 1, my husband, my dream guy, my ideal character ... it's so hard not to gush about him. He's everything I'd want in a guy: intelligent, well-read, has a sense of humor and a mischievous streak, adores cats as much as I do, can be super sweet, is probably amazing in bed ... even the anger management issues aren't a big deal to me, as I've dealt with that before. He's just perfect to me, and I eat up all NSFW fiction of him (and any other head cannons and fics and artwork tbh). I guess I'm just a _little _obsessed. I’m not big on the nicknames I’ve seen given to him (Tannie, TanTan, Catan, etc) so I call him “Sachan”.

Asmodeus

I didn't like Asmo at first, but he grew on me. I couldn't see myself with him in a romantic relationship, but I can imagine he is the type of guy I'd want to be best friends with. Shopping, gossiping, makeovers - who doesn't want that in their life? (OK, a lot of people aren't into that stuff but I don't mind it) And he's incredibly caring and sweet towards the MC. And like everyone else, he’s just “Asmo” to me.

Beelzebub

I LOVE, love this boy. He's so, so sweet. He's my #3. He's not only incredibly sexy, he's adorable, cute and sweet as hell. I could imagine him making an amazing boyfriend/husband. And I also like food, maybe not as much as he does but I'd love visiting restaurants and eating with him. And he's protective and would be so comforting and safe. I love the shortening of his name to “Beel” as well.

Belphegor

Belphie's a brat and I kind of love it, tbh. He cracks me up and makes me smile with his dialogues, but I definitely view him as a younger brother type (as the baby of the family.) Any affection also would be strictly platonic as well, but I'd enjoy cuddling and hanging out with him. I don't even mind he tried to kill the MC, because what he went through was understandable. Like everyone else, he’s just “Belphie” to me.

Diavolo

Diavolo is a treasure. One moment he's sexy and romantic, another moment adorably sweet. He's so positive and optimistic. I can't really see me in a relationship with the Prince though, no matter how adorable I think he is. And I think he'd support whatever choice my MC makes (at least I hope he would). I DO think there’s a major storm brewing between him and Lucifer in the future though, and it makes me excited, but also sad at the same time. I love “Dia” for him, it’s cute and casual.

Barbatos

I don't have much of a connection with Barbatos yet, so I don't know much about him. He seems like he's kind, dependable, and scary when upset. I'd like to get to know him better, but I couldn't imagine having any sort of romantic feelings towards him. Does he have any nicknames? I’m not sure.

Solomon

Everyone says Solomon is an ass, and he kind of is. But I find that endearing. I guess I just think being a bit of an asshole can be funny at times (especially in the game, he cracks me up) and even though he seems kind of shady, you can tell he genuinely cares for the MC, and is even a little in love. He's like the background guy friend that is secretly in love with you but doesn't have much of a chance. I really want to get to know more about him. No nickname.

Simeon

He's a sweetheart. And definitely not as angelic as he originally appeared to be. He's another I feel secretly loves MC, but another I'd be strictly platonic with. But I still need to get to know him a little better, and I definitely like him a lot more than I thought I would. No nickname, unless you use his pen name.

Luke

Is baby. He's like a tiny little brother that is there for fun, and I want to protect and indulge him and basically treat him like my own kiddo. It still feels weird to have a character like him in an otome game, but he's definitely adorable.

My MC

Is of course, based off me. She's female, and she represents the better part of me when I'm making my choices, or the parts of me I wish I could be. Her name is Kana. I've always had my MCs/OCs kind of based off characters like Aoi Sakuraba from Ai Yori Aoshi and Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket because IRL I strive to be like them. Sweet, kind, understanding, loving, maybe a little naive. Sees the best in people, but not afraid to say what she thinks or get involved in other people's business because she wants to help. Maybe that's a little boring, but it's what I try to be.

What I imagine my MC too look like (a lot like myself)

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me shall we date

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silvercrane14 · 3 years

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Why you should watch Ookiku Furikabutte aka Oofuri

A little history!

• Ookiku Furikabutte- popularly shortened to Oofuri and translated as Big Windup- is a manga created by Higuchi Asa, a female mangaka from Urawa, Saitama. She first published Oofuri in Afternoon, in 2004. The manga is still ongoing.

• She graduated from university with a major in sports psychology, which shows in her work!

• She has won both the 10th Tezuka Osamu Cultural Prize for best creative work and the 31st Kodansha Manga Award for general manga for Oofuri

The plot!

Oofuri follows main character and pitcher Mihashi as he enters a new high school. Scarred by his traumatic experience at his middle school, where his team despised him and refused to cooperate with him, he swears off playing baseball ever again. However, he can’t resist taking a peek at the fields of his new school, where he’s dragged into the team by the coach, Momoe Maria. This baseball club is only just starting out, with ten players, and Mihashi realizes that there he can still be a pitcher.

The characters

The main character, Mihashi, is bit much at the beginning. He has no self-confidence and speaks haltingly, so it’s hard to understand him at times. As someone with social anxiety, I see Mihashi as very similar (although a bit more extreme) to me. I’ve also seen him headcanoned as autistic, although as a non-autistic person I can’t say how accurate that is.

Abe, the catcher to Mihashi’s pitcher, and his partner in most things. Despite them being partners, Abe has a hard time understanding Mihashi. He has a short temper and a mysterious disdain towards pitchers, due to a bad past experience in middle school, which left an impact on him that shows, even later in the series.

The coach, Momoe Maria! That’s right- the coach is a woman! And she’s a really good character on top of that! She restarts the club as a hardball club and rebuilds it from the ground up. When she was a student, she was the manager of the team, with one other member. But who was this mystery member, and why haven’t they come back to visit?

Shino’oka, the manager! Another female character that contributes a lot to the team. She does most of the data collecting, food prep, etc. the team would truly be lost without her.

Other notable players on the team-

• Tajima, the team’s genius cleanup. Despite being great at everything, he lacks the height and strength needed to be a cleanup. He’s a very fun character, and someone who can understand Mihashi. I’ve seen him headcanoned as having ADHD, but again I don’t have ADHD so I can’t verify that.

• Hanai, who has the height and strength that Tajima lacks. He has a rocky start at the beginning of the show, but he’s a character that I genuinely like. You can see his growth as a character and a player throughout the series.

Here I’d gush about the other members of the team, but honestly that’s too much information for a post trying to get people to watch the show, so I’ll just tell you that the rest of the characters are amazing. Outside of the baseball team, there’s a cheering squad, led by Mihashi’s childhood friend, that supports the team later on in the series.

Other reasons why you should watch!

The characters all care for each other a lot

They are all so close that you could ship anyone on the team and I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. They are all friends and have very close relationships.

The art style is really cute! Although it’s an older show, the animation isn’t that bad and I really enjoy watching it. (four times)

Sports psychology plays a large part in the show! They talk about training specifics, caloric intake and meals, meditation, how stress can impact plays, etc

Tired of sports anime parents being dead or missing? Look no further! Oofuri has /plenty/ of parents, which all have names, different personalities, and interests. The mothers (and some of the fathers!) show up to the games to cheer. They also become friends with each other, and seeing their interactions is always fun and interesting.

Mihashi makes a bunch of really fun facial expressions, and he’s not the only one! Nearly every character has a moment where they get chibi-fied or have an otherwise funny face.

The humor (in my opinion) is really funny! The characters all interact very well with each other and bounce off each other in funny ways.

There are a lot of great fan artists! @arunneronthird , @jeremy-pakhitou, @watmels , and @queenoftheantz are all really good artists who have drawn for Oofuri, although they aren’t the only ones!

Genuine boys being boys!

The female characters aren’t overly sexualized! The coach has large boobs, but the camera never focuses on them unless the other characters themselves do (this only happens once or twice because. They’re teenage boys. It’s also a character on another team, and he’s not ogling them) they’re also never put in revealing outfits, and there’s no fan service!

The other teams are actual people! They all get names and focus, which is something similar to Haikyuu. The players all joke around with each other and have nicknames for each other, and you can tell there’s a story beyond the one Higuchi-sensei is telling.

Characters are reoccurring. It’s almost guaranteed that you’ll see another character or at least their team again.

The openings and endings are really, really good

It deals with things like injuries in sports, bullying, anxiety, etc

Hand holding is a major plot point

Reviews

@liberolover24- I'd say honestly an 8/10 since it really is underrated in regards to popularity and other big sports anime. It's also very wholesome and digs into the feelings of the main character who goes through a lot of self deprecation but despite all that hes still wants to try his best and train himself to get better throughout the series. It's also comedic and family friendly

@stylinbreeze60- Oofuri belongs in the category of coming-of-age stories. A good swath of the manga’s drama and appeal rests in futile attempts to communicate as individuals, letting Higuchi display her understanding of communication and inner conflict. Higuchi’s skill as a writer emerges in her handling of exposition- the two talents Asa Higuchi most excels in are complex characters and an intricate understanding of human behavior. A 7/10 if I’m being harsh like an ice skating judge. 9/10 if I’m being biased.

@certified-catboy- 10/10. The character development is immaculate. I don't know what else to add but if you're into character development then consider putting Oofuri on your watchlist.

My mom- 8/10. Didn’t like it at first but would definitely watch a third season if it came out. Enjoys the characters.

Me: 10/10. I’ve watched the anime four times and reread the manga twice, and if that doesn’t convince you that it’s a good show, I don’t know what else will. Also Momoe (the coach) crushes an entire orange in her hands in the first episode.

Similar shows:

Nine Dragons’ Ball Parade

Given

Haikyuu

Daiya no Ace

Tsurune

Natsume Yuujinchou

In conclusion- go watch Oofuri!

#ookiku furikabutte #big windup!#Oofuri #crane screams #abe takaya #mihashi ren #momoe maria #hanai azusa #tajima yuuichirou #Shino’oka Chiyo #long post

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mostly-delusional · 3 years

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A Kanej diwali fic

"That's the third time you've tugged on your sleeve in the same minute and it's setting me on edge for no particular reason."

Kaz halted his movements, his right hand hanging in mid-air as he was about to fiddle with his sleeve, unrolling and rolling it again. He glanced at Jesper standing beside him and raised his eyebrows.

Jesper continued, "Honestly, Kaz, it's only been a month since you last saw her. It shouldn't be that hard. Besides, you're going to need a lung transplant soon enough if you keep panting like a dog."

Kaz was thoroughly annoyed. He had been occupying the same spot for what felt like hours with Jesper's continuous babble ringing in his ears. The black leather gloves that usually covered his hands were safely tucked away into the pocket of his jacket. Without them, he felt as if he was stripped naked, all his scars put on display for people to gawk at. His clothes were different from what he preferred wearing. The regular white shirt had been replaced by a plain black kurta with a pathan jacket resting above it, the collar of which prickled his neck. The cane's head felt cold under his palm. Everything felt too foreign, too loud and too wrong.

The glittering lights, lavish rugs and sophisticated folk of Ravka were far cry from the sordid streets of Ketterdam, where crimes were committed as effortlessly as breathing. Everything about the land Kaz stood on screamed of elegance and culture. It made him want to hop on a ship and dive back into the mayhem the Barrel had to offer.

Crossing the true see and visiting the land of Grisha hadn't been a choice. Two weeks ago, Kaz had entered his office in the crow club only to be greeted by an envelope sealed with the double eagle of Ravkan royalty. He had contemplated tossing it among the pile of documents he deemed unnecessary, but a blue geranium placed beside it had changed his original course of action. There had been no whispers of the Wraith being in Ketterdam, but it was not a surprise. Inej was like a phantom passing from one world to another, keeping away from notice.

Although, why she had been the one to deliver a message from the king of Ravka was still a mystery to him.

Kaz did not know what he had expected to be in the letter but it definitely wasn't what he had found upon opening it. Apparently, things were getting a little too boring for his royal highness and he felt the need to organise a little "get-together" for all those who had dedicated the previous months in fighting against the Darkling. As it turned out, nothing about the occasion was little.

A multitude of people occupied the halls of the Little Palace for what everyone around him kept calling Diwali. Kaz remembered Inej talking about how she celebrated the festival with her parents and cousins as a child. But that was all he could recall from the day because he'd been too busy trying to count the moles on her neck as she had sat on the window of his office, her head tipped back against the wall. The setting sun had casted a glow around her and Kaz had been unable to look away.

"Where's Wylan?" Kaz asked in hopes of avoiding another rant from Jesper about how exquisite the palace looked or how much money even a single gem from the chandelier hanging above would cost. "Why don't you go and trail after him like a lost puppy, as you usually do?"

Jesper puckered his face into a scowl, his lips forming a pout that made Kaz want to smack his face repeatedly. "You shouldn't be the one to talk about puppies seeing that you almost drool at the sight of Inej. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"If both of you would stop bickering like an old couple, you would have noticed that she entered the room five minutes ago."

Every single muscle in Kaz's body seemed to tense at Nina's words. His eyes scoured the crowd in desperate attempts of catching a glimpse of the one person he'd been dying to set his sight on.

"Let's give the old man some privacy to collect himself or he might drop dead any second." Kaz could practically feel the identical smirks playing on their lips as Nina dragged Jesper away by his arm.

But none of it seemed to matter because as soon as he saw Inej, it felt like someone pumped a gallon of blood through his heart all at once. The voices around him were muffled, separated by an invisible wall, casting him in a shell of peaceful silence as he looked at the girl who raged a storm in his heart ever since she had entered his life.

There, amidst the cacophony of colours formed by the crowd, Inej looked like a diamond shimmering among shards of glasses in a kaleidoscope. Her hair was like waves of pure earth. Half of it was braided over her head like a crown, the rest openly flowed down her back, softly reflecting the light from the chandelier above. His fingers itched to touch them.

She wore a long skirt which was a red as deep as the most luscious wines found only in the highest scale shops of the Lid. It pleated in a million different folds sure to hold a dozen knives, and fell from her waist in a cascading waterfall that brushed her ankles. The pleats danced along her legs as she waded through the sea of guests, occasionally nodding at those she recognised. It appeared as if she hadn’t yet noticed him standing at the border of the hall.

His heart screamed at him to call her name, to make her look at him, but walking under the glittering lights, it looked as if she had just stepped out of a children's storybook about Saints. Regardless of how ridiculous it sounded, he felt that she would disappear if he got close enough. Her eyes were set on her destination— Jesper, Nina and Wylan standing near a table piled with a variety of delicacies. A soft smile played on her lips as she looked at Jesper arguing with Nina about what was better— waffles or the sweets layed out in front of them.

Kaz wanted nothing more than to shield her from the rest of the world and reserve that smile solely for himself.

Stupid Jesper. Stupid Nina. “Let’s give him some privacy.” What was the point of leaving him alone when Inej didn’t even spare him a single glance?

A part of him wanted to march right up to their little group and place himself in the middle, but his stubborn mind willed him to stay put. He watched as they exchanged hugs and smiled at each other. He watched as Inej asked Jesper something and he spinned around to point right at Kaz’s face. He averted his eyes right in time and hurled curses at Jesper under his breath.

Every passing second seemed to escalate his heartbeat, as if both were trying to outdo each other. His heart hammered against it’s cage, threatening to break free from the restraints and bounce off onto the floor. Kaz could sense Inej’s firm gaze on him as the distance between them shortened with every step she took.

"Hello, Kaz."

Inej had come to stand right in the line of his sight so that he had nowhere else to look apart from her. And saints did he want to keep looking at her.

Kaz let his eyes take in every detail of her face. Her bronze skin had become an even deeper shade after all the time spent at the sea and he wanted nothing more than to cup her face in his hands, caress her cheeks and make sure she was real. Her eyes were lined with kohl and some kind of golden powder covered her lids.

In those brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, the laughter of childhood memories, the pride for what she had accomplished in the last few months alone, and there was affection. The way she looked at him made him feel like a broken vase being mended by that gaze alone.

He knew he was supposed to say something to her. Tell her that she looked beautiful. That ever since she had stepped foot in this room—in his life— he had hardly been able to breathe. That if she had willed it, Kaz would have gladly gotten down on his knees and swore his devotion to the saints she now looked so alike. But his mouth and mind never seemed to coordinate.

"Didn't expect I'd see you here." A lie. The only reason Kaz had even considered being a part of the celebration was that he knew Inej was staying in Os Alta to spend some quality time with Nina and Matthias.

From the smile on her face, Kaz suspected she knew he was lying but to his immense relief, she decided to change the subject.

"The aarti is about to begin, let's go." She nodded towards the huge double doors opening into the sweeping grounds and the groups of people leaving through them.

"To my best knowledge, there isn't a temple in or around the Little Palace."

"There wasn't. King Nikolai got one built after Zoya insisted." Inej adjusted the golden dupatta pinned to the shoulder of her blouse so that it covered her palm. With her hand safely enveloped, she grabbed hold of Kaz's wrist and started heading towards where the temple was situated.

The warmth emanating from her palm seeped through the thin fabric and sent shivers up his arm. The water was at bay and the ringing in his ears did not echo as usual. He could do this.

They walked through the doors and out into the open air. Kaz took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. A few paces ahead, the rest of the crows were chattering amongst themselves. Jesper's arms were flailing around as he babbled on about something. Beside him, Wylan was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation and trying not to get hit. Nina and Matthias walked arm in arm, the latter jerking his head in every direction, trying to catch a glimpse of all the decor layed out all around. Every few seconds he would point at something and whisper to Nina who would launch into an explanation of whatever he had asked.

"How is Matthias adjusting to all of this?" Kaz shifted his gaze back to the path he was walking on. Inej's hand felt heavy around his wrist, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted her to let go or hold on tighter.

"Not as bad as you'd think. He kind of isolated himself during the first week and avoided all the grishas, except Nina, of course. But it didn't take him long in warming up to Tolya." Inej explained. "However, he still refuses to be in the same room as Zoya, says it'll take him longer to get used to her."

"I can agree on that," Kaz muttered bitterly under his breath. His mind reeled back to the time when he had to work alongside her in order to help Alina destroy the fold.

Inej snorted on hearing his grumbling. "She's not that bad! Once you gain her trust she can be charming."

"I have no intentions of finding that out."

••••••

The temple was built amid the towering trees past the lake, it's white marble glowing amber due to the countless diyas lit all around it. It sprawled among the woods in its beauty, as if the gods themselves had decided to take a day off and stroll among their mortal devotees.

Walking up the steps to the main praying area was almost peaceful and Kaz was struck by the sudden realisation that he wouldn't mind spending an hour or two sitting right here in solitude.

A soft melody drifted from a group of musicians seated beside the huge altar where statues of gods carved out of marble stood. Bells crafted out of bronze hung from the ceiling and the entire interior was lit with hundreds of glowing candles and iron lanterns. Garlands of marigold wreathed around the circular pillars. A priest took his spot at the front of the room as people piled inside.

As the aarti began, Kaz's attention shifted to the girl beside him. Inej had let go of his hand now, her own raised in front of her chest as she joined her plams together to pray. His wrist felt cold without her warmth and he wanted nothing more than to slide closer to her.

His attention was snatched away from her by the beginning of the aarti, but he did not intend to pay any attention to it, not with Inej standing with him. Not with her being the only person he felt like worshipping.

But Inej seemed to have an objection to his plans because she reached out to lift his hands up and join his palms together.

"I know this is the last place you'd like to be in, but it won't take long, I promise."

And how could he resist when she smiled at him like that? Like his mere presence at this occasion was the only source of her joy. So his own beliefs be damned. He would stand here with his hands joined, listening to the priest begin the aarti. He would stand here until his legs started shaking, until he couldn't bear to be upright anymore, as long as it made Inej happy.

Soon, the prayer came to a close and Inej whispered to him, "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Wh—"

"Just do it."

He couldn't understand how his wishes would come true simply by closing his eyes and muttering what he wanted in his mind. That was not how things worked. But he did what was asked of him regardless of how ridiculous he found it.

Sounds of explosion began ringing from outside and Kaz froze in his spot, his mind automatically shifting into defence. He felt a hand grabbing hold of his arm.

"Relax, it's just the fireworks." Kaz opened his eyes only to find Inej looking at him in amusement, her eyes glinting with delight. With her hand still resting on his, she dragged him outside, her steps hurried and excited.

The sky was littered with colourful specks of gold and green and blue and colors he couldn't be bothered to name. Everyone gathered in the grounds, their heads tilted upwards as something rocketed towards the heavens, soon bursting into a myriad of sparks, casting tiny star-like dots in the open.

Once again, his eyes found her. Kaz's heart skipped a beat as he looked at Inej, her eyes reflecting the stars above. Strands of hair had gotten lose from the crown atop her head and were now swaying with the breeze. He reached out to tuck them behind her ear, his movements catching her attention.

They were close enough that he could see the deep brown of her eyes along with the twinkle of the fireworks reflecting in those orbs. Close enough to see the mole on the right side of her upper lip. Close enough to feel her breath on his face.

"Back in the temple, what did you wish for?" Inej asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twisted up to form a teasing smile. "To bury under a pile of millions of kruge."

Another lie, of course.

What he had wished was for Jesper to find a solution to his gambling addiction and learn to accept his grisha powers. For Wylan to restore his relationship with his mother and build a bright future for himself. For Nina to find peace with her new abilities, because he knew she was struggling. For Matthias to find a way to forgive himself for the actions of his past. For him to build a new life with Nina.

But most of all, he wished for Inej to make a place for herself in the world. For her to live a life where she didn't have to worry about the likes of Tante Heleen anymore. And for him to be worthy enough to be a part of that life.

Kaz was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not see Inej raising her dupatta and covering the lower half of his face. He didn't realise he had zoned out until he felt the warm press of her lips against his cheek. His mind became void of thoughts as he felt his stomach somersault in response. The water was still at bay and whispers of Jordie in his head were silenced.

He pressed his forehead to hers as they stood under the glittering night sky. They were enveloped in each other's presence, the rest of the world frozen in time as Inej tethered Kaz to reality.

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need-more-meta · 4 years

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Natashlia Romanoffva: What's In a Name

Like any professional spy, our beloved Black Widow has many faces (and haircuts). She also seems to have a lot of names. Ever wondered what’s the deal with that? Let your humble Russian speaker explain.

To start with, let’s go over the authentic Russian variants of the Widow’s first name. I’ll mark the stressed vowels in bold.

Natalia (Наталья) — the full formal form of the name.*

*Actually, there are two forms possible: Nataliya (Наталия) [pronounced: na-ta-li-ya] and Natalia (Наталья) [pronounced na-ta-lya]. The former has a ye olden days flavor, and the latter is your ordinary everyday Natasha.

Which brings us to:

Natasha (Наташа) — the most common shortened form of the name. In fact, so common that it has branched out and become a stand-alone name in the Western countries.

Now, let the fun begin.

Nata (Ната) — a shortened form of the shortened form. Used fairly often, slightly more familiar than the full shortened form.

Natashen’ka (Наташенька) — much tender, very familiar. Be careful with this one: it can sound condescending (if used by an old white guy, for example). Between close friends, though, it expresses some industrial-grade affection.

Natashechka (Наташечка) — almost like Natashen’ka, but with a dash of irony.

Natusya (Натуся) — no one but your parents (or grandparents) can call you that. In fact, no one should be calling you that, not even your parents (maaaaaybe grandparents). Trust me, if anyone calls our Nat this, they won’t stay alive for long.

This form can also, in families particularly fond of babytalk, devolve into the ultimate diminutive form Tusya (Туся), which will bring immediate violent death upon you.

Natalie (Натали) [pronounced na-ta-lee] — release les baguettes, someone’s going for French! Mostly used in a joking way.

Natakha (Натаха) — this is your Slav squat girl. She spits sunflower husks, gulps vodka like water, and will fuck you up with the neck of a broken glass bottle, which, by the way, is called rozochka [a little rose] in Russian and I think it’s beautiful.

As for the common English forms of the name:

Nat can be used in Russian as a vocative form of Nata, i.e., a shortened form of direct address, but not something you’d use when referring to a Natasha in third person.

Tasha is not something Russian speakers use to shorten Natasha, unless they want to be very extra.

Now let’s move on to Nat’s last name.

Here’s the thing about Russian surnames: they don’t actually end in -off in Russian. Here’s another thing about Russian surnames: they’re gendered, and most will have different male and female forms.

So, -ov is one of the most common suffixes for a Russian male surname. But, since Russian phonetics insist that the hard consonants at the end of the word are softened, it’s pronounced more like -of. Which led the West to transcribe the ending as -off.

Now, the female version of this suffix is -ova. No consonant softening here.

Thus, if Nat was born and raised in Russia by Russians, her surname should be Romanova (which is a pretty common Russian surname, which literally means “of someone named Roman”), a female version of the male surname Romanov. On the other hand, she could have changed her surname to Romanoff, which is a legitimate westernization of Romanov, when choosing to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. and cutting off her ties with Mother Russia (I’d do that, if I were her).

You think we’re done? Surprise surprise: Russian people have ONE MORE NAME to consider.

This third name is called a patronymic, and Nat’s patronymic MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. And no, it’s not exactly a middle name.

A patronymic is a common thing in all Slavic cultures and is formed based on the following pattern: the kid’s father’s name + gendered ending. Think Icelandic -son and -dóttir. Or something along the lines of the The Handmaid’s Tale naming system if you want to go all morbid.

A quick note on usage: in the Russian-speaking cultures, first name + patronymic is used as a formal form of address. This is what you’d call your teacher, your boss, your doctor, a character from Tolstoy’s novel, or maybe even a friend if you’re making a thing of being extra respectful (or just extra). Basically, you’d want to use this combo in the same situations where you’d use Mister/Miss Last Name in English.

Now, in Captain America: The Winter Soldier the shady Hydra doctor Arnim Zola calls Nat “Natalia Alianovna”. Seeing that -ovna is a female gendered ending, it would make Nat’s father’s name Alian, which is not a Russian name I have ever encountered. I mean, it probably exists, but it’s definitely not a common one.

But wait a minute. As much as we’d all like to pretend that The Avengers: Endgame never happened, there was that moment when Red Skull addressed Nat as “daughter of Ivan”. Trust me, Ivan is not and cannot be a form of Alian, so in this version Nat’s patronymic should be Ivanovna. (Also, the proper stress is Ivan.)

Dear Marvel, what the hell?

There’s a theory that Nat may have a biological father and a foster dad, which might explain why Dr. Zola and Red Skull have different information. And after all, if Bucky Barnes can have three different birth dates in the MCU, why can’t Nat have two different daddies?

#mcu meta #natasha romanoff #black widow #nat feels #how to russian #meta metas

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touchstarvedsam · 3 years

Note

I was really gonna ignore that "superior"natural thing but I saw that they seem to have some talented artists. So I thought maybe they are doing something interesting (even if it's destiel) so I checked out their Google doc and omg I'm HOWLING! Eileen calls Sam moosie, Cas calls Dean squirrel. Dean calls Cas kitten, Sam calls Eileen otter. They say it's just a incollection of ideas that might not make it into the project, but you get a sense of what you're dealing with there. And this is from1/?

A brief perusal to see how much attention Sam gets compared to Dean & Cas (a word search gave 27/87/100 results for each respectively, so not too much attention to Sam. But sure, Sam is the favorite character of some of their writers). I'm sure a deeper reading will unearth more (like, Dean saying you are home to Cas, who says we're not at the bunker, Dean replies but you are home. That sounds like something Dean would say. And Dean wishes a tulpa into existence 'cause he misses Cas too much)2/?

They say they want to eliminate plot holes but it seems what's a plot hole depends on whether it serves their ship: purgatory stays (we know they love that arc) even if it makes no sense for Crowley and Cas to go through that much in S6 when apparently there are many ways in and out. Cas, the guy who failed at almost everything he's done, is a "master strategist". Every other retcon of later seasons stays as long as it serves ship purposes. Sam gets his fair share of attention but Dean is the3/?

One who teaches Cas about being human including the textures of food (Sam and Cas pbj moment erasure) and Cas should be the one to teach Jack about his powers (no mention of Sam and Jack's relationship). Other ooc things: Cas rides a bike and when Dean asks says it reminds him of flying. After Cain, Dean takes Cas to the farm for bees (?). Cas and Dean snuggle. Knowing Cas is alive gives demon Dean strength to fight to be cured? Dean speaks enochian to Cas. Cas making a mixtape for Dean. 4/?

Cas being in regarding Dean. "Baby jack walking around in cas’s trench coat going “I’m an angel”." Home alone type ep with Jack. Dean kissing cas's forehead when he's dead in 13.01. Crowley is Jack's godfather and gets him a hellhound pet. Sam has a pet fish? Dean sings you're my sunshine to Cas as he sleeps. "Uncle Gabe". Apparently John dropped Sam and Dean off at Bobby's all the time? I don't think this is canon? Keep 15.18 but change 19&20 (of course). There's no drama or angst like 5/?

Kevin's death or Crowley's death or anything that might add tension to the story. Unless of course it serves the ship so plenty of trauma for Cas including darkness (from the empty) and sharp objects (from Naomi). A small mention of Sam's trauma with Lucifer, thank God, but it's interesting that they have so little Sam. They can say they'll flesh out more arcs for Sam but it's clear he's not a priority from how he's not present where he should be. For example, Dean will explain everything 6/?

To Mary and break her out of her brainwashing. But where's Sam? She's his mother too. Other than Eileen Sam's most meaningful relationship seems to be with his pet fish (still confused about that). Even if this project gets better in the future, which I doubt, it's clear what the direction here is. It baffles me that they think this is superior to the show we have, as problematic as the show is. I wish them best of luck but I don't have any high hopes for this. Thanks for the laughs though. 7/7

Sorry for that long ass rant in your inbox. It's in the middle of the night but I'm cackling after reading their doc and I had to share it with someone. I thought you might find it amusing as well. Hopefully all my asks go through. On the one hand, I feel bad hating on a fan project. But the way they've positioned it ("superior"), the blatant disrespect to Sam, and all the shit their side has pulled since the finale (and long before that) has really irked me. Again, sorry.

I just- this whole thing was a whirlwind of nonsense, it took me a whole week to process it. I don’t even know where to start here, or if I want to just yeet my laptop out my bedroom window into the snow. They really consider their ideas superior to the original show? More like Inferiornatural, to be honest. Superinferiornatural? They can’t even seem to characterize them correctly, let alone come up with a decent plotline or idea.

So we’ll start with the nicknames, since that is where you started. The whole thing is painfully out of character, but the worst (and funniest) of them all is Dean calling Cas “kitten,” I might actually laugh myself into an early grave with that one. Dean gives nicknames to shorten people’s names (besides Sam; Sammy is the only person who gets an extended nickname). He’s not going to give someone a longer nickname than the original nickname he uses for them! And Cas wouldn’t actually give nicknames, especially not giving Dean the nickname Crowley gave him??? Otter?! Moosie?! W H A T. Can we move on from grade school kiddie crush nicknames?

I’m currently manifesting Dean saying “kitten” in his gruff voice with that lip curl he does sometimes and I’m cracking up about it. Thanks for the amusement, heIIers.

Of course Sam would only be mentioned 27 times to Cas’ 100 because Sam means nothing to them. He’s only ever either been in their way or a cheerleader for that horribly characterized ship of theirs. I just love how, in order to make DestieI, they have to butcher the characters so irreparably that they’re unrecognizable. Good for them, they can’t even have fanfiction of their ship where the characters keep their canon personalities. 10/10 would laugh at again.

I love the Sam erasure. It’s true to the heIIers’ character at least. They’re a one-trick pony. I’m so used to it by now that I’m totally desensitized to their bullshit. But Dean speaking Enochian? What? When and how did he learn that? I can’t see Dean in his 30s sitting there willingly to learn the language of the angels. Not even if his “kitten” is the one to teach him. Dean doesn’t give a fuck about that. If any of them is going to learn Enochian, it’ll be Sam, and they can fight me on that. I will kick anyone’s ass that argues.

I hope the mixtape Cas makes for Dean is just 4 hours of that Spaghetti song by The Wiggles because Cas sucks at doing human things.

I’d love to see the Sam erasure in the Regarding Dean one. Just swap Sam out for Cas? So Cas is the only one Dean recognizes? Hmm. Where would Sam go? A smoothie place? Yeah, as if Dean would remember the angel who he’d barely known for 8 years at that time over Sam who he’d known since he was 4 years old, lol. Sure, Jan.

The entire 5th ask is WILD, nonnie. A pet fish? Dean singing you are my sunshine? Dean kissing Cas’ forehead? LMFAO. Crowley is Jack’s godfather. The KING OF HELL is Jack’s GODfather. I’m- hgfjdksl I’m sure Dean who was ripped apart by hellhounds would love for Jack to have a pet hellhound. Yeah. Absolutely. “Uncle Gabe” yeah, fuck that guy in particular. Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t erased Eileen to make SabrieI endgame in their fic. SabrieI is the Sam version of DestieI. It’s just as nasty and abusive :) which was why the heIIers ship it. They’re into abuse. It’s their shtick.

I do wonder what the point of the fish is... Sam has always loved and wanted a dog... you’d think they’d give Sam a dog... but I forgot they don’t pay attention to the show unless the episode has Mushy in the credits. I literally saw a heIIer say they skipped episodes if Mushy wasn’t in the credits... so they don’t know how to characterize Sam or Dean, but from this message they don’t even know how to characterize Cas who seems to be their precious uwu baby angel so I’m not surprised. I can’t wait for them to start releasing this shitshow. It makes for good fodder to make fun of them all over again. They really watched a grand total of 146 out of 327 episodes and thought, “Yeah, my opinion about the show definitely matters,” and I think that’s fucking hilarious.

Sorry for taking so long to respond! Hope I did a good job, nonnie. <3

#anti destihellers #anti destiel #hellers really can't characterize worth shit huh #this is honestly sad and pathetic #hellers are good for nothing if not for laughs #long post #sorry guys #anon #kiri answers asks

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sepublic · 3 years

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Who sold the Curse to Lilith?

A while back, @loosescrewslefty pointed out to me that Tibbles’ shop, which he specifically cited as having been passed down through generations, is named Mud and Sundry. Mud and Sundry was located in the Night Market… Lilith bought her curse from the Night Market… Tibbles sells an elixir that cures said curse at exorbitant prices, and he is a remorseless, opportunistic capitalist. We’ve all wondered why it was called a Curse of Feathers and MUD… And the stand is called MUD and Sundry. You do the math.

Though, if this theory is correct, then it’s worth noting that it was probably Tibbles II who sold a young Lilith that curse- We know Tibbles III is a Witch, and according to Dana, witches have about the same lifespans as humans. I’m not entirely sure Tibbles III’s age, but he doesn’t seem to be that old- At least, he was probably a child when Lilith was. So it’s more than likely that his father was in charge of Mud and Sundry, and thus sold the curse to Lilith in this theory.

So, we’ve got the scummy family of capitalist pigs, who literally create the conditions that others need a cure for- But said cure isn’t permanent and has to be constantly bought across one’s entire life, because the curse itself is permanent. I’m not saying Tibbles could potentially become the most reviled character in this entire show, even moreso than Adegast or Odalia and Alador for me… At least, I’m not saying this UNLESS the show confirms that it was his bloodline that caused this mess. And if so, then I hope that Tibbles straight-up died and was painfully devoured alive by his own animals, back when Eda dumped those crab apples on him.

Like, let’s be real here- Lilith is definitely terrible for what she did back as a kid, BUT! The important thing to remember is that Lilith legitimately thought the curse would last for a day, and only hinder Eda’s magic; She couldn’t have ever imagined the curse lasting for the rest of Eda’s life, which it would also shorten… Nor could Lilith have anticipated the curse turning Eda into a beast as well. Lilith was willing to curse her sister for a day- NOT for the rest of her life, nor was Lilith willing to shorten that life either. The side-effects of that curse were out of her hand, but keep in mind that Lilith had a VERY different intent…

What I’m saying is- Screw the dude who sold a child a curse. Screw the dude who willingly, knowingly sold this kid a curse, knowing exactly the kind of damage it’d cause- And screw them for not even having the decency to be upfront and honest about the severity of this curse, especially when you know this kid is going to be using it on someone. ESPECIALLY if the kid thinks it’ll last for a day, VS someone’s entire existence… If you’re going to sell a kid something that can and WILL permanently ruin a person’s life, at least be honest about it! I’m gonna be honest, I’m way angrier at whoever sold Lilith the curse, because this is something they did for a living, and something they chose to do; And I have no sympathy for them even if they were dirt-poor, because…

Curses explicitly hurt and ruin people’s lives. That’s literally their only, primary function. Lilith can at least reassure herself because it’s supposed to be temporary, and she’s only doing it once, and by herself. Whoever sold her the curse was a bastard who enabled this for other people, who no doubt caused a lot of people pain for money- And they enabled others to do the same, horrible things. And, if they couldn’t even be accurate about the severity of their curses, then this seller likely got a lot of people to cross lines they never would’ve otherwise- You know, like Lilith herself. They sold permanent curses, stuff that can’t be taken back for people who justifiably underestimated their severity, stuff that forces you to basically sell your soul to afford elixirs and treatment. This seller legit ruined Lilith and Eda’s lives, and shortened Eda’s especially, and I just…

LOOK. I really hope that after that incident… I really hope that Lilith tracked down that seller. And confronted them over their dishonesty, and how it ruined Eda’s life. Considering she tried so hard to cure Eda, you know she would’ve at least tried. And as a member of the Emperor’s Coven… Really, who’s to say Lilith didn’t take her revenge? The Night Market is a hive for illegal activity- She’s fully in her authority to arrest someone, not that an enforcer of a dictatorship needs much justification anyway. And, I’d like to imagine that Lilith got her revenge, for her AND Eda’s sake… Maybe she pulled strings to get the seller petrified. Maybe she offered them to Emperor Belos himself, as a sacrifice and a source of magic bile to drain, if the seller had any…

Because screw that person. Seriously. I’m already incensed at them as-is for the nature of their profession and their willingness to sell to children, but now it’s personal because we see firsthand, intimately, how much a curse can screw people over- Not just the victim, but even the caster, who can get tricked into the guilt of crossing a line they never would’ve! And if it was Tibbles II who sold Lilith the curse, and if Lilith DID get revenge by having him killed or imprisoned for the rest of his life, sentenced to a fate worse than death ideally… I have to wonder how this would shape Tibbles III’s feelings about the Emperor’s Coven, and about the Clawthornes.

Does he recognize Eda as the sister of his father’s killer, low-key the cause of his father’s death? Does he resent Eda for this, is there another level to his conflict with Eda? He never brings it up, that’s worth mentioning… Though it’s possible Lilith came in and took out his father, before a younger Tibbles even realized who the culprit was. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lilith would’ve done this early into her career in the Emperor’s Coven, which likely meant that she’d be wearing the standard uniform and thus be unrecognizable.

Would Tibbles know that it was the Emperor’s Coven who had a hand in this? Does he have feelings about giving them what they want- Or does he just not care, because profit is all that matters in the end? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was so utterly remorseless that he didn’t even bat an eye at his father’s death because it just meant getting inheritance. That in the end it’s all just business, and it’s his father’s fault for being so traceable and thus opening himself to a customer’s revenge. Then again, Tibbles DOES emphasize how Mud and Sundry was passed down through the generations, which implies some value of his familial connections and pride towards them. Who can say, besides Dana herself of course…

All I’m saying is- I’m in the mood for bacon, all of a sudden. And if the seller IS still out and about, I really want a bonding episode between Eda and Lilith as they utterly eviscerate them. Maybe give them a taste of their own medicine… Or shall I say, curse? Really BOTH, if Tibbles II sold curses with the intent to make people reliant on the elixirs he brewed.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #the owl house eda #edalyn clawthorne #the owl house tibbles #speculation #theory

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krisdreaming · 3 years

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PART 2 | A PLAN

｢ Masterlist ｣ | Next >

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Summary: Somehow, you ended up agreeing to bring your non-existent boyfriend to the family Christmas gathering at your grandparents’. Your chem lab partner and fast friend, Kuroo Tetsurou, agrees to play the part. Your developing feelings for him won’t cause any problems, right?

WC: 1.7k

A/N: As you’ll (maybe) notice there are a few small tidbits I lifted from the original fic, but this is very different from it in a lot of ways! I hope it isn’t seeming too repetitive for those of you who have read the first one. Also, I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I promise it’ll really get going in the next part.

You plan to meet Kuroo at the coffee shop again a week later. This time, you beat him there, which gives you the perfect opportunity to gather your thoughts. As you wait in line to order, you remind yourself for the hundredth time that this is really happening. Kuroo Tetsurou with his messy hair and his teasing jabs and that stupid smile has agreed to spend three whole days pretending to be your boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily, before your mind can concoct an answer, your turn to order comes up. Remembering last week, you order a cup of black coffee in addition to your usual macchiato. It’s a french roast, described as “dark and bold” on the menu. For the guy who reminds you daily that adding anything to coffee is only for the weak, it seems fitting. The comment is always paired with a teasing wink that shoots right to your middle, but that’s definitely not what you need to focus on as you carefully carry the two mugs to a table by the window.

You get situated and you’ve just taken your first sip when Kuroo plops down across from you. “Hey.”

“Hey! Here,” You push the mug in his direction.

“Oh,” He peers into the mug and gives a small, approving nod, “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s for last week,” You say with a wave of your hand, watching as he lifts it to his lips and takes the first sip. When he sets it back down, he holds the mug in front of himself with both hands.

“You were right,” He says suddenly, “This coffee shop is better than the one on campus.”

“Oh really?” You grin smugly.

“Don’t look too proud of yourself,” He laughs, lifting his mug and taking another sip, “You’re the one who has to hire a fake boyfriend.”

“I didn’t hire you,” You snap back quickly, “And it was your idea, if you’ll recall.” You sigh, propping your chin on your hand. Judging by the expression on his face, he’s already enjoying this far too much.

“Details, details,” He waves his hand. “Doesn’t matter. I am curious, though. Why exactly did you tell your family you have a boyfriend when you don’t?” The question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but you still feel your cheeks begin to burn. You glance down into your own mug so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“It just gets old, you know?” You mumble to your coffee. “Having everyone ask about it at every family gathering. It seemed so easy to just make up a tiny story. It wasn’t supposed to get this big,” You laugh weakly. “I know it was stupid to lie. I guess I just didn’t want them to be disappointed in me.”

“I get that,” He says softly. “But hey, what do you need me to do?”

You shrug. You haven’t thought about that end of things as much as you probably should have. “Just... be my boyfriend. Charm their socks off. I know you’ve got it in you.” You chuckle. “It’ll be nice to have someone there,” You add after a beat.

“Yeah?” He says, leaning in a little closer. You’re a bit surprised by how much he genuinely seems to care. Half of you had expected him to treat this whole thing like it’s a big, elaborate joke.

“A lot of my cousins have significant others already. Maybe that’s why I felt like I had to make one up. Sometimes I just feel like the odd one out. Don’t get me wrong, I love them,” You add quickly, “But it’s just…”

“I get it,” He saves you from your floundering. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. And as an honorary grandson, tell your grandma she can feed me as much as she likes.”

You stifle your laughter behind your fingers. “You think it’s a joke, but she might just take that as a personal challenge,” You shake your head, already feeling a little bit lighter. “Anyway, we need details, don’t we? About our ‘relationship’?” You lift your hands to make exaggerated air quotes.

“Probably a good idea,” He nods, “How awkward would it be if our stories didn’t match?”

“I’d rather not think about it.” You squeeze your fingers tighter around your mug. “So we started dating a few weeks into the school year, I guess?”

“Sure, makes sense,” He props his chin on his fist, his lips curling into a half smile as a teasing tone cuts into his voice, “And was it love at first sight?”

You think back to that first day of class. You’d been running late because you were having trouble finding the room. You’d slid into one of the few open seats left, next to that ridiculous head of hair, and you’d glanced at him in a silent apology as he flashed you a quick smile. Love? Probably not, but you can’t forget the slight leap you’d felt in your middle and chalked up to nerves.

“Why not?” You say lightly instead, adopting his teasing tone. “And for our first date… we saw a movie, then came here for coffee after. That’s normal, right?”

“Sounds like it to me,” He shrugs. “And you can call me Tetsurou. I don’t mind. Or even Tetsu.”

You think about it for a moment, mentally testing the words on your tongue. His full name seems strange enough, never mind shortening it to a nickname. “Tetsurou,” You clear your throat, “Tetsurou is fine. Thanks. And you can call me Y/N.”

“Perfect. Y/N.” He says it experimentally, a strange small smile on his face. Something in the air between you feels just a little heavier, but you push forward before you can think about it too much.

“And I should warn you,” You run your fingertip absently around the edge of your mug, “My grandma is going to show you every single photo she’s ever taken of me. Last year, it took her almost an hour to get through them with my cousin’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, perfect, I was running out of things to make fun of you about,” He just barely dodges your hand as you reach across the table to swat him.

“And my family loves all kinds of games, so we’ll probably end up playing a lot of different ones,” You continue, choosing to ignore the playful jab. “So I hope that’s not too boring for you.”

“Are you kidding? Boring is sitting at home with my dad and eating the dinner he ordered from the store. Honestly? I’m looking forward to this. Christmas with your family sounds kind of like paradise.” He looks into his mug for a few moments before lifting it to his lips and draining the last swallows. “If you want the truth, I think you’re pretty lucky.” He finishes softly.

Your breath catches in your throat for a few moments. You forget, sometimes, that not everyone has a close, crazy, embarrassing family like yours. You open your mouth, but before you can come up with a response, his expressions shifts back to his easy smile as though he hadn’t said a word.

“We’re going to have a great time. I won’t let you down,” He lifts his hand, pinkie extended, and you don’t catch on right away. “Promise,” He prompts, sticking his hand out a little further. After a moment of hesitation, you reach out and link your pinkie with his. He grins.

“Thanks. Hopefully I don’t let me down,” You say with a chuckle, pulling away and lifting your mug to swallow the lukewarm dregs in the bottom. “I should be getting back,” You say as you set the mug back down, “I have a history exam before break starts, and I really need to study for it.”

“I should get back too, I have an assignment due tomorrow that I haven’t started yet,” He admits sheepishly.

“Tsk, tsk,” You tease as you push back your chair and stand, knowing full well that you’re the last person who can scold him for procrastinating. Judging by his incredulous expression, he’s fully aware of that fact. Side by side, the two of you step out into the early winter darkness.

“Really though, thanks for helping me out,” You say as you start making your way down the sidewalk, your words puffing steam into the air, “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He knocks his arm against yours. “To be honest, after all your talk about your grandma’s cooking, I might have tagged along even if I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend,” He laughs.

“You certainly won’t go hungry,” You agree, “She’ll make sure of that. Just don’t blame me if it affects your volleyball physique.”

“Don’t worry, I’m naturally slender,” He pats his middle, “I’ve got the quickest metabolism you’ve ever seen.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. “If you say so.”

The remainder of the walk back to campus is relatively silent, the two of you walking with your hands shoved down in your pockets against the cold. Occasionally, his arm brushes against yours. It’s nice in a way, just being next to him like this. You don’t feel any pressure to fill the silence with mindless chattering, and he obviously doesn’t either. You’re content to just walk together through the chilly night.

Winter break starts in less than a week, and you and Kuroo will be leaving for your grandparents’. In an odd way, you’re looking forward to this. Of course you always enjoy spending the holiday with your family, but knowing that Kuroo will be there too has you anticipating it just a little more than usual.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it takes a few moments to realize you’ve come to a stop in front of your dorm building. “Alright, guess I’ll see you in class Tuesday,” Kuroo says, lifting his hand in a wave.

“See you then,” You wave back, watching his retreating back for a few moments before turning to go inside. You close your hand into a light fist at your side, remembering the feel of his pinkie linked with yours. It isn’t until you’re back in your dorm that you realize that, despite the long walk in the chilly evening, you don’t feel cold at all.

#haikyuu #Haikyuu imagines #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #kuroo x reader #Haikyuu x reader #queued #hqd fluffmas

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dontjudgemeimawriter · 3 years

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Excerpt/Sketch Scene: Ardisci

I shared lines from this recently but in looking it over I remembered how much I love it so I decided to share. From Ardisci’s POV, Ardisci is the god of knowledge and is living sort of in-hiding on Earth.

---

Alright. So we’re here: Kaitlyn is lying on the couch, reading chapter 3 of her textbook on cultural anthropology. Netalia is lying on the floor, her book— a thick book with thin pages that’s a survey English literature— open above her. It’s open to Lines Written in Early Spring by William Wordsworth, but I’m not sure if she’s reading it— Buttercup, her golden retriever, is licking her face, and she’s laughing and pushing her away. I’m taking notes in my notebook. My reading, Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, is open as a pdf on my laptop, though that’s mostly for show, since Netalia is here. My notebook, which Kaitlyn insists is technically a journal (but it’s not my place to say it is or isn’t— language and labels aren’t my responsibility to determine), lies in front of me, and I’m scribbling in it with a recycled water bottle pen that I got at freshman orientation that Netalia always marvels that I haven’t lost and Kait and I then share a knowing look about. If Kait (and the collective’s) definition of “journal” is a place for writing out one’s own thoughts, rather than simply noting facts for studying purposes, then yes, it is a journal. I don’t have much need for notetaking— even without the constant stream of direct-and-all-encompassing knowledge, simple information—what’s part of the collective knowledge—is provided to me automatically. But that’s why I love philosophy classes. In the science class I took I did find it interesting what aspects they taught or what they knew, but still, so much of it was known information, simply a method by which to integrate that knowledge. It didn’t excite me the same way. But philosophy? No answer came to me automatically. I know how others have answered the question before, yes, but there’s no collective answer, and I can listen to classmate’s opinions and thoughts and I actually feel like I’m learning.

Focusing. I’m journaling on the allegory of the cave. I won’t be able to bring what I write up in class, but thoughts—my thoughts, my own!—are coming tumbling out. Because I know the outside world, the sun, all of it, I am the regular people in this metaphor when everyone around me are the prisoners who know only shadows and can but squint at the sun. Because not knowing and a limited perspective isn't something I was ever able to to really have. Because not that long ago I didn’t even have an “I” through which to narrate. Google doesn't have an “I” and never has a choice in knowing that these are shadows, not the extent of human existence, but maybe I could know only that. And who would feel jealousy of prisoners chained up in a cave with only a fire casting shadows to quantify as real— and since when has jealousy been a thing I feel?

Kaitlyn had been the one to suggest I write, to journal. She’d given me a look that she told me later was frustration (which I don’t feel bad about not recognizing— psychologically speaking, most people don’t recognize the facial expression “frustrated” as they do “happy” or “sad”—it’s not a basic emotion) and said in a very calm voice that as much as she loved listening to my rants, not everyone had the collective knowledge at their disposal—she actually had to study. And she later suggested writing out my thoughts, telling me that writing could be helpful in self-discovery, which got a green-light from the collective knowledge, so I agreed to try it.

Netalia pushes Buttercup’s nose away. “Buttercup, go-lie-down. I gotta read this.” Buttercup harumphs and trots over to me, pushing her nose into the space between my arm and my waist. That’s something I never got to appreciate—the simple joy of an animal burrowing into you. Of loving you. I suspect that’s something few gods get to experience—at least, outside of the Nature domain. And to have that physical form in which an animal can burrow into.

I can’t write with Buttercup there, so I finish the sentence, put my pen down, and turn to Buttercup, taking her face in my hands and scratching behind her ears. Buttercup starts panting, her tail wagging loud enough to slam against the carpet.

“Did the good doggie get snubbed?” I coo to Buttercup. It’s lucky humans developed a way to communicate thoughts, or I may never have had access to even the concept of thoughts and emotions, just behavior and knowledge of consciousness. At least a person can tell me what they’re thinking and feeling, even if it’s not always true— or all I’d have is what I can tell about animals, what their behaviors indicate.

“It was not a snub,” Netalia said. “I have to read this.”

I quiet, just smiling at Buttercup and scratching behind her ears. Kaitlyn’s looking at me. I know what face she’s making without looking up, but I look up anyway because sometimes using the human eyes helps me interpret it better. There’s a slight smile. I think it’s in reference to “Some of us need to actually read the assignment.” Just because that’s usually what Kaitlyn likes to tease me about.

Kaitlyn closes her textbook and sets it down on the table. “Talia, can we take Buttercup outside and play with her a bit? I think Addie’s getting antsy.”

Addie’s not really my name—my god name is Ardisci, and before going into hiding, Kaitlyn called me Ardi, which I love—never had I been close enough with someone for them to need a shortened way to refer to me. It felt affectionate. But going into hiding I needed a name-name, something not quite my god name. Kaitlyn had actually said that Adelaide felt too close to Ardisci to her, but once I’d picked it it had felt comfortable and I couldn’t pick another one, so we went with it. Plus, “Addie” and “Ardi” sounded similar, which made the transition easier.

“Sure,” Netalia sits up, folding the book over her finger for a moment. “Her toys are in the basket next to the porch.” She stood and sat down on the couch Kait had been lying on.

I stood, giving Buttercup a tug towards the door. Buttercup lept, realizing what we were doing, and ran to the door, barking when it didn’t open for her.

“Hold on, girl.” Kaitlyn followed us over to the front entrance and grabbed her jacket off the hook, then handed me mine. Now out of earshot from Netalia, she said to me, “The rest of us need to actually read the assignment.”

“I know,” I said. My jacket was thick, zippered, and knit, with cables curling up the sleeves. I wanted to try knitting sometime, to see if it was as easy as the information of “how to purl” came into my mind. Kaitlyn had said she’d knit when she was younger, had described how she’d learned to spot the difference between a knit stitch and a purl stitch and how to make a cable or bauble. When I look at it I know, but I have a feeling that that knowledge is different from recognizing it.

Kaitlyn takes a moment to adjust the collar of my jacket, which wasn’t folded properly. “I know you know,” she smiles—me saying “I know” is ironic, she’s said, just as anyone saying “do you know?” is to me. But “know” doesn’t, in my case, always mean knowing, it means understanding, and that (I know) is a different thing.

Buttercup bolts out the door as soon as I turn the handle to leave—it’s into Netalia’s family’s backyard, where Buttercup has previously been allowed to roam freely, so I’m not concerned—and Kaitlyn shouts to Netalia’s mom that we’re taking Buttercup out. Her mom, Lynette, tells us alright, and that she’s heating up some hot apple cider for us. Lynette was horrified my first year living as a human that I’d never had hot apple cider, and had filled me up on it ever since. I’d told Kaitlyn how I knew what apple was used, the origins of the drink, different versions, what was considered the best mixture.

“Alright,” Kaitlyn had said. “But the drink you’re drinking right now. Do you like it?”

I’d been confused at first. I’d taken another sip— not really familiar with the concept of myself liking things. I knew it was generally accepted as good, but then I really absorbed the flavor, the heat, the spice, the sweetness. “Yes,” I’d said finally. “I like it.”

I bound outside, running to the basket under the porch and grabbing a frisbee. “Wanna catch?” I ask Buttercup. Buttercup jumps side to side, ready. I swing my arm, try to snap my wrist, and let go. Buttercup runs after it, but the frisbee curves, making about a 60° angle away from where I thought I’d aimed. I laugh, and Buttercup, who started running straight, looks around in confusion.

“I gotta get better at that!” I shout to Kait, and run over to where the frisbee landed. Running is nice, a feeling I’ve gotten used to. The exertion, adrenaline, my lungs pulling in air, my heart beating, lactic acid starting to flow through my muscles (which’ll make them sore later). One of the things I can’t know, I have to feel. I get to feel. I scoop up the frisbee and toss it again. This time Buttercup knows to watch it, and runs after the very curved path it follows. I run back over to Kait, meeting Buttercup halfway as she trots back with it. Kait takes the frisbee.

“Here,” she holds it out, but instead of letting me take it, guides my hand to hold it. She takes me through the motion of throwing it, of the flick of the wrist. “And here you let go. Eyes on your target.” she says.

I know how to on an instructional level, but when Kait releases my hand for me to try, this time I pay attention not to the collective knowledge, but her instruction. I follow through, and this time it goes straighter, only curving a bit at the end. Buttercup races after it, then picks it up from the ground.

“Better,” Kait observes. She’s staring at Buttercup at first, but her eyes don’t follow the return, so she seems to have spaced on the trees. “Russell never quite figured out how to throw one,” she said.

I take the frisbee from Buttercup, spinning it in my hand for a moment. I don't look at her, knowing she won’t notice me averting my eyes.

I still haven't told her. I should tell her. It’s my obligation really, to our friendship and to my role as god. But really, just because I am the god of knowledge, did that mean I have to tell her? I’m trying to escape that role.

She’ll find out eventually. And maybe I can say I just hadn’t thought of it— I’d been shutting down the constant stream of information, and one person's death isn’t collective knowledge. If I hadn’t wondered, I still wouldn’t know, not actively.

But I do know actively. I’d checked in and realized. And decided not to tell her.

Her brother had died two years ago. That’s why he’d never found her, never shown up. I hadn’t known him, not really, but I knew him somewhat through Kait, though her memories and relationship.

Maybe it’s a bit selfish, too. I don’t know how she’d react, but I have a feeling (that was new too, having a feeling) that knowing might change things. It might lead her back to her family, and yes perhaps I can stay in hiding without her, but I don’t want to.

A part of me has always longed to do this. Live as a person, learn, experience. Not be the source of all knowledge for once. And part of why I finally had was the pressure had gotten worse—but really, a large part of it was meeting Kaitlyn. Kait, who never used me, who never asked questions I wouldn’t know if I wasn’t god of knowledge. Who actually got to know who I was, with enough patience to handle me. Who’d believed I even got the chance to be an I.

I throw the frisbee again. It arcs a bit, but Buttercup jumps up and catches it midair. “Whoo!” Kait cheers.

I bend down, clapping and then petting Buttercup. “Good job!” I tell her.

“Good job to you,” Kait says, tousling my hair the same way I’m tousling Buttercup’s ears. I grin.

#ardisci #second chance #crossed lines #Again need a series name #Been thinking about the overaching theme and like ik what it is I just don't know a way to cover it #I know I want an actual series name and not just 'Second Chance 2: Crossed Lines'#Because Second Chance is only significant in that it's where we start and the route in it's not inherently more important than the others #Like Chrys is hardly in the later books #/will be #Anyway. meet my favorite character wo write who probably will ever be a main #who*#Kait might. maybe #*gasp* just remembered picrews exist. Gotta make Ardi's human form

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Ress, Ress, wait,” Elide exclaimed, skittering to a stop as she tried to turn the corner. Her soft spoken bodyguard had been acting strangely ever since they had invited Fenrys to the palace.

He reluctantly stopped, not meeting her eyes. “Hey, Elide.” Ress slunk away when she tried to touch his shoulder and she dropped her hand, a little pathetically.

She tried to smile, tilting her head to the side, “I-I feel like no one’s seen you for ages, Ress. You know, if there’s ever something wrong, you can talk to me about it.”

“Not about this,” he whispered. Ress looked down the hall, looking for a way to leave.

Elide tried again, not ready to just let him leave, “Was it your boy?” She had a slight smile in her voice, trying to get a rise out of him or at least make him blush. His kind eyes hardened and she knew she had said the wrong thing. “Wait, Ress, please, I’m sorry- I-I didn’t mean to–”

“Elide.” He said, his voice hard, brooking no room for argument. “I don’t want to talk about this and definitely,” he huffed a icy laugh, “definitely not with you, so please. Leave me alone.” Ress brushed by her without another word, walking quickly down the hall.

Elide stood in shock, trying not to cry. After too long, she walked over to her old rooms, which they were fixing up for Fenrys. She nodded and tried to smile at the painters, whispering greetings to them.

She sidled up to Lysandra, who was directing movers. “Hey.”

Lysandra’s warm grin fell at Elide’s expression, “Hey, lovie. Wh-what’s wrong?” She ran a soothing hand down Elide’s back.

“I think something happened with Ress and his boy and he- I think it’s my fault but I don’t know why,” Elide said, trying to not cry by tilting her face upwards.

“How could it be your fault, El,” Lysandra asked, putting down her tablet. “He just wants a little space right now, I’m sure.”

Elide nodded, not believing her friend in the slightest, but hoping she was right all the same.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan’s phone rang and he didn’t bother looking at the caller before he picked it up, “Hello?”

“Lor, is that you, you fuckin’ bastard?”

A lazy grin pulled at his lips and he sat back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk, “Marama.”

Fenrys laughed brightly and Lorcan could almost see his friend’s shit-eating grin. “Heard you're trying to steal some poor girl’s throne, hmm? Seems fitting for Hellas’ spawn.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and you’re the poor guy they called to slap a ring on her pretty lil’ finger.”

“Ooh, she’s pretty?”

Elide Lochan was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, but Lorcan kept that to himself. “She’s… nice to look at.”

“Mmm, is that jealousy?”

Lorcan felt something grow in his chest and he swallowed, some of his joking swagger leaving him, “Have at her, Fen. She’s feisty. I think you’ll like her.”

Fenrys chuckled again, “Tell me again how many times she’s slapped you. It brings me such joy.”

“Sadist,” Lorcan grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “And twice. The first was an accident.”

“And the second?”

His cheeks burned and he was grateful he was in his rooms with no one around, “I… uh, I might’ve called her ‘sweetheart’ or something.”

“Hellas save you, man. You really are a fucking dumbass.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes again, “I realise that, Fen. When’s your plane getting in, anyway?”

The man on the end of the line hummed, “Mmm, in a couple days. Did you know I get a fancy room at the palace?”

“Yeah, well, me too,” Lorcan shot back, smiling smugly. “You aren’t that special.” Fenrys just huffed and something crossed Lorcan’s mind, “Hey, weren’t you talking to some guy? What, ah, what are you doing about that?”

“I ended it,” Fenrys said in a nonchalant voice. “He seemed fine with it, so no feelings were hurt, I guess.”

“And what about you? Are you fine with it?”

“Couldn’t be more fine with it.”

“Mmm, whatever you say, Fen.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide ran down the hall, trying to go as quickly as possible. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, trying not to tip over in her three-inch heels. She was running as fast as she could, but her strides were shortened by her tight, fitted houndstooth skirt and the matching coat she carried in her arms.

She attempted to slow down when she turned the corner into the foyer, but ended up sliding and windmilling her arms. Elide crashed into Rowan, groaning softly, “Shit, sorry, Ro.” She shrugged her coat on, flipping her hair out from under the collar. “How do I look?”

“Ravishing,” said a new voice, one she had never heard before. Elide spun, her eyes landing on a beautiful man. “If I may say so myself.”

“You must be Fenrys,” she replied, her cheeks burning. She surveyed him from head to toe. He had cut off his dreads, his hair now bleached blonde and shaved close to his skull. It was styled in a meticulous, 360° wave pattern, which no doubt took years of mastering.

Fenrys smiled, his cheek dimpling, and then he bowed, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Elide. I am humbled that you think someone like me could be your knight in shining armor.”

Elide liked him immediately and laughed, holding out her hand for him to shake, “I am forever in your debt, good sir.” His hand was large and warm, his grip not too tight and not too loose. Perfect. “How was your trip from Doranelle?”

“Oh, uneventful, I’d say. Lovely plane you’ve got,” he said, flashing her another grin. Fenrys’ dark eyes had a cheeky gleam in them that Elide instantly adored.

“Oh, that old thing?” she asked flippantly. “That’s just something we have lying around.” Fenrys laughed, the sound warm and booming as it echoed through the hall. Elide smiled, turning back to Aelin and Rowan, who were in the midst of exchanging a secret glance. “Your Majesties, Fenrys Marama.”

Fenrys bowed to Aelin, “My queen.” Aelin dipped her chin, sending a giddy grin to Elide. I like him, Elide mouthed as Fenrys and Rowan said their greetings.

Elide looked around for Ress, wondering if her bodyguard was feeling better. In his place, another guard stood, looking much more intimidating and imposing than Ress ever did. She turned to Lysandra, whispering softly, “Where’s Ress?”

“He’s taken some time off, not feeling well,” Lysandra murmured back. “Now, you and Fenrys are going to have a walk in the gardens. A photographer will be there, but just ignore them.”

Elide nodded, turning back to Fenrys. The man smiled again, offering Elide his arm. She slipped her hand into his elbow and he said, “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Three days later and Elide didn’t think she would ever tire of Fenrys’ company. He was hilarious and kind, his humour more bold and obvious than Elide’s, but they paired well together.

She had learned that his favourite colour was yellow, his birthday was exactly two months after hers - August twelfth - his favourite sport was soccer and he had gone to the University of Varese on a soccer scholarship. Though his degree was in political science, and he planned to become a lawyer, Fenrys had an aptitude for photography and carried his camera almost everywhere with him.

His older brother, Connall, was quieter than him, the dark side of the same coin. They had grown up in Doranelle their whole lives. Fenrys said he was grateful that he was the spare, because it gave him the freedom to explore the world as he had always itched to do.

“Ellie,” he called, beckoning her over to where he was bent over a flower bush.

Elide walked over to him, leaning down next to him, “What is it?”

“A butterfly,” he said, lifting his camera to snap a picture. It was as if the soft click of the frame had bothered the delicate creature and it took off, fluttering in the air to a new perch. Fenrys pouted, sad that his new friend left so soon.

Elide chuckled, “Don’t worry, sweetie-pie.” That was a new thing they had started the other day. Elide called him ‘sweetie-pie’ and in return, Fenrys had dubbed her ‘honeybunch’. It annoyed everyone around them, these overly affectionate names, and the pair thrived off everyone’s irritation.

Fenrys laughed softly and stood up, slinging his arm around her shoulders, “You hungry? I think it’s time for lunch.”

She smiled, wrapping her arm around his waist, “You always think it’s time for…” Elide trailed off as a certain someone walked into the garden, a book in his hands. Immediately, she scowled.

“Honeybunch, are you alright?”

Elide nodded, still frowning as Lorcan sat down on a bench and opened his book. He must’ve noticed her staring and looked up, flashing her a cocky grin that she wanted to slap off his perfect, beautiful face. “‘m fine,” she muttered, balling her free hand into a fist.

Fenrys looked up, following her eyeline to Lorcan, who he faked a confused frown at, deciding it would be best if Elide didn’t know their connection. “Who’s that?”

“Hellas incarnate,” she said, tugging Fenrys along to the castle. “He’s the other heir. I hate him.”

Fenrys nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, “Don’t worry, he won’t succeed. That’s why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, my knight in shining armor,” Elide said in a simpering tone, batting her eyelashes.

Her friend rolled his eyes, bumping her with his hip, “Shut up, stupid.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

My dearest honeybunch, snookums, Elide, Meet me in the garden, at dawn, should you dare Forever and truly, Your most beloved sweetie-pie

Elide snorted at the note in her hand once more, shaking her head as she walked down the stairs. The whole proposal was planned out and still, Fenrys had used every loophole that he could to make it feel like it wasn’t just a business deal.

She wore a pretty pink midi skirt and an oversized, cream-coloured sweater. On her feet she had on another pair of rounded-toe pumps, cream to match her top. Her hair was curled and loosely falling down her back, two sections pinned in the back to pull her hair away from her face.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she walked out into the garden, spotting Fenrys sitting beneath a lilac tree. He stood up when he saw her, smiling broadly, “Good morning, Elide.”

“Good morning, Fenrys,” she said, rolling her eyes when he took her hand and bent to kiss her knuckles. “Will you tell me why you’ve summoned me out here?”

“Let us sit,” he told her, motioning her to the stone bench he had been resting upon.

Elide sat, her hands folded in her lap. Fenrys joined her, his knee knocking into hers. She knew the paparazzi and the press were peeking through the garden fence and gate, their cameras flashing as they snapped a flurry of shots. “Over the past week,” Fenrys started, reaching over to hold her hands in his, “I have had the absolute pleasure of getting to know you and I have fallen desperately in love with your entire being.”

Elide bit her lip to stop from laughing, nodding serenely, “Of course.”

Fenrys’ eyes held a warning light, telling her if she laughed, he would laugh too. “And I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you so I ask thee,” he slid off the bench, smoothly pulling a velvet box from his pocket as he kneeled and flipped the lid open, “if you would do me the greatest honour in life and become my wife. Elide Amara Lochan, will you marry me?”

She lifted her hand to her throat, the tears in her eyes forming in an effort to keep from snorting and ruining it all, “Oh, sweetie-pie. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes!” Fenrys grinned wickedly and slid the ring onto her finger.

Elide flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Fen,” she whispered, eyeing the diamond ring on her finger.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her with him as he stood up.

For some reason, the sinking feeling in her gut didn’t dissipate and Elide had to hold back tears of grief.

Everything is fine, she told herself, you’re happy. The happiest you’ve ever been.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Lorcan drawled as Elide walked into the library.

She froze and turned, glaring at him. “Thank you,” she said tightly, her back straight. “I’m very happy with him.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” he replied, smirking at her before returning to his book. He could tell she hadn’t moved and looked up again, “Is there something I can help you with, sweetheart?” Her cheeks reddened as her eyes flashed dangerously.

Lorcan idly thought he should be scared of her, but he wasn’t in the slightest. He ran his eyes down her body, stifling the urge to reach out and wrap her up in his arms. She looked so soft in her black leggings and slouchy grey cashmere sweater that slipped down one arm.

“I am,” Elide insisted, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her stack of books. “I am very happy with Fenrys. We’re in love.”

Lorcan snorted, looking down at his book. He didn’t read a single word, “Don’t be dumb.”

“I am not dumb, Lorcan,” she hissed.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re dumb, I think you’re being dumb,” he said, flipping the page. “Because if you were being smart, you would know that you could never be happy with Fenrys and,” he lifted his eyes up to her angered gaze, her cheeks still pink, “he could never fall in love with someone like you.”

The angered light in her eyes guttered. It was replaced by crushing sorrow and she quickly looked away from him, “Well, you would know, wouldn’t you? I can’t ever imagine someone loving you.” Without another word, Elide turned away from him and walked deeper into the library.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Ready?”

Elide breathed out slowly, resting her hand on Fenrys’ forearm, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They walked to the formal dining room, their steps sure and measured. “You look rather dashing,” Elide said, appraising her fiancé in a fitted suit.

Fenrys flashed her a grin, taking her hand and twirling her under his arm. Elide laughed, but the unwarranted thought in her mind was that it felt nothing like when Lorcan had spun her around. “As do you,” Fenrys said, resting his hand on her lower back, her black dress offering an open back. The neckline was square with delicate straps, its skirt ending just beneath her knees with a back slit that allowed her to walk normally even with the snug fit.

Fenrys led her to the hall and Elide saw Ress standing with Lysandra at the door. He didn’t look pleased to be there, so she held herself back and simply nodded at him. He gave her a small smile and she tucked the little victory into her heart, not noticing how he glanced at Fenrys and immediately dropped his gaze.

She didn’t notice how Fenrys locked his jaw and stared straight ahead, tears burning in his eyes, either.

“Are we ready?” Lysandra asked, her eyes sparkling. Elide nodded, shooting her friend a grateful smile.

She and Fenrys waited outside the room as the majordomo announced from inside, “Presenting, her royal Grace, Lady Elide, and Lord Fenrys of Doranelle.”

The double doors were pulled open by two men. The couple smiled and waved politely as they walked to their seats. Aelin and Rowan were standing at the head of the table.

The queen stayed standing as the guests all sat, raising her glass of champagne to Elide and Fenrys, “Thank you all for joining us today as we celebrate the engagement of my dear cousin, Elide, and Fenrys. I could not be more happy for the two of you.” She lifted her glass as the others did and toasted, “To Elide and Fenrys!”

Elide lifted her glass, staring across the table at Lorcan as he mockingly tilted his head to the side and toasted them. “To the happy, happy couple,” he said, just loud enough for Elide to hear him.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide viciously cut a bite-sized piece of her veal, scowling the entire time at Lorcan, who just smiled back at her and chewed slowly on his own food.

She hoped that he choked.

He spoke quietly with his aunt, who looked like she wanted to throttle either Elide or Fenrys or maybe the both of them.

Elide smirked at the thought, smug knowing she had bested Maeve. Her uncle looked displeased as well as he pushed his food around his plate, glowering down at something and on occasion, up at Lorcan.

She watched as Vernon lifted his head to glare at her arch nemesis. Lorcan just sipped on his whiskey and regarded Vernon with a bored expression, his body language open and unimpressed. Glancing down his frame, Elide swallowed hard at the sight of his white dress shirt. Lorcan had forgone a tie, somehow managing to pull it off and not look out of place amidst Elide’s formally dressed guests. He wore a navy suit, the colour making an arresting match with his copper skintone.

The top buttons of his shirt were opened, the white material straining over his muscular chest. She caught a glimpse of black ink and a flush appeared on her chest as she imagined tracing her tongue over it.

Shaking her head, she looked up at Fenrys, smiling, “How are you?”

He lowered his head to her ear, “I’m doing quite well, Elide. And you?”

“I’m good,” Elide said, sighing in relief when servers cleared their plates for the next course. “Bit tired.”

He slid his hand between the back of the chair and her, easing the strain from her shoulders with a soothing touch. Elide sighed, easing into it by a bit. It still wasn’t as comfortable as she wished it was.

It was the touch of a friend, a confidant, but not one of a lover. Shame coursed through her as the memory of Lorcan’s hand on her back was the first thing she thought of.

Fenrys’ touch was nothing like that and she wished so badly that it was.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan watched Fenrys rub Elide’s back, watched how she let the royal, regal mask slip. A pang of jealousy echoed in his chest and he knocked back the rest of his whiskey, savouring the slight burn that accompanied the amber liquid.

Still, she didn’t relax completely. An image of her, something his mind made up, took up his brain. Elide, tired and exhausted, melting into his side. She smiled sleepily, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his chest. He dropped whatever he was doing and lifted her into his arms, gently carrying her to a bed - their bed.

The hissing voice of his aunt startled him out of his reverie. “What, Maeve,” he said, looking down at his plate to find that they had moved onto the last course of desert. Thank the Creator.

“Were you even listening to a thing I said,” she snapped, viciously deconstructing the delicate chocolate and espresso pot de crème.

“No.” Lorcan looked at Fenrys, who was shooting him a worried look as he glanced between Lorcan and Maeve and Elide’s horrid uncle. If Lorcan had to choose one man he hated with his entire soul, it was Vernon Lochan. He had heard the story of Elide’s injury and the moment he had met Vernon, he had had to refrain from inflicting the very same pain and abuse onto the weaselly regent. “What do you want?”

His aunt huffed, “We still have a chance at the throne, Lorcan.”

“Of course we do,” he said drily, watching Fenrys whisper something that had Elide covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed. Her eyes sparkled and her nose scrunched up and she looked so happy.

Lorcan hated Fenrys in that moment. He hated him so damn much.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Maeve had finally left. She had been telling him bullshit about how they could still win, Elide could still be ineligible.

Eventually, he had just told her he would talk to her another day and he was tired. Lorcan stood on the dining room balcony, staring out at the forest. He had a crystal glass of whiskey in his hands, the singular ice cube melting. Lorcan had been waiting too long to drink it.

The door opened behind him and he didn’t need to turn to know that it was Fenrys.

“Lorcan,” Fenrys said, his voice low.

He turned, offering a tight smile, “Congrats, Fen. I’m real happy for you guys.” Lorcan drank deeply from his glass, a slight buzz numbing him. “Real fuckin’ happy.”

Fenrys arched a brow, not believing him in the slightest. In his hands, he carried an unopened bottle of liquor, “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I think you’ll,” he coughed, his throat tight, “you’ll make her really happy, Fen.”

“Lor, don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I am not fucking lying to you, Fen,” he said, his voice raising. “I hope that you make Elide Lochan happy. I hope that she makes you happy because if she doesn’t, what the fuck is the point of any of this?” He waved his hand, “Yeah, and I know it’s my fault, it’s all I think about.”

Lorcan breathed in deeply, putting his glass down, “You told me you were in love, Fen. With that boy, you called me when you were blackout drunk and were crying over how much you loved him. How do you just… give that up for some girl you don’t know?”

Fenrys sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes, “The boy… he didn’t love me. Not yet, at least, and I couldn’t stand waiting around for it so… yeah. I gave whatever that was up for some girl I didn’t know. She needed help, don’t you get that?”

Lorcan just shook his head and pulled Fenrys into a tight hug. Better than most people, he thought to himself, not noticing dark eyes watching him through the opened door.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: ......i feel like that was a lot of stuff that happened. wow.

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @januarystears @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @magicalunicorngypsy @elriel4life @sensitiveillyrian

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter six #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #the fact that it's only gonna get messier from now on.......wow 😳 oopsie

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olliepig · 3 years

Text

Scott-land Yard

So, as everyone knows, it was our wonderful Scott’s birthday yesterday. In honour of that fact, the amazing @willow-salix and I got together and this was the outcome.

It’s also available on AO3 here.

******

“Smile!” Gordon chirped as he and Scott posed for the camera that had been thrust in their faces. John managed something that looked more like a trapped wind grimace and resisted the urge to hide behind Scott.

“I hate this,” John whined. He'd deny it, but it was definitely a whine.

“You hate everything,” Gordon shot back, pausing and shifting to a new pose after only three steps when another passer-by spotted them and requested a picture.

“I do not, I just hate going anywhere public because it’s always like this,” he lifted a hand to shield his eyes as another flash almost blinded him.

“We’re International Rescue,” Scott reminded him. “It’s part of the territory.”

“Yes, because that’s the only reason they’re popping up like meerkats to invade my personal bubble.”

“What else could it be?” Gordon asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” John replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “It’s definitely not got anything to do with the fact that we’re dressed like we just fell out of a Jane Austin novel.”

“I think we look good,” Gordon argued, tugging his jacket back into place and smoothing it down.

“We do, quite dashing,” Scott grinned, preening for another picture.

“I think we look like idiots.”

“This is going to be a fun night,” Gordon sighed as they reached the door of the pub appropriately named ‘The Moody Cow’.

“Happy birthday to me,” Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his protesting brother inside.

Looking around the inside did not instil John with more confidence.

“This has to be at least six health code violations.”

“Just six?” Scott quipped.

“I was talking about the front door.”

“Oh stop complaining so much,” Gordon chided him, taking in the sawdust floor and wobbly looking tables. “I think it’s charming.”

“Exactly,” Scott agreed, making a beeline for the bar and ordering three beers. “If this is what the girls have planned, then who are we to argue?”

“I don’t know what their plans are,” grumbled John, reluctantly following his brothers into the bar, “but based on this, I do know I don’t trust either of them.”

“You might have a point there,” Scott conceded, as he waited for their drinks. “We’ve all seen what happens when we leave those two unsupervised, and according to Cat they’ve been planning this for months.”

“We’re doomed,” John groaned, taking an experimental sip of the beer he’d just been passed. “There’s no hope for us.”

“What even is this?” Gordon asked, making a face as he sipped whatever pigs swill had been glassed up and handed over to them. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s traditional, I believe,” John said, taking another cautious swig of his own, unable to decide if he liked it or not.

“Well I like it,” Scott declared, taking a big gulp of his own drink and looking around for a table.

“What is this?” John asked the barman, who fished a bottle out from under the bar, showing him the label. It turned out to be from an historical brewery that specialised in archeological brewing, with recipes taken from old texts and replicated. John raised an eyebrow briefly in what might possibly, somewhere in the outer reaches of space, be considered as appreciation, not that he’d ever admit that, before handing back the bottle and taking his seat with his brothers.

“What time did the girls say they’d get here?” Gordon asked.

“About now I think,” Scott replied, looking at his watch before fixing his eyes on the door in the hope of seeing someone who wasn’t one of his brothers. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with them, but he had been promised a fun night out with some kind of activity that involved great secrecy and costumes, and he was very keen to find out what it was.

“They’re late,” John sniffed. “I’m not in the least surprised.”

“Since when has Selene been on time for anything?” Gordon laughed. “I’d have thought you’d have stopped complaining about it by now.”

“John? Not taking the opportunity to complain? Never!” Scott jested, giving John a friendly nudge.

John scowled in response. “I am perfectly aware of her way of doing things. I’ve learnt to accept it, but that does not mean I agree with it. Also, I do not complain, I state facts.”

“Can we leave him at home next time?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, please do,” John agreed, sounding far too eager.

“No, it’s my birthday and I want you here,” Scott declared. “Plus I’m not dealing with the girls on my own, this is supposed to be a celebration not torture.”

Before John could open his mouth to reply, their attention was grabbed by a door at the back of the room swinging open, revealing both Selene and Cat dressed as what could only be described as Victorian hookers.

“Oh god,” Scott choked as Cat sashayed towards him, swinging her hips as she went.

“I dread to think what this is about,” John sighed when his own woman reached his side, trying very hard not to lose an eyeball in her cleavage.

“Well hello there, birthday boy,” Cat breathed, sliding herself onto Scott’s lap with a wiggle that made him groan quietly as she slung an arm around his shoulder and placed a small kiss of his cheek.

“This is new,” John observed, skimming a fingertip down the laces of the corset he’d definitely not seen before. “I’d ask what the occasion was but you never need an excuse to go shopping.”

“I feel very left out,” Gordon bitched, his eyes still fixed on the door as if staring at it would reveal his date for the night.

“Is Penny not here yet?” Cat asked, looking up in shock as she finally tore her eyes away from Scott and realised that one member of their party was indeed missing. “I thought she’d have got here ages ago.”

Selene, who had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, now perched herself on John’s lap and lifted an arm to get the attention of the barman.

“You,” she called loudly in a demanding tone. “Da, you, you bring me vodka, big glass.”

“That’s new too,” Gordon laughed, hearing a very strange accent coming out of her previously quite common London mouth.

Selene took the glass with a nod of thanks and downed half its contents in one, slamming it down on the table, before spearing Cat with a warning look. “Nyet, remember what grandmudder say, they pay for grind or get nothing at all.”

“Da, but she also say need to show something to bring them in,” Cat retorted, her face reddening slightly as her awful attempt at a Russian accent grated in her ears.

“Minushka, she say, you show one apple, not whole basket of fruit,” Selene gave a little hip swivel that made John choke on his fancy beer in demonstration then got to her feet, avoiding his attempt to keep her on his lap and his dignity intact. “Like so.”

“And I’ve shown apple,” Cat replied, sliding herself up Scott as she stood, feeling his eyes tracking her every move. “Now he want whole basket.”

“Whole basket is extra,” Selene nodded. “We take to rooms now, da?”

“I can’t even pretend to know what’s going on here,” Scott cut in, clearing his throat and grabbing Cat by the waist, enjoying her shriek as he pulled her back down onto his lap. “But it’s my birthday and I’m very happy with having this ‘basket’ right here, thank you very much.”

He fixed Selene with a stare, daring her to deny him on his special night. Smiling in triumph as she huffed dramatically and looked away, allowing it for now, it was his birthday after all. Risking her wrath further, he placed a quick kiss on Cat's neck before continuing. “Anyway, shouldn’t we wait for Penny before we go anywhere?”

Selene rolled her eyes in Cat’s direction, clearly throwing her under the bus for her best friend being late. “Staff, you cannot get them.”

John’s hand took it upon itself to reach out and tweak the edge of the bustle pad type thing that was giving his woman a backside you could balance a tea tray on, unable to ignore it.

Just as Selene turned to admonish him for touching something he might not be able to afford, the main door to the bar opened and Penny swept in, looking every inch the Lady that she was. Dressed impeccably in what looked to be an original evening gown from the period, her eyes registered her shock at the low cut chemises, corsets and shortened ruffled bustle style skirts that adorned the other two women present.

“Did you not send her the brief?” Selene whispered to Cat, dropping the fake Russian accent she had adopted for a moment.

“Of course I did,” Cat hissed back. “But you know she likes to do things her way. I guess she just decided she knew better.”

“Then I guess that means we have a classy prostitute that’s just joined the ranks, best we got,” Selene whispered back.

“It sure does,” Cat shrugged. “We can make it work.”

“Not like we’ve got a choice,” Selene gripped her corset and hoiked it up, wiggling her boobs back into place then turned back to the boys. “Gentlemen, it is time, we have you now.”

“Is that supposed to be a romantic offer?” John asked, although he didn’t hesitate to offer his hand so she could drag him to his feet.

“In Russia we do not do the romance, we just do the bonk,” she told him, making Scott splutter with laughter. “We have not time for making nice. Time is money, friend.”

Penelope shot her fellow females a look of utter bewilderment with a dash of disdain but gamely moved to join them, running a judgemental eye around the bar and its less than pristine flooring. “I should not have worn great great great great Aunt Mildred’s debutant gown.”

“Yeah, probably not your greatest idea,” Cat laughed, giving her a quick hug in greeting before slipping her hand into Scott’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze as she led the way towards the door at the back of the room.

“What kept you?” Gordon asked, sidling up to Penelope in the hopes of stealing a quick kiss. Much as he loved his brothers partners it sucked to be playing the part of the third wheel. Penelope offered him her cheek, conscious of her perfectly applied lipstick, she might be completely over dressed and apparently out of character and her depth, but she was not about to let that stop her.

“I got held up at the Bureau, they’ve decided that everyone, regardless of experience or seniority, must now have a partner,” she snorted in disgust at the very thought that she might be counted among that number. My new recruit leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Sounds like a bad day,” Gordon winced sympathetically. “But you’re here now, so at least you can kick back, relax and have fun with us.”

Selene threw open the door and started climbing the stairs, stopping them all in a dark, dingy hallway which led off to more doors.

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Penelope huffed, catching the lacy edge of her skirt on a nail that stuck out from a door frame.

“Money first, no kiss, no taking home to mudder,” Selene called out, laying down the rules. “Catya! Penya! Ladies to your jobs.”

Cat grabbed Penny by the hand and towed her forwards to the front of their little huddle.

Selene shoved a door open and walked in two steps before stopping and letting out the longest, loudest and most dramatic scream she possessed, the one reserved purely for kilt shots of sexy heroes or cute animals.

“Holy hell!” Scott yelped, having been directly behind her and therefore deafened the most.

“No,” Cat shrieked, throwing herself over the mannequin splayed out on the floor, using all the acting skills she possessed as Selene and Penelope tried to pull her back up again. “Anna!”

“What on earth is going on here?” Gordon asked, completely lost at the turn of events that the evening had taken.

“You not know?” Selene sobbed dramatically, burying her face in John’s neck to hide the fact that she was still dry eyed as she huddled against his side. “You are in Whitechapel and you know not of the murders? Are you not detectives sent to save us?”

“Ah, I see,” Scott declared triumphantly, feeling rather smug that he’d worked it out before anyone else. “It’s some kind of murder mystery thing.”

“I see nothing!” Gordon whined. “Someone explain, please?”

“What you mean ‘murder mystery’?” Cat sniffed as she looked pleadingly up at Scott, finding it very hard to keep a straight face. “This our friend. You help us please? We not want to be next victim.”

“You help, we pay with kind, da?” Selene did some weird kind of boob shimmy that almost popped the twins right out of the corset that was barely holding them in as it was. John resisted the urge to throw his jacket over her head and drag her away right there and then before she lost every last ounce of dignity she possessed. He was right, they could not be trusted to be left alone to plan anything.

“Well, if that’s what’s at stake, then I think we’d better help the ladies, hadn’t we?” Scott asked, trying very hard to tear his eyes away from Cat’s behind as she crouched back down over the body on the floor.

“Let me make sure I understand this,” Penelope started. “You told me that we would be playing some kind of escape room scenarios and that we had to dress the part, at no point did you tell me that I was supposed to act as a braindead lady of ill repute.”

“Women no work for police,” Selene told her. “Women have but one job, to please man.”

“Women cannot work for the police? There to please men? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous!” Penelope gasped, utterly horrified at the way her friends were apparently happy to set women's liberation back a few centuries. “Now let me tell you somethin-”

“C’mon Penny,” Gordon bravely interrupted her, gently taking her hand and pulling her away from the main group slightly as the others all exchanged worried glances, wondering how this would play out. “It’s just a bit of fun for Scott’s birthday. Nobody means any harm by it.”

“That may be so,” Penelope sniffed, “but I still wish someone had told me in advance.”

“We did,” Selene reminded her, dropping her fake accent for a moment. “We sent you the package with the historical notes and details, it’s not our fault you didn’t read them.”

“And it’s not my fault I didn’t have time!” Penny shot back, her eyes meeting Selene’s in a challenge that nobody wanted to see the outcome of.

Selene’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Gordon took a step closer in case he needed to dive in between them to act as a human shield, but she seemed to think better of it, obviously caring more about the reason they were there, that being her best friend's birthday.

“Well if you’re really not comfortable then nobody is going to force you to do it, Penny,” Gordon continued, trying desperately to keep the peace and allow the night to go ahead more or less as planned. “Tell you what, if we need to keep the numbers equal, why don’t I take your role and you can do mine?”

“Yes, that would do very nicely, thank you,” Penelope replied, brightening instantly and placing a small kiss of thanks on Gordon’s cheek before moving to stand with Scott and John.

John had been wandering the room, taking in everything there was to see, but now his eyes strayed from the crime scene to catch Selene’s, one eyebrow lifting in question. She shrugged in return, she had no clue what was going on either.

“So how does this work then?” Scott asked, trying to move away from the slight awkwardness that seemed to have sprung up in the room.

“How this work?” Cat repeated, trying to hide the smirk of amusement that Scott was finally bamboozled by something from showing. “You police. You investigate scene, go back to police station. Find who did it.”

“Examining body is usually good place to start,” Selene nodded, slipping back into character. “It has been so long since last victim, we thought him gone.”

“We try to help,” Cat added, gesturing to Selene and Gordon. “Can ask us questions. We might know answers, might not. But you not know if not ask us.”

“Anna, rest her soul,” Selene did a wonky cross over her chest and closed her eyes, bowing her head respectfully. “She was good to her mudder, she had three children. They were life. Now she will not have beets to feed her family, for she has been so slain.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” John whispered to her, unable to help the small smile that formed.

“Oh, you know you want me to bring this accent home tonight,” she whispered back, trying not to lose character too much. “You are clever detective, with big,” she looked him up and down seductively, eyes lingering just a second too long below his belt, “brain. You help and I reward, da?”

“John,” Scott called, managing to gain John's attention before his brother's brain short circuited. “We need a game plan here.”

“I’d try reading that note first,” John suggested lightly, pointing at the slip of paper that was half hidden under the victim’s bloody torso.

“Well, sure, if you want to go for the obvious option,” Scott shrugged as if he’d known the note was there the whole time. John and Gordon were not fooled.

Scott bent down to retrieve the blood splattered letter, noting there were fingerprints on it.

“Did you really think I was gone?” he read aloud. “My victims are many in number and miles apart, but now I am back in my original hunting ground and embarking on a series of murders worse than the last. And this time I’m upping the stakes. You almost caught me the first time but you did not succeed. Now you have no choice, find me or I will come for you next. Signed, Jack.”

“Well, that is rather distressing,” Penelope commented. “Based on that note, along with the location and time period, it sounds like Jack the Ripper has made another appearance.”

“Da,” Selene nodded, sidling closer to John to hang off his arm in what she hoped looked to be a suitably terrified way while still rubbing herself against him like an over friendly cat. “It is not safe for us to be on streets. We are honest working girls-”

“Ahem,” Gordon interrupted, clearing his throat and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I swapped with Penny, remember?”

“Honest working people,” Selene corrected herself. “All we do is the sex.”

“You needn't sound so proud of it,” Penelope sniffed, leaning over the body to examine it. “There appears to be a number of wounds to her body, all of which look to be consistent with a stabbing and slashing motion made with a knife, if my memory serves that is correct for the setting.”

“This is not game,” Selene snapped, her temper flaring just a little. They all had their roles to play and Penelope was not taking it seriously enough. The escape room usually had actors that fulfilled the roles that she, Cat and apparently now, Gordon, were playing, but she and Cat had decided that that would likely mean they had too many detectives and would reduce both the fun and the time they would be in the rooms. They had paid extra to hire the whole of the establishment for two hours and to take on the roles themselves to increase the fun. They had spent days researching, learning their lines and brushing up on the details of the case, now it seemed that, not only had Penny neglected to do her homework, she was reluctant to play along.

“A lady detective, I think that’s a bit of alright, I do,” Gordon leered in an attempt to defuse the situation, sounding like a mix of Parker and a bad Dick Van Dyke, Mary Poppins accent.

Cat sniggered to herself, clearing her throat and assuming her character once again when Scott glanced at her.

“Find anything interesting, detective,” she drawled, swanning over to Scott in an attempt to distract him from his mission.

John rolled his eyes, moving to join Penelope at the scene of the crime, although he had to drag Selene with him as she still clung to his arm. “Pass me that camera, will you?”

Selene handed him an old fashioned camera that looked exactly like a victorian era piece but it had been updated with some kind of polaroid technology so that a picture was printed out of it almost instantly in period accurate sepia.

“Huh, that’s actually quite clever,” John reluctantly admitted as he snapped a few shots and collected the photos that came out, handing them to Scott for him to examine. “Penelope, can you bag up anything that you think could be evidence?”

“I’m a little busy here, John,” Penelope answered, already rummaging in the murdered dummy’s clothes.

Scott picked up the slack and took the leather bag that Cat handed him, taking a bag out of it to pick up anything that John might consider evidence. He picked up a key from the ground beside the victim, while John took a photo of a bloody boot print and then laid a piece of paper from the detectives bag over it to make a copy of it.

Selene took it upon herself to delve into the bag too and emerged triumphant, an old fashioned pair of handcuffs dangling from her fingers. She twirled them for a moment, whistling to get John’s attention, then attached them to her belt.

“For later, you will pay extra,” she informed him, blowing him a kiss.

“Do I get toys like that?” Scott asked Cat. “It is my birthday, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Cat answered with a wink. “You heard the lady, toys are extra, so you better have brought your big wallet with you.”

“Want to come find out?”

Cat looked him up and down appreciatively. “Is that a grapple gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Can you smell something?” Gordon asked Selene, adopting a conversational tone.

“Da," she nodded." Uglichsky.”

“Huh?”

“The english, they call it cheese.”

“Yes, exactly right, something is definitely cheesy around here and I think it’s coming from the birthday boy.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “Be nice to me, it’s my birthday!”

“And people think he’s the smooth one,” John sighed, shaking his head. “Can we get back to work now?”

Cat, Gordon and Selene shrugged their agreement.

“OK, you can start helping by telling us a bit more about the woman that was murdered and where you were in the hour leading up to the discovery of her body,” Scott suggested, although he soon wished he hadn’t.

What came next was a jumble of gossip of life on the streets, sordid tales of the woman’s past, each more outlandish than the last, a few too many details of her not so private life, some tips on love making in Russia that John was very sure Selene had made up on the spot and enough random information that all three detectives were more confused after than when they had started. Penelope had declared that they had all the information they needed and that they could relax until they were called for.

“Our work here is done,” Cat said, smiling proudly.

“Yeah, but look at them now, being all serious and shit,” Selene replied as she moved to join them, leaving the detectives to do their work.

“I wonder how long it’ll last,” Gordon grinned, lounging against a nearby wall.

“Longer than if you were with them,” Selene sniggered, nudging him gently when he feigned outrage.

Once Scott, John and Penelope had agreed that they had gathered as much evidence as they could from the crime scene, the girls, with Gordon trailing along between them, led the way to the room that housed the police station.

In the room there was a desk, a few chairs and some evidence boxes, along with piles of paperwork and notes. The walls were covered in photographs of the original Jack the Ripper crime scenes, case notes, maps and newspaper articles. There were also autopsy reports, witness statements and artistic renderings of potential suspects.

“Woah, this is actually pretty cool,” Gordon whistled, looking around the room.

“It does seem quite thorough,” John admitted, his eyes taking everything the room had to offer.

“I say we start with the first victim, work our way across the wall and then tackle the desk,” Scott decided, “that way if there is any hidden evidence on the desk we’re more likely to notice it.”

“Agreed,” John said, already calculating ways to catalogue the information they would discover.

“I’d rather start at the desk,” Penny cut in. “One often finds that the first place to look would be the last place someone sat, and they always leave things on desks.”

“Then, by all means,” Scott gave in graciously. “You know best, investigating is your job after all.”

“Scott and I can do the walls while you check the desk and then we can swap if that works for you?” John suggested. “That way we won’t be getting in each other's way.”

“That will do quite nicely,” Penelope smiled, moving to start rummaging through the desk.

“Make sure you don’t tamper with any evidence,” Gordon called cheekily to her, “you’re all supposed to be working together to solve this, not going for solo glory.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you, Gordon,” Penelope huffed, firmly tucking an errant hair behind her ear that had dared escape the meticulously crafted hairstyle that was a perfect replica of a late 18th century style.

“I was just kidding,” Gordon assured her, earning a little smile in return.

Huddled together in a corner with Gordon, Selene and Cat watched as the detectives got to work and congratulated themselves on picking such a unique and fun activity. It was always a bit of a mission to find something to do on any of the boys birthdays. The kind of things that were considered to be once in a lifetime dream opportunities for everyday folk were just a standard Wednesday to their Tracys, so they often had to think outside of the box. Virgil was the next in line and they were already brainstorming, if they left it to any of the brothers they would never leave the island. No, it took their input to get anything done.

“I think we did good,” Cat whispered to Selene as they waited to be called upon as witnesses.

“We did,” Selene agreed. She glanced at Gordon as he bounced about between Scott and John, getting in the way. She couldn't help but smile at his antics, obviously they had expected the boys to be doing the actual detective work and for Penelope to be with them, but they could adapt.

“Has Penny said anything to you?” Selene had to ask, watching the serious way that Penelope was studying a letter she had found in a desk drawer. Their purpose was to both help by answering questions but also to hinder the detectives if they were motoring through the rooms too quickly. The whole experience was supposed to last for at least two hours, giving them time to work up an appetite before they ‘escaped’ and made their way down to the restaurant at the back of the building where they would have a slightly more upmarket atmosphere to eat and drink in.

“Not a thing,” Cat shrugged. “But knowing her as I do, I’m going to assume she had a bad few days at work and is a bit ratty because of it.”

“I guess so,” Selene sighed. “Bit of a shame though, this is Scott’s night and I’ll be pretty pissed off if it ends up being soured because someone is in a foul mood.”

“As would I,” Cat agreed, watching her man as he chatted quietly with John, discussing something they had found.

“They look like they are doing far too well at this,” Selene murmured, nodding at their boys. “I think we need to intervene.”

“You read my mind,” Cat grinned, rearranging her top to show maximum boobs.

“The things we do so they have a good time,” Selene sighed dramatically as she patted her bustled behind. “You know, this thing is kinda growing on me.”

Cat sniggered as they slunk their way over to start annoying to detectives. “Come on, Gordon, do your job.”

“On it,” he saluted, grinning wide.

For the next ten minutes they worked their hardest to distract the detectives with rude tavern songs, a slightly uncoordinated version of the can-can, seductive whispering in their ears and promises of demonstrating the tricks they had learnt on the streets of London.

Hands had to be stopped from sneakily wandering, pieces of evidence had mysteriously vanished only to be found hidden in slightly suggestive places upon their bodies and John had forgotten what he’d been thinking entirely when he’d found himself the recipient of a spontaneous motorboating as he got up close and personal with his girl's chest. Even Penelope had given up on her grumpy mood enough to be jollied into giggling along a few times, that was until the moment that Gordon’s hand came into contact with her behind in a gentle smack.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

"Enticing you into a dalliance, my lady," he grinned, sweeping his barrow boy hat off his head in a mock bow.

"Yes," she hissed, clearly fed up to the back teeth of the antics going in around her. "A lady. Your lady, and one does not smack a lady's bottom in a public place. And you," she pointed a finger of doom at Cat and Selene, "look at you both, look at how you're dressed and acting. It's all well and good playing a role but you're taking it too far, don't you think?"

"How we're dressed?" Selene glanced down at her outfit which, by her standards, was actually pretty normal, although it was in blue and white rather than her usual gothic black. "Should I be insulted?"

Cat just looked shocked, she hadn't thought that their behaviour had been that bad, they had simply been having fun, playing the part. Scott, John and Gordon seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Had she somehow messed up? It was true that she didn't know the family as well as Selene did, since she didn't live with them and was still a relatively part time member, but she had planned this with Selene and was taking her cues from her.

"Oh, come on, Penny, relax a bit, will ya?" Gordon groaned, rolling his eyes.

"I am relaxed," Penelope said, turning back to the wall she was studying.

Scott, who was at the desk studying some papers, caught Gordon's eye, nodding towards Penelope. It was his birthday celebration and he wasn't impressed. Cat and Selene had put a lot of effort into organising it for him and he didn't want their time to be wasted. Cat looked like she was about to cry and Selene looked like she was about to curse something or someone. Much as Scott knew that Gordon hadn't meant anything by his actions or comments, he had simply been joining in after all, it was obvious that something was bothering Penelope and it needed fixing.

Gordon nodded his understanding and moved towards his girl. His arm slipped around her waist and, while she stiffened at first, after a few whispered words she relaxed, allowing herself to lean closer to him for a moment before she shook him off.

"Stop trying to distract me, I'm trying to concentrate."

"It's my job to distract you," Gordon teased gently but it did little good.

"And I'm trying to do my job, so kindly let me do it."

"Dang, and I thought Tracys were competitive," Selene whistled, trying to defuse the tension. "OK, let's do this, boys against girls, screw the rules, you in?"

"I'm so in," Cat agreed, "who says prostitutes can't work with the law?"

The object of the escape room was to find enough evidence to point to a particular suspect that had been chosen by the escape room organisers. Almost like a game of Cluedo where there was a different murderer, room and weapon every time, the escape room team cycled through five of the most well known suspects of the original case. There was no telling which they had picked this time so the girls did their best to help Penelope as she worked to put together all the clues she had found.

Selene had spent a fair amount of time with Penelope, enough to feel like she knew the other woman quite well, but she realised now that she only knew one facet of her personality. Their interactions had mostly been on a casual, socialising level because, although Selene did work with the GDF on a freelance basis now and then working anywhere she was needed, she mostly found herself teamed with Kayo or Rigby. She told herself that this was because she was just that damned handy that they only put her with the best, she refused to acknowledge the fact that they were likely the only ones no longer scared of her. That wasn't it at all.

So, somehow she had managed to spend more than three years in the family and never had the opportunity to watch the Lady at work, now she was kinda glad that she hadn't.

Penelope was very much like John in the fact that when she had a goal in sight she was very bloody minded. She knew what she needed to do and she refused to let anything stop her. Selene tried three times to offer suggestions or to point out what looked like it might be an interesting piece of evidence only to be told, politely but firmly, that she was very wrong. Never one to waste her time flogging a dead horse she passed the baton over to Cat, tapped out with a fist bump and switched allegiance without a shred or remorse or a backwards glance.

"I'm out! You're on your own," she declared, defecting to the enemy camp, announcing her presence with a sneaky grope of John's behind where he was bent over the desk, Scott still in possession of the only chair.

Cat watched her friend go, unable to blame her. She had had the dubious honour of calling Penelope her best friend for more than half her life but that didn't make her any easier to deal with when she was in one of her moods.

A focused Penny was often a snappy Penny, the severity of which Cat had forgotten after years of not working with her on anything like a professional basis. Penelope, much like anyone that came from a privileged background, was used to getting her own way and having things done to their exact specifications. When you worked alone as much as she did, you often forgot that there were other ways of doing things other than your own.

Cat was well aware that just having Parker for back up had done very little to soften Penelope's edges, in fact it seemed to have sharpened them. Oh, she couldn't deny that her friend was excellent at her job, top of her field and still climbing, but that left her little time to waste on those that would potentially hold her back. She was of the mind that if there was someone considered better than you, that simply meant you had more to prove and harder work to do. You didn't stop until you had no one to surpass.

“What’ve we still got to do then?” Cat asked, knowing better than to just dive in and inadvertently mess with whatever strategy Penny was using to solve the mystery.

“You can look at those if you want,” Penny replied curtly, nodding towards a series of pictures beside her, her focus still on the paper in her hand.

Cat sighed as she picked up the pictures, managing not to recoil at the murder scenes depicted on them, as she desperately tried to work out the best way to talk to her friend. It wasn’t unknown for Penny to be prickly and difficult when things didn’t go her way, and it was something that they had fallen out about in the past, but she hadn’t expected her to behave like this at a birthday event for her boyfriend's brother.

“Penny, what's going on with you tonight?” Cat asked, deciding that the direct approach was likeliest to be successful. If experience had taught her anything, it was that Penny was far too good at evading questions and hints if they didn’t suit her.

“Nothing,” Penny dismissed, her eyes still firmly on the job at hand.

“Don’t start that bullshit with me,” Cat replied quietly but firmly, enjoying the look of shock in Penny’s eyes as they flew up to meet hers, clearly not expecting to be challenged. “I know you far too well for your own good and this isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?” Penny deflected, trying to buy herself time, not liking the anger in Cat’s eyes but doubling down anyway. “I’m here aren’t I? I dressed up just like you asked and I’m even doing your little puzzles.”

“That’s not what I mean and well you know it,” Cat pressed, unimpressed but not surprised by the attempted diversion. “Yeah, you’re here, but you’re acting like you’d rather be literally anywhere else and I’m gonna need you to stop it before it ruins the night for Scott.”

Penny paused for a second, casting a glance around the room to ensure that nobody was in earshot before leaning in to Cat.

“If you must know, I’ve been feeling sick on and off for the last few days, so yes, I probably would rather be anywhere but here if I’m being honest,” she confided, feeling strangely glad to have unburdened herself on her friend.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear that,” Cat sympathised, concern for her friend’s health diluting her anger somewhat. “Do you think you’ve caught something?”

“Perhaps,” Penny replied stiffly, sitting herself back upright again, clearly not wanting to discuss it further.

“You look after yourself tonight, OK?” Cat pressed, not wanting to let the opportunity go. “But can you tone down the grumpiness a little? It’s Scott’s birthday night and we’ve put a lot of work into organising this.”

Taking Penny’s curt nod as an acknowledgement of what she had asked, Cat decided that she had done what she could for the time being. Looking around the room before getting back to her assigned task, she was glad to see that Scott at least seemed to be enjoying himself, absorbed in conversation with his brothers as Selene hovered nearby in case she was needed. Throwing a quick nod to her partner in crime in confirmation that she had tried her best, she reluctantly picked up the pictures again and began scanning them for clues.

Selene had little to do but watch the two teams, content to stay out of the way for the most part. Gordon had slotted back in with his brothers as he always did, the boys working together seamlessly to get the job done, focused now on their end goal.

John had all the relevant information correlated and they had moved onto the floor to spread out their findings. Talking together in hushed voices they were soon busily discussing their theories, expanding on or rejecting as needed until they had narrowed down their suspects to just two.

They held one last, whispered conversation, huddling together even closer when Cat wandered a little too close to their workspace and made their decision.

"So, we're in agreement?" Scott asked.

"Yep," Gordon clarified, John nodding with him.

"Even though I'm the IT guy, I'll allow you to input it, since it's your birthday," John grinned, carefully folding the piece of paper in which they had scribbled their conclusion and passing it to Scott.

"How generous of you," Scott quipped. Taking the paper he crossed over to the old fashioned typewriter that had been set up on the desk.

"What are you doing?" Cat asked suspiciously, "you can't be done already."

"Oh, I think you'll find that I am," Scott replied with a cheeky grin as he started typing out their answer. The typewriter had been modernised so that anything typed on it would be automatically transmitted to the central computer that controlled the escape room, the one that would either release them, or condemn them to try again.

"You don't normally say that so proudly," Cat shot back, making Gordon howl with laughter.

Scott ignored her to continue typing. He finished the last word, hit return and waited.

Somewhere in the hall a buzzer sounded, along with the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking.

“Is that it? Did we do it?” Gordon asked, almost bouncing with excitement.

John stuck his head out into the hallway, ducking back in a second later.

“Gentlemen, we are victorious,” he announced in as serious a tone as he could muster.

“They won?” Penelope glanced at Cat, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Cat shrugged in return. She didn’t really care who won as long as Scott had a good time. "They beat us?"

“Yes!” Scott cheered, high fiving Gordon. “Team Tracy for the win! What’s our prize?”

“I don’t know about you, but I quite like the look of our helpers,” John grinned, sliding an arm around Selene’s waist to pull her in against his side. “Doesn’t the hero always get the girl?”

“Only if he have coin,” Selene shot back, yelping when his hand bounced off her padded backside. “But in this case, I shall make exception. We call it taste test, da?”

“Now I know how Julia Roberts felt in Pretty Woman,” Gordon grinned cheekily. “Here I am, turning cheap tricks on the street and I’ve nabbed myself a real Lady. Personally, I think we all lucked out.”

“Is that so?” Penelope drawled, but she allowed a small smile to flirt with her lips, one that got larger when Gordon followed his announcement up with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “You are impossible.”

“So they all say,” Gordon agreed, offering her his arm. “My lady?”

“Good, sir,” she acknowledged, slipping her arm through his with an accepting nod of her head.

“I’d certainly be very happy to accept our helpers as a prize,” Scott laughed, pulling Cat towards him and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now, anyone got any idea of what happens next?”

Just as he spoke, a member of the escape room staff poked their head into the room. “Congratulations. You have found the killer. Thanks to you, London is safe again. Now, to whom should I give the hat of master detective?”

“Me,” Scott announced without hesitation, accepting the deerstalker hat and placing it proudly on his head before anyone could argue.

“If you’d like to follow me, dinner will be served downstairs in the restaurant. You must all be very hungry after all your hard work.”

“Oh thank God,” Scott declared, doing his best to ignore the stifled giggles aimed at his headwear coming from the rest of his family. “I’m starving.”

“Is there ever a point at which you’re not hungry?” asked Cat, genuinely interested to know the answer.

“Nope,” Scott answered proudly, yelping as Gordon swiped the hat off his head from behind as they walked.

“Gordon, you look ridiculous,” Penny giggled as he tried to put it on over the hat he’d forgotten he was already wearing. “Give it back to Scott. It’s his birthday after all,” she added, catching Cat’s eyes with a quick smile of acknowledgment as she tried to atone for her earlier outbursts.

“Seems unfair but OK,” Gordon grumbled good naturedly, handing the hat back as they entered the restaurant.

“Finally, somewhere that's not a total health hazard,” John muttered to Selene as they took their seats.

Totally ignoring him, not that he cared, Selene fussed around Scott, making sure that the birthday boy was comfortably seated at the top of the table with everything he could possibly need on hand if he wanted it. The start of the evening hadn’t exactly gone as they’d planned but she’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy what was left of the night.

There was something so rewarding about your first decent drink of the night after you’d suffered the stress of event planning and Selene was more than grateful to be able to slip into her chair between Gordon and John and pick up the vodka apple cocktail that had been delivered to her.

“A toast,” Scott started, holding up his beer.

“Isn’t one of us supposed to do that?” John asked as he grabbed his own beer bottle.

“Birthday rights,” Scott told him smugly. “I just wanted to thank you all for being here tonight, thank the girls for planning such a great activity with such pleasant eye candy and for joining in to make it fun.”

“Sure, why not,” Selene agreed, saluting with her glass. “To birthday rights and milking them.”

“Damn straight,” Scott grinned.

“To annoying older brothers on their birthday,” Gordon added.

“To brothers who aren’t safe to be left alone with your witch,” John grumbled goodnaturedly.

“Many happy returns to good friends,” Penelope continued.

Scott looked at Cat, one eyebrow raised in anticipation. “What have you got for me? Anything you wish to bestow upon me for the next year? Any praise that should be coming my way?”

“To my favourite dumbass in the whole world,” Cat grinned, raising her glass to join the rest. “May this year bring you health, happiness and as many enormous steaks as you can eat. Happy birthday, Scott.”

“Now that’s something I can definitely get on board with,” Scott laughed, raising his glass to his lips.

“Are you ready to order?” a waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere. He was dressed in period clothing, as were all the other staff members and a few patrons.

“What do you have here?” Gordon asked. He, like all of the Tracy family, enjoyed nothing more than a good meal and since there had been many years where such a thing was not always readily available, they had learnt to make the most of any time they were somewhere where food was cooked for them by someone who wouldn’t destroy it.

“Your meal tonight will consist of six courses,” the waiter started.

“Six!” Gordon yelped.

“There goes my waistline again, I’d only just found it again after Christmas,” Selene groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I know this is supposed to be a traditional Victorian meal, but who thought this was a good idea?”

“You,” Cat reminded her.

“Shh, woman,” Selene growled but Cat just smirked, unbothered by the threat. She knew her far too well to take her seriously now.

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve had,” Scott grinned. “I’m so hungry I could eat my hat.”

“Even the ear flaps?” Gordon asked. Scott nodded seriously.

The waiter coughed politely.

“So sorry,” Penelope apologised, “do continue.”

“Your first course is a choice of pheasant or cream of asparagus soup, served with fresh bread. This will be followed with a lettuce salad with accompanying cheese fingers.”

A few eyebrows rose at this.

“Next you have your choice of fish course, consisting of either baked salmon with sauce hollandaise, oysters rockefeller or stewed eels.”

“Eels?” Selene made a face of pure disgust which was echoed by Cat and John.

“For your entree meats you have a choice of hunters style stuffed venison, roasted chicken, pan fried duck, lamb medallions or a sirloin of beef. You can pick any combination.”

“Any combination?” Scott was practically drooling.

The waiter nodded, clearly having seen the disbelieving faces many times before.

“All are accompanied by a choice of wild mushroom risotto, boiled new potatoes, potato croquettes or boiled rice, along with green peas and seasonal vegetables.”

“I’m in heaven,” Gordon groaned.

“For your dessert course we have a choice of a delicious lemon sorbet, chocolate mousse, sugar biscuits or a selection of petits fours. This will be followed by a cheese course and finally coffees,” the waiter finished with a flourish, clearly enjoying playing the part. He stood with his order pad, awaiting their decision.

Blank faces stared back.

“Clearly this is new to you all,” Penelope sighed. “You must excuse them. I’d like the asparagus soup and then the baked salmon, followed by the venison with boiled potatoes and the sorbet to finish. Thank you.”

“How the heck did you do that?” Gordon goggled. “I’m pretty sure even John didn't catch all that.” He looked at his brother for confirmation.

“I made it up to the meat selection,” John confirmed.

“I’ve forgotten everything before chocolate mousse,” Selene admitted.

“I got stuck on the eels,” Cat joined in.

“I’m still trying to decide which meats to pick,” Scott finished.

“It’s quite alright, sirs, madames,” the waiter assured them, producing a number of printed menu cards from somewhere about his person. “I shall give you a moment to decide while I fetch tonight's choice of wines and refresh your waters.”

“Thank you,” Cat called after him, already scanning the menu.

A lively debate broke out as everyone discussed the options, deciding what they would like and struck up bargains amongst themselves of who would get to try a sample of the others meal. Scott, of course, had pulled out his birthday card again to secure himself a taste of everyone's food.

Decisions finally made it was a better informed group that reeled off their choice of food to the waiter, who’s name they found out was Carl. He left them with four bottles of wine and didn’t even baulk at Scott ordering the sirloin, lamb medallions and the roast chicken. He was getting the biggest tip of the year that night.

-x-

“I can’t walk, I’m too fat, carry me.”

“My love, I adore you, but if you are indeed as fat as you claim I doubt carrying you would be good for my health.”

Selene paused to think about this, wondering just how her man seemed to be able to drink the amount of beer and wine he had and still form a coherent and slightly sarcastic response. It was one of the many things she found quite sexy about him. Hmm, sexy...

“I do like your body to be in peak health,” she mused, letting her eyes wander up and down his body, taking in the tailored coat, waistcoat, neckerchief and shirt combo that was sitting so well on him. His hair had been brushed back and styled in a close approximation of the era's popular side parted look and it suited him to perfection, though she missed that familiar curl she liked to run her fingers through. “I’ve heard that regular exercise is key, for which I’m always willing to lend a hand.”

One eyebrow rose at her assessing stare and blatant ogling of his person. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he assured her, trying to keep his serious tone but only just managing it.

“Good, you do that,” she insisted, wobbling slightly on her heels as she tried to keep to a straight line. She sighed happily when his arm draped around her shoulders, helping to keep her upright. She slipped her arm around his waist, leaning closer. This was good. This was nice.

“Do you think Scott had a good time?” she asked quietly, watching Scott and Cat as they walked a little way ahead of them.

John rolled his eyes, having known this was coming. She always got like this when she had a few drinks in her. She would either be so over confident she thought she was a queen or she started doubting her very existence.

“You know he did,” John assured her. “You always manage to somehow dream up the best ideas for us, something we very much appreciate, and joining forces with Cat made it all the better.”

“Cat’s great,” Selene said, smiling dopily. “I love her, she’s the best.”

“You love everyone when you’re tipsy, I should be grateful that I’m getting any attention at all.”

“Oh hush, you’ll get more attention than you can handle when we get home.”

“I must admit, a night of peace and quiet alone in our little apartment, before we return to the madness of the island tomorrow, is sounding like heaven.”

“Just the peace and quiet?” Selene’s hand slid its way neatly from the small of his back to his right buttcheek.

“Not just that,” he admitted. He glanced at his brothers and their respective partners. “Can we say goodnight now?”

Selene followed his gaze, still feeling the need to check the situation one last time before she abandoned her duty of best friend for the night and concentrated on her man.

Scott and Cat were giggling so loudly she could hear it echoing around the quiet streets, that and the clack, clack, clack, skkerch noise of Cat’s heels as she stumbled now and then. Scott was trying admirably to keep her upright, just as John was with her, but it seemed that all of the ballerina’s balance and poise had abandoned her.

“They seem happy enough,” she murmured, her eyes searching out the other two. Gordon and Penelope were walking close together, though there was a lot less holding up than the other two. Gordon was a little winding in his walking but was holding his own, chatting amicably, clearly on his best and most charming behaviour. Penelope was the vision of a perfectly put together lady, she always was no matter how much she drank. Not that she seemed to have indulged much from what Selene could tell.

“Did you see Penny drinking much tonight?”

John paused, frowning lightly as he thought about it. “No, I don’t believe I did. We went straight up to the rooms when she arrived so she missed out on the first drinks and she said she wasn’t in the mood for those wines and, since she doesn't touch hard liquor and can’t stand the taste of beer, she’d stick to fruit juice.”

“Makes sense,” Selene shrugged, not bothering to think too much about it. “Gordon seems to be back in her good books now so I guess it’s safe to leave them all to their own devices.”

“Good enough for me,” he grinned, stealing a quick kiss before raising his voice to be heard. “Scott, Gordon! We’re heading home, don’t forget to be ready to go at one, any later and we’ll leave without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gordon called back. “And if I ask if we’re nearly there yet one more time you’ll dump me out at 5,000 feet.”

“Too right I will,” John answered, not even trying to deny the threat as being a possibility. “Scott?”

“One, got it,” his brother responded after a well placed elbow to the ribs from Cat. “Although you know you’ll have to wait for me, it is my birthday.”

“One more day, that’s all you have left to use that excuse,” Selene reminded him.

“And I’m gonna milk it for all it’s worth,” he assured her, opening his arms for a hug.

Selene pulled him into her arms, yelping when he grabbed her a little too tightly and tried to lift her into the air, holding her against his chest as he rocked her back and forth.

“John! A little help!” she patted Scott’s back ineffectively, dropping her bag which hit the ground with a suspiciously metal sounding rattling clunk.

“Alright, bro, that’s enough, give her back and go home,” John ordered, rescuing his girl from his brother’s limpet like grasp. “Go fling your own around until she throws up.”

“Good plan!” Scott, who had been on the verge of pouting when his cuddle buddy had been stolen, now grinned.

It was Cat’s turn to shriek as she was unceremoniously grabbed around the waist and hoisted up to drape over his shoulder as he took off running.

“Don’t drop her!” Selene called but they were gone.

“And people think I’m the one to watch out for,” Gordon mock sighed, shaking his head.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” John laughed.

“Night, Pen,” Selene said, giving the other woman a hug goodbye and then Gordon.

They waited until the pair had wandered off in the direction of their hotel, Penelope having given Parker his freedom for the night, before Selene allowed John to drag her to the tube station. Everyone was taken care of, the night had come to an end and now she could finally relax.

-x-

“Are you OK there?” Cat giggled as she threw her keys on the table, the amount of wine she had drunk with the meal making the sight of Scott sprawled on her sofa, looking very much like he might pass out any second much more amusing to her than it usually would.

“I’m absolutely fine,” he smiled up at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her down beside him. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” she laughed as she teetered dangerously on the edge of the sofa before losing her fight with gravity and slipping onto the floor with a bump. “Just that I’ve never seen anyone eat that amount of meat and remain conscious before.”

“Clearly, you’ve never been out for a meal with Virgil then,” Scott chuckled, undoing his belt and top button to give himself more room. Now that she’d mentioned it, he did feel rather full, not that he’d ever let her know that.

Cat spun herself around where she sat, threading an arm around Scott’s waist and resting her head on his chest, enjoying the peace and quiet her flat afforded them as he absent-mindedly stroked her hair.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight then?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably as the bones of her corset started to dig in. How Selene managed to wear stuff like this on a regular basis was beyond her, although she did have to admit that it gave her a good figure which she had caught Scott admiring on more than one occasion over the course of the night, so perhaps she was onto something.

“It was awesome,” Scott declared, sensing Cat’s discomfort and making room on the sofa for her. “You did a great job.”

Cat let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she hauled herself up beside him. “I’m so glad. It’s a bloody nightmare trying to think of anything for you lot.”

“Well, I really appreciate the thought that went into it,” he continued, flashing her a dazzling smile. “It was a great night and I think everyone had fun. Even Penny seemed to get into it by the end.”

“Yeah, she got there eventually,” Cat agreed, relieved that her friend’s behaviour hadn’t soured his enjoyment of the night. “Anyway, now we’re home, there’s something I want to give you.”

“It’s the handcuffs from earlier isn’t it?” he guessed, genuinely unsure as to whether that would be a good thing or not.

“No, I think Selene took them,” she giggled, enjoying the look of horror that passed over Scott’s face before he shook his head to clear unwanted thoughts of what his little brother and best friend may or may not be up to at that moment.

Jumping up from the sofa, Cat grabbed a small box that she’d carefully stowed on the mantelpiece earlier, handing it to him carefully. “Happy Birthday Scott,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly before retaking her place on the sofa beside him.

“Thank you,” Scott beamed as he started to peel off the wrapping paper, taken by surprise by the gift. They had talked about it beforehand and he had assured her that spending the evening together would be more than enough for him to be happy, so this was completely unexpected.

Cat just smiled in reply, taking a sip of her drink as she anxiously waited for him to open it. Buying the man who had literally everything he could ever dream of something for his birthday was a task that she had hated every minute of and a tight knot formed in her stomach in case she had somehow got it wrong.

“It’s amazing,” Scott gushed, finally opening the lid of the box and pulling an antique pocket watch out of its satin bed to examine it better, running an appreciative finger over the ornate filigree on the back. “I absolutely love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Cat smiled, relief rushing through her as he went straight back to scrutinising his new toy. “But your present isn’t just the watch though, it’s really what the watch represents.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me there,” Scott admitted, a small frown appearing on his face as he looked up in surprise.

“Time,” Cat explained, her grin becoming wider as she became more confident in her choice. “From today, I’ve arranged for us to both have seven whole days off from our jobs. We’re going back to the island tomorrow but then what we do is absolutely up to you. We can stay there, come back here or do anything else that you might like.”

For once in his life, Scott was speechless, unable to think of any response other than to grab Cat and pull her into a tight hug. “How?” was all he could manage when he finally let her go. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“John and Selene helped me sort it out,” Cat explained. “He’s going to stay down and let EOS run Five while you’re away so there’s backup if needed.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “I don’t remember when I last had that amount of time off in one go.”

“That’s exactly what Selene said when I mentioned the idea to her,” Cat smiled, relaxing back against the cushions now that she knew her idea was a success.

“Do you think we really have to go back tomorrow though?” Scott wheedled, nuzzling into Cat’s neck, trying to hit all the spots that he knew usually made her putty in his hands. “Can we not just stay here for the whole week, order lots of pizza and be really antisocial?”

“Nice try,” she laughed, using all her strength to shove him off. “Selene and I are cooking you a birthday meal for all the family so yeah, you do kinda need to be there for that. But after that we can absolutely just chill out here if that’s what you'd like.”

“Spoilsport,” Scott grumbled goodnaturedly, his smile giving away his true feelings about the prospect of having all of his family around him for a meal not cooked by his grandma.

“Yep,” Cat agreed cheerfully. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing probably,” he shrugged. “Too tired and full at the moment.”

“Thought as much,” she concurred, nestling in and resting her head on his chest.

Silence descended over them as they lay, lost in their own thoughts. Turning his watch over in his free hand, Scott was unable to stop himself from fiddling with the clasp, repeatedly opening and closing the case as a smile crept onto his lips, the evening replaying in his mind.

“Is it time for bed yet?” Cat yawned eventually, the adrenaline from making sure the night ran smoothly finally beginning to wear off.

“Let me check,” Scott grinned, opening the watch case once more and squinting at it. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”

“C’mon then,” she decided as she pushed herself off the sofa, somehow finding the energy to help haul Scott upright from where he was almost horizontal on the cushions.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sleepily, draping an arm around her shoulder as they made their way towards the bedroom and some well-earned rest. “This has been the best birthday ever.”

#Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Penelope Creighton Ward #selene tempest #Catriona George #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction

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youremyonlyhope · 3 years

Text

Starship Rewatch

10 years ago today (well, yesterday since I’m posting it a day later), 15 year old Hope curled up on her couch to watch a new StarKid show called Starship right as it dropped. This was the first time I got to watch a show when it was posted since I didn’t become a StarKid fan until a months earlier. I was so excited.

And now, I’m rewatching Starship for the first time in full in at least 5 years I think. I listened to the soundtrack twice earlier today, singing along at my desk at work (thank god no one else was here tonight to judge me). I still know so many of the lyrics. And so many little jokes and stuff were flooding back. Starship was my favorite StarKid show for a long time, so I’m so excited to watch this again to see if it’s still my fave.

This post ended up being really long, so you’ve been warned. But it also includes pictures of the crocheted Roach and Bugette plushies that I made as a teen.

OH. THE OLD LOGO. AHHH. I already have so many feels. The future is now! I can’t handle this. The nostalgia! The Galactic League of Extraterrestrial Exploration. My facebook account to this day says I am a Starship Ranger at the G.L.E.E. because I’ve never bothered to change it. Also, shoutout to anyone from the StarKidPotter FB and EFST days if you’re reading this. AHHH IT’S CHRIS AND ERIC. Ok I might have to pause 20 thousand times during this Starship Ranger ad to acknowledge all the StarKid cameos. Tyler! “We come to conquer... in peace!” Tyler I love you. Brian and Richard! I forgot they painted Richard BLUE. Britney and Ariel! Nicholas Joseph Stauss-Matathia! I see that StarKid’s website has shortened his name to just Nicholas Strauss but remember the days when we’d purposefully say his full name? Anyway, I literally just screamed “NICK” when I saw him because he was always one of my faves. The Old Snatch was and still is iconic. Devin and Lily! The Wizard God himself, AJ Holmes. God... remember those AJ Holmes appreciation days where we’d make Chuck Norris-like memes about AJ? So much is rushing back from the depths of my mind oh my god... It’s been so long yet it feels like yesterday... “Someone really *static* F- *static* -ucked up big time” Love it.

2 minutes and 22 seconds in. I’ve written so much. I had to pause before Joey started singing to take a moment. I love this show so much. I love these goofballs so much. And they’re all so young. Most of them are younger than I am now. This is insane.

Ok I have to promise myself not to pause as much now. *Spoiler, I failed*

“I’ll fight off this gamma radiation if it’s the last thing I ever do!... We’re going down! This is the last thing I’ll ever do!” Oh my god. Look at baby Joey. He hasn’t even graduated from college yet. And that Bug puppet! Someone remind me to dig up the pictures of my crocheted plushies of Starship puppets since I made Roach and Bugette and gave them to the StarKids at SPACE and Apocalyptour. (I also did Rumbleroar, but the bugs were my own pattern I made so I was more proud) The camera is focused in on Bug instead of Joey’s face. I love it. So much. Brannnttttttt. My god. Am I gonna freak out over every single entrance? Roach pretending to die, he’s the best friend ever. “The needs of the many bugs outweigh the needs of the few bugs.” “Or the one bug, I know.” Oh man, when that line comes back... “Dirt eater” “Exoskeleton polisher” “I wanna build honeycombs” “The bug that ruins your picnic” “A fly on the wall!” That line came back to me earlier today and I died. Remembering that line was like 50% of the reason I listened to the soundtrack today.

Nick Lang! Julia! LAUREN LOPEZ. THERE SHE IS. Lovebugs, I can’t. *Sentimental music* “You could come over to my nest and I could... tear off your head and let my larva devour your body?” How did I forget that line? The way Lauren has to kick Bugette’s larva sack to walk. But the way that it also works so well with the character. I can’t. The Mosquito Brothers!! I forgot they show up so early. “This is our sister, Sweetheart” “...YO.” I CANNOT HANDLE JIM POVOLO. The “zzzz”s like buzzing as backing vocals instead of the usual “ahs” and “oohs.” The things you don’t appreciate until years later. Darren, you genius. That is such a good detail. For a second I couldn’t remember who the Overqueen is played by. 99% sure it’s Jim (It is). Also. Overqueen like ovary... and it looks like a giant vagina. That had to be pointed out to me later. “FLATTERY WILL GET YOU... everywhere.” Why did I forget that line too? “I’m a starship ranger” “Quiet you, you’re drunk” “No I’m drunk!” I remembered that line probably like... 2 minutes earlier when I noticed Joe huddling in the background and realized that line was coming up. The way Joey lets go of the puppet so both he and the puppet walk away with their arms limp... so cute.

Before even pressing play on part 3, I can hear February saying “Let the record show I am super ahead of schedule.” and I’m dying. I forgot about Brian as the escape pod. Denise Donovan! That Star Trek prop. I’m dumb so I can’t remember if it’s a communicator or what. But I know my Uhura Barbie had a mini one that I lost within a month probably. “OxyGen” “Schience” I can’t. “Mission Log... I think I just heard a spooky noise.” How am I forgetting all of these amazing lines? “Pika-pi!” AHHH I JUST SCREAMED. “My stars, I seemed to have landed in a field of these aMiNals!” I can’t. “Can I tell you guys something?” *port de bras and falls gently to the ground* “Hello!” “TOTORO!” I’m dead. The balloon mechanism on the mosquitos! I forgot about that! “HOLY SHIT IT’S A BUUUUGGGGG” Ok something I noticed but didn’t mention earlier. The bug puppet that Joe uses when he says “I had my heart set on nourishment” is the same one red and pink one that Julia used when talking about wanting to be nourishment. When Julia actually gets eaten, she’s using a different bug puppet, the green and pink one, but the same character voice. So, I can’t tell if they intentionally had her play 2 bugs so Joe could be one of them later, or if it was a mistake. I might also just be overthinking things. “ME THINKS IT WENT THAT-A-WAY” I cannot handle Jim Povolo. That scream Joe does as he slimes her. Woah I originally wrote “There seems to be no signs of intelligent lifeforms anywhere” earlier and then deleted it since I don’t know why I found it remarkable. And then looking at the comments of this part I see someone mentioned a Toy Story reference. So that’s why that line stuck out to me. Aww StarKid. There are so many Disney references in this show.

THERE SHE IS. THERE’S MY GIRL TAZ. The pew pew effects how could I forget that! “Hey Taz. You’re pretty tough for a chick.” “I was just going to say the same thing about you.” “Woahhhhhhhh” JoMo oh my god. “My spectrometer readings are off the wazooooooo” That line kills me. Why am I JUST NOW noticing, 10 years later, that Tootsie enters this scene with his gun facing the wrong way. Oh my god. “I saw the empirical proof that science killed god. It’s comforting to know he was once alive though. I like to think that when he died, he went to heaven.” Oh Tootsie Noodles. “...What the hell kind of name is that?” “He’s got bear hands??” Why do I forget all of these lines??!? That record scratch and freeze frame to go “BOOOOOO” oh my god I forgot that. “Like the other day, he was in the cafeteria, just cah-rying in front of everybody.” BOOOOOOO. Here we go, Taz’s amazing Up monologue. “And when Up, cuts an onion, the ONION is the one who cry.” HELP. Also 99% sure I used that joke for AJ appreciation at least one year. “Now take a walk off my knife” What a line. So awesome. I remember having a profile pic on FB that was the text of that monologue and the image of Lauren screaming “WALK IT OFF” I’m still convinced that first “WOO” from the audience that we hear when Up enters is Darren. “I do not peepee sitting down” “Huh??” JoMo’s face as if he’s trying his hardest not to laugh and I can’t tell if that’s him breaking character or if Krayonder is actually trying not to laugh. “I peepee like big boy, deadgoddamnit. So stop making fun of me because it hurts my feelings” I’m dying. Also, deadgoddamnit is amazing. “if you don’t go out there and die for something, then I will kill you for nothing.” I remembered the mirror scene, just seconds before it started and already started laughing. “You’re not a failure, overall.” “Allow me to introduce you to the final member of your team. MegaGirl!” I forgot how DRAMATIC that was. I also forgot that’s how MegaGirl comes into the story.

I need to stop pausing every 5 seconds oh my god I’ll never finish this tonight if I don’t.

“All hail AstroBoy” That was the funniest line. “MegaGirl, can you kill humans?” “No. But I’d like to.” I can’t handle it. “A horse ate my cousin! Me and horses got a feud.” #1 MegaGirl doing the “I’m watching you” hand sign. I can’t. “Hey. Miráme. *Slaps* NOW ESCHUCHAME” amazing. “Or that time. You taught me calculus... CALCULUS WAS TOUGH.” I never went past pre-calc. Nope. Ah. Get Back Up. One of my fave songs. “And now we dance.” Dylan’s “OW” as they lean back. “Ok Idiotas. Say something nice. Or I will kill you.” It’s all so iconic.

“So you still think being an egg planter is lame?” “...Yes.” The larva oh my god. I forgot we see one before the end. That’s Jaime playing the larva I think. Life is definitely one of my all-time favorite StarKid songs to this day. I wish it was longer. I love it so much. And I love that its instrumental is scattered as a motif throughout the show. “It’s a short, small thing we lead. With so much potential, pointless or essential, which one can I be?” Wow. Near Pippin levels of giving me an existential crisis. Also wow Joey improved his singing so much between AVPS and Starship. “My name’s Bug” “*Gasp!* Like a bug??” “Uh... no.” “Good. I’m February, like the month, but a person.” I should start saying that honestly. “I’m Hope, like the concept, but a person.” “You boldly go where every man -hey- woman -bark woof- or data dog has ever gone before! Sorry K9DX” Adorable. Joey’s subtle little double nod he makes the Bug puppet do when he’s shocked she thinks he’s a Starship Ranger. Amazing. Ah he said goddamn not deadgoddamn! February should have known right then he wasn’t human! “Take my claw” that too. "The only thing that needs to rest are your jokes, because they are so tired.” “Woahhhhhh” No but like... why don’t I use that line in everyday life... “Now I am slightly less weak.” “Ok. I’m going to shoot this metal bitch!” I’m dying. How did I forget the Taz/MegaGirl rivalry?? “That thing is a R-O-B-O-T man” “Can’t fool me with numbers, Krayonder.” I’m dead. “The stack of hay was my cousin!” #2 The way Meredith says “barometric pressure” is great. And Tootsie saying “Well you must take real good care of it, because I never would have guessed.” He’s such a sweetheart. “Nobody shoot dammit, nobody shoot.” “KILL KILL KILL” I never really liked Hideous Creatures but it’s so cute to see MegaGirl do the choreo robotically. I love that the Gap hasn’t changed. “Cool it skank, you do not know me.” Another line that I forgot until a split second before it was said. I’m so glad whoever edited this added some pews going in the wrong way for Tootsie’s gun. I know I definitely noticed Tootsie’s gun was backwards during this part, but I don’t know if I noticed it was backwards in that very first scene too. I forgot about MegaGirl tossing out Specs. That “MEGAGIRL!!!” scream from Joe though.

“Never in my 6 long days of life.” Underappreciated joke. Also, I think this is the 4th unique upright bug puppet. We got red/pink, green/blue, green/pink, and now red/blue. Also, Nick Lang is a great puppeteer. “Yes, I helped her escape. But I swear, never in a million years, did I think I’d be caught and yelled at for it!” Oh I forgot Bugette is the witness. Jaime’s angry face behind Joey is killing me. “He didn’t know the humans were evil.” “Oh, they’re not.” “Shut up!” Humoons and hoomans. “And no more singing or dancing” *gasps of horror* “The Overqueen has overspoken.” “Well, that’s not gonna help your chances with Bugette” Oh Roach. “PERHAPS.” Jim destroys me.

God the 4-person Pincer puppet. Amazing. Dylan’s arms being strong enough to be above his head for 10 minutes straight. Amazing. Also, Nick Lang is so emotive as a claw. It took me a sec but yeah JoMo is the tail. “There were? Where are they?” Joey’s face. “Tell me all about her” The claws under the chin I can’t. Hey StarKid, I see you throwing in an ad mid-video before Kick It Up a Notch. You’re lucky I love and support you guys. “Put ‘em together and what have you got?” bibbity boppity boo. More Disney references! This scene is full of them. Man, remember when we were all blown away by Dylan’s voice in this song the first time? Like we could tell he could sing in AVPM/S, but his songs were just so jokey and only his long “Welcooooooooooome” showed us his talent. But then Kick It Up a Notch happened. And we FINALLY appreciated Dylan’s beautiful voice. “I pushed it to the limit.” and “To coin a phrase, be a man.” more Disney. I might be overthinking this and will have to rewatch Life to confirm, but I think the camera zooming out as Pincer reprises Life is just like the camerawork when Bug sang it originally. If so, then wow even when filming their shows StarKid really thinks it all through. (Update: It totally is referencing the original zooms for Life and that’s amazing. Except it’s zooming out instead of in. I LOVE the attention to detail even in filming the show. I’m gonna guess that’s Liam’s doing.) All I can see when I hear Bug’s chorus of this song is Jaime and her SPACE tour dancing, which they incorporated in Apocalyptour as actual choreography. Because they’re goofballs. The kick line. Love it. God. Even though it’s not my favorite song from Starship (just because I love Life and Beauty more), Kick It Up A Notch is one of the best StarKid has ever done. I really has everything. Dylan’s gorgeous voice. Not one but two reprises of earlier songs to throw Bug’s own words back at him. Jim’s bass line. Awesome puppets. Disney references. It’s so amazing. I love how all the comments are either about Dylan’s voice or Dylan’s ability to hold his arms up for a 10+ minute scene or both.

"Gameover man, gameover!” “I feel like cutting open your belly, and filling it with jelly” *Gasps* Oh my god, I put on the captions for a second, and the caption said *Sad spayed puppy noises* “I am in charge of this mission now.” How did I forget about the mustache until 2 seconds before it happened? “She’s got the mustache now. *Kisses head* I love you” Oh my god Tootsie. I FORGOT ABOUT THE SECOND STACHE. There’s an ad right when we see Bug’s human form and I can’t even care because look at him! Ahhh. And the blue headband! Ahhhhh. Joey you’re so adorableeeee. “Bug? Well that’s a fine name.” His concerned face then the relief. Adorable. “Thank you sir. I am a tough bitch.” “Getting nothing but bug muff?!?” I love the slight delay the audience has before laughing as they realize what was just said. “Bug. You hard, ese. You flame.” I die. “Up there. In Space!” *dramatic pointing* No I totally didn’t just do the dramatic pointing with them... no that’s not in my muscle memory from 10 years ago... why would you think that. I’ll rave about Status Quo after it’s done. “But, what if I miss you?” Awwwwwwwww. And that “Just look up.” screenshot was used for “This.” memes in the fandom for years.

Oh Joey. Status Quo is such a good song too. And he really did improve as a singer to sing it. Earlier this week I remembered that this week is also the 10th anniversary of that time Darren was hopping from city to city every single day to promote the Warblers album. And at one point in that week he did a livestream that I remember rushing home to watch. In that livestream, I am 99% sure he sang Status Quo as a little sneak preview for Starship being released later that week. (Just checked, yep he sang it in a livestream on April 20 2011) God I love this song. Then the version the boys all sang for SPACE Tour was beyond beautiful too. Ahhh I love this musical.

Ok. It’s almost midnight. I started this 3 hours ago. I’m probably not finishing the show until 2am at the rate that I’m pausing and stopping to comment. But OH WELL.

“Dr. Spaceclaw” wow. “Leaving them behind was of little consequence, but a pleasure.” Oh Megagirl. “You did a very good job today too, son.” “*Gasp* Thanks dad.” That Star Wars fake-out though. Speaking of Star Wars, I really need to rewatch Ani now that I’m actively a Star Wars fan unlike last time when I still wasn’t invested in the movies I just watched them. How did I forget about Jaime playing Junior’s new mom?? ...Does Junior get an alien incubating in his chest... is that foreshadowing... I can’t remember. (This was like... half a foreshadow) This scene is funnier now that Breredith is married. The way Junior says “Phew” I’m dead. I remembered how they restrain MegaGirl once again 2 seconds before it happened oh my god. “We deserve bubbles on our skin.” An iconic line. “Well thank the long dead god you made it, Bug!” The crunching of the handshake, I can’t. Oh someone in the comments pointed out that Bug and February are doing the Tarzan hand thing while Up’s asking Taz to see a movie. Adorable.

Get yourself a man like Tootsie who won’t stand for you talking down about yourself. “Maybe this was all part of God’s plan. He made before he died.” I love the dead god jokes. I remember years ago some kid on facebook was like “The dead god jokes are offensive” and I was like “It’s a sci-fi musical about a bug in a human body but sure worry about god being dead.” but probably in an even more immature answer. I’m just mesmerized by Tootsie and MegaGirl’s verses. God. The first Dylan and Meredith duet. Amazing. And MegaGirl’s confused face is great. “Don’t press that button, or we’ll all be sucked into space.” So... Can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is? Oh shoot... ok wait no I’ll comment on that when we get there. God that is such a cute love song. I wrote barely anything just because I love that song so much. Would love to know where Tootsie’s taking her though.

Oh my god this scene! I forgot about this. How could I forget this. “Well the world always looks a little bit brighter, from on top of a lap.” I had remembered Bug sitting on Up’s lap, but not Specs. This is the part I forgot. Adorable. Ahhhh so cute. The Specs/Krayonder relationship was apparently cut from the filmed version, but was present if you saw it live. These moments are adorable. And I love how this is the second person JoMo’s had to carry in this show since he also carried Denise earlier. “Why if it isn’t Bug, my oldest friend.” and “Don’t say that, my dear.” are adorable. Oh wait. Up sat on Bug’s lap. Not the other way around. Ok. I didn’t remember this scene as well as I thought I did. I’m dying. I didn’t want to write anything during this, but oh my god “That son of a bitch Optimus Prime” I forgot that. I love the audience’s reaction to “The entire right side of my body, it’s a robot” because they all gasp, and then laugh at themselves for gasping. I knew there was something he couldn’t do without crying. I didn’t remember it being “Sir I Wanna Buy These Shoes” Christmas Song. It’s ok Up, I haven’t listened to that song in full in years. I can’t handle it. But Christmas songs in general make me cry too. Oh Up said goddamn instead of deadgoddamn too. Hmm... Aww the mother spider story. “I think the old you was just killing out of hate.” “Oh I was.” I’m dying. Awwww the nose kiss. I definitely remembered that. “Deadgodspeed soldier!” The way Joey misses catching the keys and also Darren’s “Woo!” in the audience again. So great. That 12 minute scene is just adorable and the Up story is so dramatic and hilarious.

Hmm finishing before 2am might be ambitious... “Hahaha. Then I’ll shoot him!” “Taking care of my business down on the planet is that cool with you?” Brian’s delivery of that line has always intrigued me. “How much I care about my MegaGirl unit’s survival is also a percent equivalent to zero” Rude. “You are nothing like my boyfriend, Tootsie Noodles.” “Yes, well - wait WHAAA” This scene is so different now that they’re married. “Ha. Ha. It was cute.” “You’re... a toaster.” *Slaps* Ok 1) I used to use that insult all the time and only half ironically. I was a strange teenager. 2) She just hurt a human... isn’t that against programming, or can she just not kill humans? Evil angry Brolden is something we need more of. I love Brian as a villain. More please. “You stupid goddamn robot” So I guess they say goddamn and deadgoddamnit. I’m overthinking the evolution of language in this universe. Also Brian’s screams while being choked are amazing. I’ve never forgotten those, if anything they’re better now.

AHHHH I REFRESHED AND DELETED ALL OF MY STUFF FOR BEAUTY. Kill me. I’m so mad. Let me try to recreate it but I hate myself. I was saving this draft after every part but OF COURSE I don’t save after my favorite song and then refresh.

Oh poor Meredith. Her white wig doesn’t let her blend in as much when she’s in the hoodies playing a bug. “Oh hey Bugette, we’re just trying to get Bug laid!” That bug had to know about Bugette’s crush though? That’s just cruel. “The ending is killer” ruuuuuuddddddddddeee. I know I had at least one more point, but that’s lost to the ether. Beauty is probably my fave, if not tied with Life. When I was listening to it earlier, I was overcome with emotion because it’s just such a joyful song. These days I cry over happy stuff almost as much as I cry over the sad. And these lines just hit so hard... I love it. I love this song so much and this scene so much. “Bug. She excreted her filth for you. WE DID IT!!!!!!!!” Brant Cox is so good. It really is a shame he’s not in anything else besides AVPSY and the 10th Anniversary with everyone else. “I do accept you for who you really are. A genius.” Well February, you’ll be glad to know that you thought of that, so you’re the genius. Wow. Junior’s 25, Brian was 25, and now I’m 25. This really was perfect timing for the 10th anniversary. Also I do not feel 25. “Suck off!” amazing.

I’M SAVING THIS TIME.

Ok next part. Luckily I was only 1 minute into the next part when I refreshed. Still so mad at myself... “Someone really firetrucked up big time” (Dead)God I love that line. I also used firetruck unironically. Once again, I was a strange teenager and I didn’t like cursing and I still don’t. “This is so weird, I’m so used to the scrambly version.” (It was while writing this line the first time that I refreshed and lost Beauty....) Ok as I watch AJ, it’s hitting me that he almost definitely came to the set during rehearsals and filmed his part since it’s not a green screen like the rest of them. “The hunters have become the hunted, and it’s wabbit season.” “That was a good video, until the end when it got sad.” Thanks Bug. “I think, I just had a think” See February’s smart. “I’m in a weird situation” Love that line. “Bug is a BUG!? I DON’T BELIEVE IT” Oh Junior. Dylan’s insulted face at “I am not... a dumbass.” So I can’t tell if Brian forgets he’s trapped when he moves his arms into a more relaxed position to lean on the column and then puts them back, or if it’s purposefully staged that way. Brian’s acting while he pretends to be shy and embarrassed about his evil plan is amazing and adorable. Brian has a good evil laugh, why don’t we get him as a villain more often? Also I was gonna make some sort of joke about Nick as Pincer’s left claw vs. Robert as Snarl’s left paw, but I’ll leave it be.

I FORGOT ABOUT THAT WEIGHT TAZ WAS LIFTING JUST FLOATING UP TO THE SKY WHEN SHE LETS GO. I just laughed out loud. “Damn that G.L.E.E. They’re always making twisted abominations of everything!!” I cannot handle it. And the wink. Poor Darren but also not poor Darren at all. I was just now WRACKING my mind for who could possibly be playing Pincer’s tail if JoMo was being devoured by mosquitos. It’s Brant. Literally the entire cast is currently onstage. Ok Krayonder’s been getting his blood drained for 3 minutes, why is he alive? OH I FORGOT KRAYONDER GETS UP AND SHOOTS THE BUGS. Ok and he gets chopped by Pincer’s claws too so HOW does he survive? StarKid answer!!! I forgot how dramatic this musical gets when you got both the bugs and MegaGirl coming after the humans. Aww the Vulcan salute from Specs. “I changed my name. To Tootsie... MegaGirl.” I love the reactions of the people in the audience who immediately realize what that means. I hear at least one “oh my god” that sounds like sobbing. Awwwww Tootsie’s “that’s real” speech and “I’d love you if you was the horse that ate my cousin.” (#3) just... get yourself a man like Tootsie MegaGirl. He is perfection. God the downloading love scene is so cute. I can’t handle it.

The Up saving Taz scene is so dramatic. Then Brian and Jim just calmly walk offstage. It kills me. Also why did Jaime just continue to lie there? “I just needed to learn how to kill with my heart.” Not exactly what Bug meant, but it works. God Taz climbing onto Up’s back is still the most hilarious thing ever. Whoever thought of her climbing that way was a genius. So funny. I always wanted to try it. Holding the gun up to her head like a blowdryer always gave me anxiety. Making the door out of a scrim that can be backlit was genius. Oof and bringing back “The needs of the many bugs outweigh the needs of the few bugs. Or the one bug.” just hurts. Poor Bug. My heart. This is probably the line that sticks with me to this day and I do think about sometimes.

Ok it’s now 2am and I still have 2 more parts.

I sorta love that Joey didn’t have the time to change into his blacks so he’s still in the Starship Ranger suit while playing the Bug puppet. “Save the Overqueen. I love her.” Awww. “Roach, I’m gonna get the job done if it’s the second last thing I do.” Love it. That Kick It Up A Notch Reprise though. Brian, you should play villains more often. Also remember all of us being like “LUPIN CAN SING?!?!?!??!!” “Lucky for me, God is dead. When you see him in hell, tell him Junior sent you.” Deadgod I love that line. This whole deadgod thing was just leading up to that amazing line. Oh no Bugette! Bug saying “maestro” oh my god. “DFSDSJFDSJKFDS... I’m dead.” I forgot that part! Oh my god the way Brian flicks the glasses back down on his face. Ok so I saw Lauren wiggle her way behind the mucus sac, but I didn’t see Nick come onstage. I rewinded, and I guess the zoom in shots on Brian and Joey were timed so we can’t see Nick join Lauren to be the first larva to come out. Oh well. And I love the crowd cheering as Junior dies. “And bingo was his name-o” That callback though. I forgot that the Overqueen eats Bugette’s body while crying. “Or Bugette! Oh...” Also god Roach is adorable.

Last part. 2:21am. Here we go. Krayonder got his blood sucked out by giant mosquitos and was cut up by a giant scorpion, but all he needs is a bandage around his head. Awwww the soft “I Wanna Be” playing the background as Bug begs the team to accept his bug form. Bug being so mad “It’s that bastard Pincer isn’t it?” and then being so happy that Joey does the little nose scrunch thing. So cute. JOEY’S FACE WHEN DENISE KISSES THE BUG PUPPET. Cannot believe I forgot that until 2 seconds before it happened too. “I now pronounce you man vs. machine. Fight!” WOAH. Why in the WORLD did “eep op ork ahah” come back to me. I was able to say it WITH Joey. That was straight from the DEPTHS of my teenage brain oh my god. I forgot about that oh my GOD. THAT’S INSANE. I FORGOT SO MUCH STUFF BUT I REMEMBERED HOW TO SAY “I LOVE YOU” IN BUG.

And the Beauty reprise.

God I love this musical. It’s still my fave StarKid show I think. And I’m horrified to see that it has only 500K views for the last part, so only 500K people have watched it all the way through after 10 years. That’s disgraceful. It’s amazing. Watch Starship.

It is 2:32am. I started at 8:50pm. Got sidetracked when I had to rewatch the Beauty part of Act 2 again to make sure I got my notes back in the post. Took a few bathroom breaks. But this is mostly because I paused every like 10 seconds to make a comment, so it took 5 and a half hours to watch a 3 hour musical. This why I take forever to watch things while liveblogging. I take too long to writing notes.

I’ll probably just post this in the morning. Gotta proofread for mistakes before posting.

Ok it’s the next afternoon. This post is literally 5,000+ words and takes 20 minutes to read according to a online word counter. I’m sorry to whoever read this entire thing. Your reward is the pictures of the Starship plushies I crocheted when I was 15 and 16.

(Ignore the bad lighting and my horribly chipped paint. That’s the only picture I have of the Bugette one since I gave it to Lauren Lopez a day later. I started making another for myself shortly after but never finished. Maybe I should finally finish the second one... hmm...)

#hope rewatches starkid #guys i'm not kidding it's 5000+ words i wrote a lot i commented on basically every single second of this 3 hour musical

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sambinnie · 3 years

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1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit?

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like.

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really.

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running.

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups.

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently.

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t.

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation.

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that?

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack.

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted.

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous.

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias.

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good.

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February.

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please.

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved.

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards.

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful.

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