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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

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That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."

#carry on #carry on: the rise and fall of simon snow #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #simon/baz #simon and baz #fanfiction #carry on fanfiction #carry on fanfic #fanfic #ticklish!simon #ticklish!simonsnow #lee!simon #ler!baz

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 8: Moceit

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 8 - The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away.

Content warnings (oh boy): This is an afterlife fic! Meaning there is technically character death, but it is essentially the beginning of a whole new life, and the death itself is only briefly touched upon. That being said, warnings for; hypothermia/frostbite, death, car accident, talk of past death, mention of cancer, brief description of body horror (no gore).

Word count: 2.8k

It started when Janus was two. His parents were awoken by his feral cries, throwing open the door to his room, imagining the worst. They recoiled immediately upon touching him, his skin almost freezing to the touch. They closed the bedroom window and piled him in more layers until he stopped wailing, but that was only the start.

When he was six, his mother explained soulmates to him. He looked at her with huge eyes, fiddling with the sleeves of his oversized hoodie, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

When he was ten, he had grown sick and tired of the constant cold. A majority of his classmates and friends hadn’t met their soulmates yet, but they all didn’t seem as bothered by it as he was. They didn’t keep their winter jackets on in class, no matter the season, and their hands were never too cold to hold a pencil.

When he was thirteen, he caught hypothermia. At the insistence of his older brother, he joined him outside in the snow for a hike in the forest. His countless layers and heat pads in his pockets only did so much when they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and while his brother seemed to be unaffected by the cold, Janus woke up the next day in the hospital. He could vaguely remember falling face first into the snow, his cold slowly morphing into pleasant warmth, his brother shouting his name. The doctors were unable to save his left eye, leaving him half blind, and his frostbite scars never quite disappeared. They said the very fact that he survived was some kind of miracle. He didn’t go into the snow after that.

When he was sixteen, his mother took him to a doctor. After thorough examination, the man could find nothing wrong with him. He suggested B-12 supplements and a list of ways to increase his circulation, and when that did nothing to help months later, he sat them both down in his office and explained it most likely meant Janus’ soulmate had died. Janus didn’t know until that moment that it was possible to miss someone you’ve never met, but he cried on the way home. His mom said nothing.

When he was eighteen, Janus was alone. He had become reclusive and standoffish, unwilling to spend time around any of the people who tried to befriend him. All of them had soulmates. All of them got to be happy.

When he was twenty, his family suggested group therapy for those who had lost their soulmates, and he had reluctantly gone to one session. For a moment, he felt at home, surrounded by other people in thick sweaters and jackets and gloves, until he learned that all of them had lost their soulmates after meeting them. They had been able to spend years together, enjoying each other’s company, before losing the love of their life. When he explained his situation, he was only met with the same sympathetic looks he’d received everywhere else in life, and he never went back.

When he was twenty-two, he graduated with his Bachelor’s degree in psychology. The crowd was the quietest it had been all night; no one knew this guy, but it felt wrong to not cheer at all. He shook the Dean’s hand with thick yellow gloves and took the diploma, ignoring the man’s confused raised eyebrow and walking away to the noise of half-hearted claps.

When he was twenty-five, life was okay. Not good, just okay. He’d found a lab job in the psychological social experiment aspect that paid decently and wasn’t a total bore. Most nights he was numb, especially after experiments that revolved around soulmates, so he turned on Netflix and poured a glass of wine and fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in a thick weighted blanket. Life is fine, he told himself. It could be worse.

And when Janus was twenty-seven, he died. It was an accident; a mix of a long tiring day and an ignored red light just as he was crossing the street. The car barreled through the intersection, other car horns blaring, and he looked up just in time to see the person looking down, probably on their phone. He’d never know. The impact was quick, and he didn’t even have time to feel pain before the world went dark. He was a little grateful for that.

It stayed dark for a long while after that. Well, in full honesty, he didn’t know how long it was. It felt like a long time, but it also felt extraordinarily short. The seconds turned to years and millennia became mere minutes, the very concept of time fading away just as he did. A minuscule part of him was still aware that he was conscious, and he probably should have been a little scared of that, because did that mean he was destined to float around as an unattached subconscious for eternity? A larger part of him was just relieved to finally rest, with the weight of student debt and an exhaustingly lonely life finally gone.

Until it wasn’t. The light crept into the center of his vision first and he grumbled in annoyance. Let me just enjoy it a second longer, he thought distantly, but the light didn’t listen as it slowly spread across his vision like molasses. For the first time in his life, he realized with a start, he didn’t feel cold. There was a heat in his chest that he’d never felt before, and he was scared when the darkness faded, so would the warmth.

“Janus, are you okay?” A desperate voice broke through his dark haze in whisps, slowly clearing the fog that had set in. It rambled on, “Oh, stupid question. You just died. Sorry! Can you see me?”

His vision lit up all the way, replacing the darkness but not taking away the heat. Perfect. He was about to answer no to the stranger’s question; there was just a blur of blue and white and green, until the figure loomed that much closer and came into focus. It was a man, probably his age, with bright blue eyes and floppy golden hair, his freckled nose just inches from Janus’. His eyes held concern but he was smiling like no tomorrow. The man seemed to realize when Janus could in fact see him clearly and backed away, holding out a hand to help him up. Why was he lying on the ground? Where was he?

That question was answered as soon as he took the offered hand, looking around him in shock. Apparently the dark void hadn’t held him for as long as he thought. A distant siren pierced the air, and people’s shouts rang over each other as they milled around the body in the street, his body. The car that had hit him was nowhere to be seen. It was all too surreal, too uncomfortable, and he turned back to the man standing in front of him. They were standing on the sidewalk, just meters away from the gruesome scene on the street, and Janus suddenly felt very lightheaded.

“I carried you away as soon as your soul formed. Didn’t want to overwhelm you when you opened your eyes for the first time.”

“I’m dead?”

“Yep,” The man answered just a bit too cheerfully, before noticing the newcomer’s expression and softening, “Sorry. I’ve been here for a while, the shock has kind of worn down.”

“What’s here?”

“The afterlife. Deathny World. Aliven’t. I’ve heard it all.”

“Ah,” Janus choked, trying to take in the environment around him without looking at his own dead body, or the paramedics that had just arrived on the scene. It looked like the real world, and obviously they were still in the real world to some extent since he was witnessing the aftereffects of his own death, but the subtle mist floating through the air was definitely new. It curled through the air gently, resting on every surface it could land on, coloring the world with soft rainbow hues. It was the real world, it was just as if he was seeing more of it for the first time. The parts that were invisible before. An orange tuft graced by his ear and he could just make out the sound of someone laughing, the smell of fresh bread, the taste of fresh jam on a summer morning. A smile tugged at his lips before he realized.

“Forgotten memories,” The man spoke up, as if reading his mind. “Every lost memory of every person winds up here. Mostly good ones, but some are bad. You’ll learn how to sift through them soon enough.”

Janus was finally able to pull himself away from the colorful world, staring into the bright eyes of the stranger. “Who are you?”

“I’m Patton,” he said with a new grin, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I’m your soulmate.”

--------------------------------------

It took Janus a much longer time than he would have liked to admit to unfreeze from the revelation, Patton taking his hand gently and sinking them out to a new location. His stomach churned upon rising up, the new sensation making him nauseous. He didn’t recognize where they were, some cafe, and Patton gently pushed him into a seat before strolling up to the counter with no hesitation, starting a conversation with the barista and gesturing to Janus. The mist, the lost memories, were gone, replaced with a golden haze that gave the world a soft glow. The air was thick with the smell of coffee beans and cookies that instantly calmed Janus’ stomach. When Patton finally walked back to him, two mugs in hand, he explained.

“This is the soul world. We can pop in from the real world to this one whenever we want. Some souls choose to stay on one side predominantly, some switch back and forth a lot.”

“This single cafe is the soul world?”

“Oh! No, my bad! There’s a whole lot more outside. I’ll have to show you later. Right now, though, just relax. You’ve had a… long day, to say the least.” He pushed one of the cups into Janus’ grasp.

“What is it?” He asked skeptically. It looked like coffee, but who’s to say anything anymore.

“Whatever you want it to be. Think of your favorite drink, then try it.”

Janus narrowed his eyes but lifted the mug to his lifts, trying to think of a single drink he liked. His mind decided that this was the ideal moment to forget everything he ever drank in his entire short life, so when he finally took a sip, the liquid was disgustingly tasteless. Like warm water. He set the drink down, watching Patton intensely.

Janus took in his appearance, his general shock finally beginning to wear off. An open light blue button up over a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was pretty much Janus’ definition of cute, what with those stupidly adorable dimples and little golden locket hanging on his neck. If he’d met him when he was alive, he no doubt would have fallen head over heels for him.

“You’re my soulmate? How is that…” He cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t blushing, “How is that possible?”

Patton hummed, wiping off what appeared to be a hot chocolate moustache, “I died when I was three. Cancer.”

“That’s awful.”

Patton shrugged, taking another sip, “It wasn’t great. I woke up by myself, still half wedged in my own corpse. It was terrifying. My parents were crying, and I tried to tell them I was there, somehow, but they couldn’t see me.”

“Totally not traumatic at all.”

The man actually laughed, despite the dark story, “I had to figure everything out for myself. Sinking down, navigating both worlds, how to control my own form… which you are doing surprisingly well at, by the way.”

Janus glanced down at himself. He definitely wasn’t alive, that much was sure, if the wisps of yellow smoke cascading down him were any indication. If he concentrated hard enough, the fog began to disappear, leaving him looking normal, albeit a bit paler. As soon as his mind drifted, however, the golden trails were back.

“This was the first place I was able to rise up in in this world. It’s kind of an easy access point. I popped up behind the counter, scared the living daylights out of Virgil.” He pointed to the barista who was currently chatting with another person ghost, laughing over identical mugs with them. “He’s been here a while. Two hundred years, give or take.”

Janus paled, the idea of eternity becoming just that much more real. “Oh…”

“Yeah. He kind of raised me. And then when I was old enough to understand, he explained that I’d left a soulmate behind. I cried for hours after that.” He smiled sadly, finally meeting Janus’ eyes.

“You knew my name,” The younger recalled suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “Right when I was waking up, you said my name.”

Patton looked almost sheepish, focusing back on the cup between his hands, “After Virgil told me… I kind of made it my personal mission to find my soulmate. I spent a lot of time in the real world, years, trying to find you, and of course checking in on my parents sometimes. Ghosts don’t need sleep, we can sleep, if we want, but we don’t need to, so it was a constant search. And then, my parents both ended up in the hospital, long story, and I wanted to be there when they woke up. Make their transition into the new world a little easier than mine was,” His expression lit up, wiggling a little in his seat, “And while I was there, I stumbled across a certain young patient with severe frostbite and hypothermia.”

“Me.”

“Mmhm. And I felt this weird warmth in my chest, which is weird, because ghosts don’t really feel temperature. It didn’t last that long, just a couple seconds, really, but it was enough time to know.”

“The soulbond.”

“Yep.”

They both drank in unison. This time, Janus’ drink tasted like the unsweetened chamomile tea from the hospital. He made a sour face and put the cup back down. He stared into his reflection for a moment, almost captivated in the sloshing against the sides of the mug, before Patton spoke again.

“I spent most of my time in the alive-world after that. With you. And it sucked, because there was nothing I wanted more than to talk to you and hug you and just let you know I existed… you were so sad…”

“Yeah…” Janus mumbled, tapping the ridge of his cup with his fingernail. “Is that why you were at the accident?”

“I tried to stop it,” Patton whispered, a look of pure guilt crossing his face, “I couldn’t tug you back though, and you didn’t hear me. So the least I could do was pull you out when you formed and take you away from the crowd.”

The odd language was starting to confuse Janus, the weird differentiation between his soul and his body, the terminology regarding the soul world he didn’t understand… it was all just a lot.

“So… Do we age? You’re obviously not three anymore. But the barista doesn’t look two hundred.”

“Virgil. And… I don’t know.”

“Very comforting.”

“You’re sassy.”

“That I am.”

For the first time in a very long time, Janus’ lips twitched into a smile in response to the absolute beam on Patton’s face. No one had ever taken his snark as anything other than bitchiness, but this guy, his soulmate, seemed to love it.

“As far as I know, we won’t. I think I only aged along with you, and now that you’re here, we’re probably done.” He had finished his drink, the barista swooping in out of nowhere and plucking it from his grasp with an impish grin. Patton shouted his thanks as Virgil disappeared into the back room. “He’s been waiting to meet you for a long time. But he can be a handful, so we’ll save proper introductions until you’re settled. Speaking of which…” He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and offering his hand to Janus once more. “I can show you where residency is, if you’d like. It might be nice to take a nap, just to process.”

Janus considered. The vague sounding ‘residency’ was intriguing, but he was much too restless to sleep right now. He voiced as much. “Maybe later. Do you think you could show me around first?”

The grin Patton gave him was bright enough to power a city block. Janus took the extended hand and the man squealed, pulling him towards the door excitedly. Yeah. He was definitely already falling for the literal ball of sunshine that was his soulmate.

“One grand tour of the afterlife, coming up!”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts afterlife au #moceit #ts soulmate au #sanderssides #soulmate september #soulmateseptember

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twewy-comix · 3 years

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the 9th liveblog post

hard to believe we’re already this far in! i wonder if the last episode will have Bonus Content that ties into neo?

LAST TIME: MURDER

wow. neku even manspreads in his sleep

well, everyone else did it, so now it’s beat’s turn for the Backstory Feelings Jam

DUDE THIS GUY’S JUST CRASHING INTO EVERYONE kinda reminds me of when i try to play racing games

so that’s how rhyme and beat died, along with probably half the other players. jesus

neku is shocked to learn that the two blonde kids with matching outfits are related somehow (in the jp version of the game he also thought rhyme was a boy. our genius protagonist!) (ok tbf she does use “boku”. and she talked about her older brother like he was a different person. But Still)

thanks

k-kawaii

i noticed from the start that living people had less saturated colors, but theyre practically greyscale now. did they gradually change it and im only just realizing??

(another interesting bit of foreshadowing related to that that i noticed on a rewatch - the guy who gives eiji the box of red skull pins has saturated colors... like players and reapers. WHAT COULD IT MEAN)

also also: i mentioned last time how the environment gets gloomier each episode. now the sky is red! like an evil laser could shoot down from it any second!! anyway the red pins are evil and they cant scan anyone

beat says something smart and points out that the red pins have the same design as the player pins, and you cant scan anyone wearing the latter either, so they have to be made by the same person

so now neku’s freaking out because the composer designed the player pins -> CAT designed the red skull pins -> CAT is hanekoma -> ???!??! l-l-let’s go look for konishi instead and never think about this again

MEANWHILE: kariya is keeping his food far, far away from uzuki this time

but she’s not that hungry

oh, right, beat wasnt there for the first Backstory Feelings Jam

so yeah, there’s a bunch of noise everywhere and they go to get rid of it even though they were just talking about not attracting attention by fighting and stuff

yeah, seriously

no. NO!! I CAN’T DO THIS AGAIN--

oh thank god it’s only a fancy birdcage. ...squirrelcage

ok so team rocket says they’ll free rhyme from squirrel jail if neku and beat can win against them in a fight. unfortunately tin pin doesnt exist in this universe so that means violence

me when someone on twitter says my opinion is bad

unfortunately neku never did find that copy of bambi for ps2

everything went better than expected!

just kidding no it didnt

maybe it’s konishi who needs to go to squirrel jail :/

AWKWARDLY-PLACED BACKSTORY FEELINGS JAM TIME

“i dont see any rainbows”

and now they’re homogenous

“nice tabooty”

NEXT TIME: THE COUNTLESS TWITTER REPLIES

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 years

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Worst Case Scenario

The apocalypse isn’t going to be instantaneous. It won’t be one big event, one and done, it will take years, decades, centuries even. Crop yields will decrease, birth rates will decrease, life expectancy will decrease, infant mortality will increase, the population will plateau and start dropping generation after generation. People will adjust to it, it will be so slow that it will become just another part of life. Countless species will go extinct as their habitats are destroyed; deserts will grow, forests will shrink, sea levels will rise, which will poison the oceans with billions of tons of coastal infrastructure.

Have you ever noticed those weird rainbow puddles in grocery store parking lots, or the dark lines in the center of highway lanes? Those are oil drippings from car engines

Once the waters come, all of that and more will be washed into the ocean. Just think of how much garbage there is everywhere; if you look down, you will almost certainly see some sort of waste. Candy wrappers, beer bottles, cigarette butts, chip bags, all of that will wash into the oceans too. Not to mention all the debris from the millions of buildings that will go under as well! Coastal waters will be brown all the way to the horizon, ocean currents will carry all this filth around the world, making the Great Pacific Garbage Patch look like a wastepaper basket by comparison.

Fish will die, so fishermen will have to go into deeper waters for longer to find food, depleting their populations even faster! Laws will be written to allow them to catch smaller and smaller fish, regulations will be slashed which will only make things worse in the long run.

Every summer, wildfires tear through the California countryside, so it’s not hard to imagine a world where these fires start spreading east. Can you imagine the horror if Kansas or Iowa caught fire? Nothing but dry crops as far a the eye can see, the perfect tinder. Soil will become less and less arable, leading to another Dust Bowl, only this time on a national scale.

Florida, my home, will be underwater in a century or two. Louisiana and the Mississippi basin will be swept off the map. California’s Central Valley will become a toxic inland sea, full of cars and houses and so much plastic. The Mojave and Sonoran and Chihuahuan deserts will spread eastward, consuming the great plains. The Rocky Mountains will heat up, the snow caps will melt, creating terrible landslides and mudflows, non-volcanic lahars.

Every year will surpass the one before it as the hottest year on record. The Northwest Passage will be open year round, it will rain in the Antarctic desert (desert doesn’t mean hot, desert means dry; Antarctica is covered in ice, but it has very little precipitation, so yes, it’s a desert).

Millions of people will die, billions will be displaced. Diseases once thought eradicated will burn through the population as we lose our ability to fight it; industrialization will collapse, infrastructure and transportation will break down, the sick and the poor will die en masse while the rich hide away in their insular communities, looking out only for themselves. They’ll kick the can down the road as long as they can before they too run out of supplies and succumb to the destruction they’ve wrought.

Humans will be extinct in less than 1000 years, and countless species with them. This tragedy could be avoided, but the powers that be refuse to change course. They profit too much in the short term to give half a shit about the long term, and they will be all our undoing. My grandchildren and their grandchildren will inherit the mess we ourselves inherited, blame will shift from one generation to the next, while all the billionaires and trillion dollar corporations who are truly responsible will get off scot free. Climate change is a class struggle; it’s economical just as much as it is ecological.

#humanity isn't a disease #capitalism is #apocalypse #worst case scenario #post apocalyptic #the end of the world as we know it #it's the end of the world as we know it #teotwawki #climate change #global warming #climate disaster #disaster #armageddon #ragnarok #human extinction #humanity #eat the rich #pessimism #pessimist

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crusherthedoctor · 4 years

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When taking Lutrudis as a concept into account, it could be argued that the decision to have her live in a big, fairytale-like castle would be an unwise idea, maybe even counterintuitive, since a place so extravagant might undermine her intended loneliness and yearning for a more fulfilling life, adventure, and all that jazz before Sonic and company entered the picture. The last thing I’d want with Trudy would be to remind people of Chris “woe is me” Thorndyke and his rich kid mansion lifestyle. Not to mention that since some of the townspeople in Lime Shores can act rather ignorant (and in some cases, antagonistic) towards her, a lavish castle might also undermine the underdog nature of that particular setup.

Despite these concerns however, I felt confident with my plan, and I figured that as long as I knew what I was doing, readers would understand what I had in mind. I’ve explained in the past that a castle would better accommodate someone with her EDS, so right off the bat, you already have a practical justification for it. It also helps that whereas the accursed Thorndyke had his parents, friends, grandad, butler, etc etc etc etc... Trudy genuinely had no one to turn to before the heroes arrived for their intended vacation. So with that said, let’s examine this particular building for a bit, complete with pics for comparison’s sake, as well as a certain cavern full of Ethereal goodness that happens to be nearby...

Creating the Residence: Trudy’s Castle

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: The outside environment is not too subtly inspired by Autumn Plains from Spyro 2, better known to non-Spyro fans as my blog background.

A serene yet lonely autumnal forest backdrop, with a big stone castle smack dab in the center. It’s not one-to-one the same of course - instead of a pool, the front area boasts a lovely garden full of different flowers, and there’s also a lake nearby - but the mood is more or less what you see here.

However, this partly serves to contrast with what’s behind closed doors. As acknowledged in Beyond the Stars proper, the interior of the castle instead goes for a different and grander, yet equally inviting atmosphere when you take that first step inside. Instead of stone, you see marble and wood, and instead of grey and green, you have reds, creams, maroons, and golds (with a few complimentary blues and purples thanks to the flags hovering above).

As the lady herself mentions, Trudy discovered that the interior was in a state of disarray when she obtained it, and she was of the belief that a castle as beautiful and rich in history as this one deserved better than to be forgotten and wither away in the coming generations. The least she felt she could do was give it a modern, yet respectful redecoration, and give the old building a second, loving life in the process.

Yes, that means every spot of detail inside this castle was done single-handedly. Entirely on her lonesome. It took ages to complete, especially when taking her EDS into account, but she was determined to give the place its due, and lo and behold, the effort more than paid off. (You know, such levels of determination bring a blue hedgehog to mind...)

And that’s just the intended vision for the main hallway! We haven’t touched the other rooms yet! (Since a castle would have quite a lot of rooms, it goes without saying that for the sake of keeping this post from going even longer, we won’t be covering literally every single room... just the most important and/or most noteworthy ones. :o)

The bathroom can be described as a mix between the two examples below, combining the semi-medieval build of the former with the sky blue palette and general relaxing style of the latter.

Though that said, while the bath remains there for any guests to use, Trudy personally uses a shower since it’s more convenient for someone with her condition.

The kitchen (or as Sonic likes to call it, “the palace of chili dog magic”) mostly comes in cool browns and blacks, and its intended appearance is probably one of the more obvious combinations of old-timey and modern. It also has a slightly country aesthetic compared to the other rooms, because ha ha, horses, geddit.

The greenhouse at the back brings back the heavy amounts of green (well duh, the clue’s in the name, isn’t it?), while also providing contrast with the whiteness of the structure and architecture. Complete with giant arched windows, because of course.

And the segue point between the greenhouse and the rest of the castle looks something along these lines, at least with the way the building itself connects.

Even the chambers underneath the castle manage to look classy and clean. And just as well, since it’s where Tails parks the Tornado for the remainder of his time in Viridonia, once he FINALLY remembers to get it off the Lime Shore beach...

You know another benefit of such a spacious area? You get to turn it into a makeshift workshop for all your gadget needs, Tornado-related or otherwise. I’m sure that won’t come in handy at some point...

The guest bedroom is one of the most curious rooms of the lot, because even though it’s as nice and tidy as you’d expect, it’s also rather... muted compared to everywhere else. Perhaps Trudy felt no need to modify it further in any specific way, since no one had ever bothered to stop by anyway... until you-know-who and the gang.

And we can’t forget to mention our fair equine’s OWN bedroom now, can we? Her bedroom opts for darker colours, yet no less therapeutic, which includes the canopy bed that she rests in. You can actually see the general idea with the bedroom (and the outside of the castle for that matter) for yourself, in the Dame of the Daisy mini-comic, courtesy of my awesome friend @benignmilitancy.

Likewise, although this shot is currently incomplete (don’t worry, Benign is fine with me using it :P), meaning some details haven’t been added yet, you can also get a basic idea of how the balcony is supposed to look here, along with the complimentary view of Viridonia’s oceans.

So what kind of music would befit Trudy’s castle, you may ask? Well, taking every detail into account, we would need something that goes for that perfect mix of adventure, wonder, warmth... and a faint hint of sadness lurking beneath. Something that gets all four across, but not in a generic, run-of-the-mill orchestra sort of way. Something a little more ambient and down-to-earth, with a more unique and specific kind of intimacy. Something like...

youtube

This would apply for when you’re inside, mind you. Outside the castle, the surrounding forest would have a theme of its own, though it would share that similar combination of melancholic friendliness. So for the outside, we would go with something more like...

youtube

Overall, the idea behind Trudy’s castle - aside from being her residence and looking enviously pretty - is to add to Trudy’s own character. It’s said that one’s home can say a lot about a person, and I made sure that every room shared a consistent narrative when reading between the lines. They may differ in shape, and they may even differ in colour, but the story is kept consistent at all times. We know that our girl is elegant, we know that our girl has slightly antiquated tastes... and we know that until the arrival of Sonic and Co, our girl was extremely lonely, and isolated by her peers, to the point of staving off said loneliness and isolation by making the place as lavishly detailed as it is in the first place. And just as the stony exterior hides the more fanciful interior, so too is there more to Trudy herself than at first glance.

Besides, not counting Eggman’s endless list of tributes to himself, we don’t often see the characters’ homes in the games, do we? We’ve seen Angel Island for Knuckles, the Space Colony A.R.K. for Shadow, that shack belonging to the Chaotix in Heroes, a few pads of varying consistency depending on the game (Tails’ workship in SA1 VS his house in Battle)... but not much more than that. And what better contrast to Sonic being something of a nomad, than by Trudy living a place like this?

But we’re not done just yet. Last but not least, we can’t forget that mysterious cave hiding down below, where countless amounts of Ethereal Crystals can be found undisturbed... You can bet that such a place would be suitably attention grabbing.

Since the crystals themselves come in practically every shade of the rainbow and then some, the resulting combination - specifically their reflecting shine - ends up painting the cavern walls with just as much colour.

It may feel a tad surreal and almost alien, to the point of being a little intimidating for some, arguably. But you know in your heart of hearts that as long as Eggman isn’t in the equation, there is no need to be fearful. After all, Trudy knows it better than anyone else, and although the crystals and their properties may hail from unknown, possibly uncomfortable origins, the horse herself continues to use them for wholly benevolent purposes.

Such a cavern would deserve a theme of its own, no? We’ll need something that drives home the point that the power within has no inherent morality, and can only be as good or as evil as the person using them. So although Trudy’s own intentions are firmly on the side of good, we’ll also need an added touch of minor eeriness lingering in the background, to represent the overarching threat and subsequent implications of Eggman dipping his own hands into the metaphorical Ethereal well, on top of its already unexplained otherworldliness...

youtube

So yes, it’s quite a pleasant castle that Trudy has, eh?

But this isn’t the only castle that can be found in Viridonia...

Well, it used to be the only one of its kind on the island... until a certain doctor stopped by, decided to beat the horse at her own game, and create his own, darker counterpart in response... But we’ll get to that when we get to that, ho ho ho.

#Creating Viridonia #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fanfiction

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sparklyjojos · 4 years

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CARNIVAL DAY recaps [4/13]

Today’s recap: The secret of the Ryuuguu family, the Reverse Reasoning, and Black Rook.

[BOOK FOUR — CARNIVAL DAY]

[Yasha��s first-person narration ends here. We resume the chapter numbering from Carnival and go by single weeks again.]

TWENTY-SEVEN

08 Feb 1997 — 14 Feb 1997

STATUE OF LIBERTY

Half a year after the beginning of the Crime Olympics, when the clock strikes twelve and begins February 8th 1997, a massive series of explosions shakes the entire world, moving steadily through the time zones as every country meets midnight. Countless buildings are destroyed, falling glass shards glittering like crystals, which leads to the event later being called the Crystal Nightmare.

It’s estimated that 130,000 people died during the Crystal Nightmare, among them the S-detective Frau D, who was caught in a hospital explosion.

RISE sends a new message to the UN announcing that the Crystal Nightmare was done by their Invisible Soldiers, that it marks the beginning of the second half of the Crime Olympics, and that August 10th 1997 will be “an unforgettable day for humanity”, “the destined day”—Carnival Day.

When all this is happening, Hyouma is sitting in the Sanctuary trying to recount every shocking thing that has happened since he got here about two weeks ago.

Encountering Yakuma (?) with a surgically changed face. Meeting Nemu, Otohime, and even comatose Jounosuke (Black Rook? Ryuuou?). Men in black who look like the samurai detective Suzukaze Unomaru, the JDC guard Nakamoto Hiroya, and even Hyouma’s old flame Takabe Yuu. Six out of seven S-detectives allegedly being those “Rainbow Sophists” with colorful masks, even Ajiro Souji. Several leaders of the world being RISE’s pawns.

Then that Shangri-la place was found, then the bloody equator happened... Hyouma is overwhelmed by everything, but decides he can’t give up before solving at least some of the baffling mysteries around.

They’re allowed to move freely through a big part of the Sanctuary, so Hyouma walks around and investigates. The giant submarine must be about 30 meters wide and 350 meters long (good thing there are automatic walkways everywhere). Plates by the rooms are all in Japanese. The Sanctuary has three levels, Heaven, Earth and Hell, with Hell being the uppermost. In the middle of the ship there’s a mysterious giant round pillar piercing through all three levels.

The bottom floor called Heaven has the docks, a round place with a fountain called Lebensborn, a completely dark room, a locked engine room, and the meeting room with the round table.

The Earth level is called the Morgue and is divided into four areas, Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. Hyouma counts 120 rooms in total, each named after a specific color [and the author actually spends over a page just naming all these colors]. The Rainbow Sophists including White and Black Rook live in rooms named after appropriate colors. The remaining quarters belong to all the men in black, as well as to Hyouma and other “guests”. Every room can be opened by scanning the occupant’s fingerprints.

The Hell level is mostly taken by Dragon’s Center, wrapped around the giant pillar and hosting a multitude of machines and monitors, maintained by workers in strange silver suits and full helmets who ignore all attempts at conversation. There’s also a data room / library filled with bookcases, a surgery (locked), cold storage (locked), laundry room (locked), something called the Cosmic Room (very locked), and some kind of a big round depression in the floor with “circle mystery” written on the floor, a hatch in the ceiling above it.

Hyouma learns which rooms belong to Nemu and Otohime (“magenta” and “royal purple”, Hyouma’s own color is “shocking pink”, thank all that’s holy that the rooms themselves aren’t actually painted those colors). Knocking on the door can’t be heard from inside the rooms, so the only way to get in contact with the others is to wait outside until they happen to go out. No one else is walking around in the empty hallways.

The rooms all have the same layout and are completely dark aside from a glowing monitor. It serves as a TV and can be used to order food, clothes and other necessary items, which are delivered through a conveyor belt system that must be looping around all the rooms inside the walls. The entire Sanctuary apparently works using an AI system called LA.

On February 8th, White gets Hyouma to go with him to that “circle mystery” so they can visit RISE’s headquarters, the Moonbow Palace. Together they walk on top of an elevator platform, which is lifted up (so that’s what the hatch was for) through a shaft glowing with all colors of the rainbow. As soon as the elevator stops, Hyouma looks around the place and recognizes it with a feeling of dread.

The Moonbow Palace looks like Ryuuguujou.

TWENTY-EIGHT

15 Feb 1997 — 21 Feb 1997

VENICE

While the Moonbow Palace looks like the Ryuuguu family’s own house, there’s no entrance where there should be one, the entire place is pretty dark and empty, and no servants or staff can be seen.

In the room located where Jounosuke’s bedroom would be, deeply sleeping Jounosuke is lying in the bed in his usual checkered pajamas. Otohime and Nemu are sitting by his side. There are also the three Dots who look like Unomaru, Nakamoto and Yuu.

Hyouma asks sharply where Yakuma is, as he hasn’t shown up ever since Hyouma’s first day in the Sanctuary. White gives him a look through the eyeholes of his mask and says only that “Yakuma Suzume is no longer here”, because “his role has ended”.

White explains that it should already be obvious from how the Moonbow Palace looks, but there is a deep connection between RISE and the Ryuuguu family. Otohime coldly guesses what he’s trying to say—that RISE ordered her family to build Ryuuguujou designed after the Moonbow Palace. White confirms that and states that both of Otohime’s parents, Kintarou and Kaguya, are members of RISE.

Otohime accepts the news with her usual thoughtful calmness. Nemu denies the truth fervently. Hyouma doesn’t really know what to think, as he doesn’t even know the people in question (he only heard that they travel for the better part of the year), so he just notices out loud that they have weird names, like folk tales characters.

White explains that the Ryuuguus are descended from a man called Ryuuguu Tarou (and later Ryuuguu Momotarou), an Edo period fisherman who had some strange experiences in his life and became the model for all those folk tales heroes. Ever since then, all the Ryuuguu men were connected to RISE, and all would be given names containing “tarou”—all but Jounosuke. The full name “Ryuuguu Jounosuke” means “the one who protects Ryuuguujou” and symbolizes his role as a top executive in RISE’s grand plan.

All legends have a true point of origin. Many strange places from old folktales—the legendary Dragon Palace that Urashima Tarou found, the Demon Island that Momotarou visited, the Moon that Princess Kaguya returned to—were actually based on the Moonbow Palace. The tales grew around the true story of Ryuuguu Tarou visiting RISE’s base. And actually, the family name Ryuuguu was first given to them by RISE.

After delivering all these shocking news, White leaves them.

Hyouma and Nemu are both extremely upset by the news, but Otohime gets them to calmly think everything through. She’s sure that the person sleeping next to them is Jounosuke, but then who was that person who died in the plane crash? There might be imposters involved.

The three Dots who look like Unomaru, Nakamoto and Yuu may not really be the people they know, or maybe they really are their friends, but under some sort of mind control. Perhaps Yuu didn’t actually die all those years ago.

When they mention Unomaru, they realize that the giant underwater something that hit the ship near the Cape of Good Hope may have been the Sanctuary. If so, it would be easy for RISE to grab Unomaru from the sinking ship.

Who was that person who died in the plane crash? Christmas and Jouka both noticed a change in Jounosuke’s behaviour after he recovered from Alive, but apparently not enough to be too concerned. Jouka even got engaged with him and confirmed in a phone call with Otohime that yes, this definitely was Ryuuguu Jounosuke.

Why on earth would Jounosuke be a “top executive of RISE” like White claimed? Otohime can accept the possibility of her parents being involved, seeing as they spend most of their time away from home, but Jounosuke helping lead a terrorist organization sounds like a bad joke.

Then there’s that other thing White told them. About how when Jounosuke is woken from his slumber, he will “become Black Rook”, but if he’s not woken up, the entire humanity will be doomed. They still don’t know what exactly that means, but it feels like White is giving them a false choice, considering that it’s probably him that can wake up Jounosuke—if we assume RISE created Alive, they would likely have a cure on hand.

They probably shouldn’t trust anything they’re told. While those six Rainbow Sophists seemed to be the famous S-detectives, their faces were hidden at all times, so perhaps they were someone completely different. Yellow Bishop spoke in Ajiro’s voice, but maybe this too was just a trick.

Hyouma remembers what he’s just heard on the news this morning (when rushing out to meet White, so he didn’t catch a lot of info): the S-detective Frau D died last night in a hospital explosion. If he really was one of the Rainbow Sophists, RISE must have faked his death.

Nemu says slowly that she’s still not sure what’s going on, but one of the hypotheses her fuzzy reasoning brought her is that the masked S-detectives are real. She doesn’t know how to explain Frau D’s death away, but she knows that it’d be strange if the same improbable thing—the murder of an S-detective—just randomly happened more than one time within twenty-four hours.

Hyouma hasn’t heard the news yet, so he recounts all the S-detectives aloud, trying to figure out who died, and only realizes the horrible truth from the heavy silence and the others’ faces. But it can’t be possible. There’s no way that Otohime and Nemu especially would be acting so calm if that person died... right?

But the two women confirm his worst suspicion: the media announced that Tsukumo Juku had been murdered.

Hyouma just can’t wrap his head around this fact. It feels like the main character of a long series of novels died pointlessly in the middle of a new installment.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” Nemu says. “I don’t think that Juku was killed. I believe Otohime feels the same as me. It’s true that they announced Juku had been murdered, but you can’t be sure about anything these days. It doesn’t have to mean that he’s really gone.”

Nemu explains what she means. The newest Billion Killer case (that Hyouma hasn’t heard about either) targeted the Statue of Liberty and killed among others the S-detective Ronely Queen and JDC’s Ushiwaka Gigolo. It’s strange that so many splendid detectives—Frau D, Juku, Queen, Ushiwaka—would all go down so easily around the same time. Nemu believes that they might still be alive somewhere, though she isn’t sure if that’s not her own desperate hope speaking here and less her fuzzy reasoning. This hope is the basis for her claim that the six Rainbow Sophists might be the real S-detectives, and that some of them faked their deaths to hide from the outside world. Juku may have done the same thing to move more freely behind the scenes.

Nemu has some proof for her reasoning; the person who brought her to the Sanctuary was unmistakably the real Lemuria Sullivan.

TWENTY-NINE

22 Feb 1997 — 28 Feb 1997

DESERT PIT

After the Swan Knight case, Nemu saw a giant peach that on closer inspection turned out to be a dolphin-like submarine. A masked person in red came out, grabbed her and pulled her inside. Once the submarine was on its way somewhere, the person removed his mask and revealed himself as the missing S-detective Lemuria Sullivan, the one Nemu had been searching for this entire time. Like in the photos, he had sunken blue eyes, a shaved head and the vague atmosphere of a cold-blooded killer.

Sullivan brought her to the Sanctuary, where she met Otohime and was told by her about the sleeping Jounosuke. Otohime had previously fled her home guided by Sullivan, who had told her that she had to comply with their demands in order for Jounosuke to survive.

Nemu and Otohime talked about what they knew about Lemuria Sullivan’s past.

Back when Lemuria Sullivan had been active in the detective world, he was suspected of having ties to the Basque separatist group ETA, widely considered a terrorist organization (Sullivan was born in the Basque Country). That was never completely proven, but many other incidents related to Lemuria were revealed.

Lemuria Sullivan used Reverse Reasoning. Cases are usually resolved by reconstructing past events, but Lemuria did the opposite; he would know the culprit before the crime even occurred. To explain how it worked, let’s look at a hypothetical bank robbery:

1) A car stops in front of a bank, the engine still running. 2) Masked men with guns come out. 3) There are obvious shots and screams.

Many people would only fully realize and confirm what’s going on by the time of the event number three or number two. Those with great insight or paranoia could guess a robbery is about to happen during the event number one.

Lemuria Sullivan would know what was going to happen by the time of the event number zero. Just by observing the bank’s location, surroundings and guests, he would know several days earlier that a robbery would soon occur.

Reverse Reasoning had its flaws. The knowledge it gave was pretty vague, like prophecies or clues in a mystery novel, and could be interpreted in different ways. If a criminal’s plan was exposed before the incident, they would simply change those plans and choose another day, so it felt like the only point of exposing future crimes early was just delaying things. The not-yet-criminal could even accuse Sullivan of baseless slander.

Let’s talk about the difference between “prophecies” and “prior knowledge”. Imagine a prophet predicts their loved one is about to get injured in an accident. If they keep quiet, the accident happens as predicted, and so the prophecy hidden in the prophet’s head is fulfilled. If the loved one is warned, then even if they get into the accident, maybe they will be more careful and get away unscathed—then a weird paradox occurs, the prophecy being inaccurate specifically because it was accurate. Basically, a “prophecy” ceases to also be certain “prior knowledge” the moment it’s spoken out loud and so no prophet is 100% accurate. Looking at just the end result of Sullivan’s ability, it can look like “prophesying”, but his additional outstanding logical reasoning made it closer to “prior knowledge”.

Lemuria Sullivan was suspected of using his reverse reasoning to find people who planned crimes and blackmail them, getting money in exchange for not telling anyone about what he predicted. He would also sell them instructions on how to design crimes that his fellow detectives would have trouble solving.

In the end, no irrefutable evidence was found and Sullivan kept denying everything. Still, the investigation team kept rising new suspicions, so in the end Lemuria Sullivan became the first S-detective in history to be forever removed from DOLL.

Detective is a responsible job that many lives hinge on. You could say detectives are similar to clergy in a way; after they’re accomplished enough to become great detectives, they receive a lot of trust and love from people, which goes along with many responsibilities. Someone like Sullivan getting involved in crime would mean that the trust of people towards all great detectives—the reputation that DOLL has painstakingly built up over many years—would be irreparably damaged. Even the S-detectives would no longer be perceived like superhuman beings, but as normal, weak, flawed people. The only way to avoid it was to remove Sullivan before the situation got out of hand.

...and that was all that Otohime and Nemu knew about him.

Otohime had had a few occasions to talk with Sullivan in the Sanctuary and noticed the strange way he talked. Instead of “you”, he would use phrases like “that woman” or “that man” (eg. “I’m taking that woman to the Sanctuary” meant “I’m taking you to the Sanctuary”). Instead of a normal first person pronoun he used “this person”. Otohime theorized that this strange way of speaking was connected to Sullivan’s ability. Being more aware of the passage of time than anyone else meant he understood how everyone’s current identity is instantly turning into a past one—there’s no unchanging “I” or “you”—and so he used more impersonal and “objective” words.

Another strange thing about Sullivan was that he spoke perfect Japanese, despite all available sources claiming he didn’t know the language at all a few years ago.

Now that this digression is done, let us go back to the present.

On February 8th, the head of the Statue of Liberty is suddenly no longer on its neck, and hits the ground resulting in nineteen casualties. A skull is found like always. Since the Crystal Nightmare has just happened, the media don’t really focus on the Statue for now.

On February 15th, a loud rumbling noise comes from St Mark’s Clocktower in Venice, cracks run through its walls, and the tower collapses killing many people inside. Again the skull of the Billion Killer points to the culprit.

So many cases and crimes are plaguing the world that it’s almost impossible to keep track of what happened where, when, how, in which week of the Crime Olympics. The varying speed of information reaching mass media doesn’t help. Juku died before Frau D and Ronely Queen, but his death was the last to be publicly announced. As if three dead S-detectives weren’t enough, Firannu Meirunesia is then killed in the Billion Killer case in Venice. Things are looking worse and worse for the world.

On February 22nd, a new Billion Killer case happens in the Republic of Zaire, but the skull takes some time to be found.

THIRTY

01 Mar 1997 — 07 Mar 1997

PYRAMID OF THE SUN

After less than a day spent in the Moonbow Palace, Otohime and the rest are led back to the Sanctuary.

Otohime feels horrible being confined to the dark, closed space of the Sanctuary for so long. It’s true that she’s never been the one to go outside her house a lot, especially after the accident left her paraplegic, but back home she still had the choice to go outside available.

After the accident Otohime chose to live in seclusion of her home, a lifestyle possible thanks to her family’s fortune. She willingly isolated herself from the outside world. And yet—now that she was forbidden from leaving the Sanctuary, she wanted to go out.

No human has yet managed to leave Earth (or at least not go very far), but humanity somehow didn’t feel confined to it. Perhaps the scale was too large to notice and comprehend it. Perhaps when Otohime had been living secluded in Ryuuguujou, she also ignored the scary truth of confinement.

She spends most of the time reading through the Sanctuary’s book collection. The library has quite a lot of books of all kinds, though sadly many are not reachable for someone who can’t climb the ladders. The books are written in many different languages, but a good one third is in Japanese. It seems strange, just like all the room plates being written in their language. Why would a worldwide terrorist organization have everything in Japanese? If those Rainbow Sophists really are S-detectives who come from different countries, how can every single one speak perfect natural-sounding Japanese?

Hyouma actually pointed this out loud once, and White responded that they weren’t actually speaking Japanese, but the “R language”. The only explanation Otohime can think of is that this “R language” must be only marginally different from Japanese, but she can’t figure out where that difference lies.

Otohime feels lost. She can’t deny the possibility that her parents really are cooperating with terrorists, can’t tell if those three Dots are the people they know or not—but she can’t possibly accept that Jounosuke is a top executive of RISE.

Before they left the Moonbow Palace, White asked them for their final decision, so of course they chose the only possible option—to wake Jounosuke and avoid the destruction of humanity.

When he was finally woken up with an injection and Otohime called his name, the man with the face of her brother first nodded towards White with approval, then looked at Otohime with cold uncaring eyes of a stranger.

“My name is not Ryuuguu Jounosuke,” he said. “I am the Sanctuary’s Master, Black Rook—Ryuuou.”

[>>>NEXT PART>>]

#sparkly reads carnival day #maijo and jdc stuff

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kiruuuuu · 4 years

Text

Thanks to these two wonderful anons, I finally wrote more recruitverse! Thank you both :) 💗 In this one, they meet Shay’s girlfriend... and as usual, chaos is involved. (Rating T, humour + a whole lot of pining, ~5.1k words)

Meet my recruits! Find the other #recruitverse pieces under the tag or here on my masterpost 💙

Jojo has never seen Ivan Ivanovic this delighted. There are a few things which spark a grim smile, like being complimented on an exercise well done, or offering him food he adores, but nothing so far has managed to plaster a grin this wide and persistent on his stoic Russian face. His joy is contagious, and both Gian and Jojo himself mirror his expression with glee in between silent pointing and suppressed giggles. Even the blasted snake curled up in its tank seems to smile.

On top of Valenti’s forehead, Jojo’s phone comes alive with an alarmingly loud buzz, nearly toppling the group of chess pieces gathered on the display. The other three freeze comically, Ivan mid-step and his foot left hovering uselessly, Gian about to balance a ruler on the Frenchman’s toes and Jojo with his hands in his pockets, looking for his wallet. A few seconds pass. Nothing happens.

Valenti continues to sleep peacefully.

It’s Ivan who breaks out into quiet laughter, slight hysteria colouring his relief, and then they all have to hold on to something to not burst out into Frenchman-waking guffawing. They’re not even sure why Valenti is sleeping like the dead, but they sure as hell are taking advantage. He’s showcasing several stacks of various paraphernalia on all his body parts, the highlight being a literal chair precariously resting on his limbs. Jojo went where the other two didn’t dare and placed one of Shay’s ubiquitous containers of glitter on his friend’s crotch – closed, of course – and at this point they’re struggling to even procure more items to add to the impressive piles.

As Jojo gingerly places his opened wallet on top of one of Gian’s boots, Ivan Ivanovic, the madman himself, begins building a house of cards on the chair’s seat. Now and then, they whisper ideas back and forth and struggle to keep quiet in between the hare-brained suggestions – we could get Ying, was Jojo’s contribution, and Gian: I would like to try to put as many socks on him as possible. Eventually, it became absurd, with ‘an online coupon’, ‘a pottery course’ and ‘a trip to Italy’ marking the point where they had to stop or risk getting too loud.

A bag of water, Shay might’ve suggested, or if we distribute the weight equally, I bet we could put Dante’s tank on him.

But he’s not here, and Jojo isn’t even too sad about this fact. He’s been spending quality time with the other three, learning chess from Valenti, exercising with Ivan, discussing books from their childhood with Gian – they’re a friend group, after all, so he enjoys time alone with any of the four. Besides, when they get going, Shay’s absence is hardly noticeable anyway; Valenti’s and Jojo’s ideas are ridiculous enough and their motivation to set them in motion stronger than Ivan’s silence and Gian’s gentle disapproval. They don’t need him.

Which isn’t at all to say that he’s glad Shay has been frequently meeting up with his girlfriend. Of course not, Shay is wonderful – as wonderful as a good friend can be, in any case. Yet he’s not necessary for their group dynamic. Jojo can wait until the end of the day to share gossip and random events with him, sure. Shay isn’t the only thing that keeps him going each day. He’s not the first person he thinks about after waking up, though he’s usually the first to hear about Jojo’s convoluted dreams, and they usually text a little before drifting off to sleep as to not disturb the others. Even so, he’s not all Jojo can think about. He’s a big oaf, likeable yet with decidedly more stupid moments than any of them, gullible to a fault, easily entertained by pretty much anything – and now he remembers how Shay realised that the yellow flower called dandelion and the fuzzy one he called blowball are one and the same plant, and how amazed he continued to be by this fact for days and then Jojo told him that ‘dandy’ was derived from it as they, like the flower, tended to change their outfits drastically, and Shay actually believed him and excitedly told his sister who was merciful enough -

Gian is looking at him. Maybe because he’s been motionlessly staring at nothing again and Jesus fuck this is a recently acquired habit he could do without.

I don’t even want that much, he thinks and knows it’s untrue, he’s asking for a whole lot without finding the words and should move on. He should. He really, really should.

With a bang, the door to their room flies open, causing their heads to snap towards the two people in the doorway: Shay is unmistakeable, beaming like he won the lottery, and judging by his companion, he did. Brittany is by his side, close enough to touch and displaying a friendly, inviting smile which – to Jojo – looks fake. He recognises her from the endless photos Shay showed him, though she’s shorter in person, less attractive, even plain. If she didn’t use photoshop outright, she must’ve applied a beauty filter of sorts to maybe move her eyes closer together or reduce the size of her nose. Like this, Jojo just can’t see the appeal.

“Howya lads”, Shay addresses them, evidently not having noticed the snoozing Valenti, “this is Brit. What are we doing?”

We. Jojo suppresses a scoff.

Before any of them get a chance to react, there’s movement on top of the bunk bed they’re surrounding, sparking instant panic: Valenti is waking up.

As soon as the Frenchman notices the raccoon socks dangling right in front of his face, he jerks in surprise and sets a domino effect in motion: the chair topples, dragging Jojo’s and Gian’s phones as well as the old-fashioned wall clock they stole from outside with it, and while Ivan skilfully snatches the chair in mid-air before it can crash into Dante’s tank, the clock shatters on the floor (but at least breaking the phones’ fall), prompting another twitch from Valenti and before they can actively think about it, Jojo and Gian are suddenly scrambling to catch the cascade of assorted objects toppling down.

Ivan Ivanovic manages to prevent another catastrophe by grabbing the container of glitter with his free hand, making all of them breathe a sigh of relief.

There’s a small silence once everything has either gone splat on the ground or been cradled safely in their arms. Confusedly, Valenti eyes the mess either still in his bed, in Ivan’s, Gian’s and Jojo’s hands, or littered on the floor. “Are you serious?”, he mutters and yawns heartily. Then, after spotting something in particular: “You used your phones? Please tell me you at least took pictures beforehand.”

“We are no amateurs”, Ivan shoots back and nods to where his smartphone is sticking out of his pocket. “Of course we take pictures.”

“Can I see?”, Brittany bursts out excitedly. She looks way too entertained anyway, as if they’d orchestrated this chaos purely for her sake. “In college, stacking things on sleeping people was my favourite thing. Oh, and writing on them.”

“A classic”, the Russian agrees and readily pulls up his gallery after having set down the chair to show her, “I have photo of writing too somewhere.”

“Don’t show her that”, Valenti protests immediately. “You drew all over my chest, that’s not appropriate!”

“If my memory serves correctly, there was an instance of Shay exhibiting various pro-England slogans”, Gian joins the conversation now too, “proclaiming his undying admiration of the Queen, for example.”

“I told you they’re ruthless”, Shay dejectedly addresses the only woman among them, making her chuckle and quietly urge Ivan to show her said photos as well.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you lot!”, she erupts once more, apparently remembering where she is. “I’ve heard so much about all of you. Please call me Brit.”

And thus commences the general Fawning Over A Female. It’s a ritual Jojo has witnessed countless times in his life and as time progressed, it only became more sickening. Beginning with a funny introduction – nothing major, either a self-deprecating detail (I’m generally responsible for the trouble we end up in) or an allusion to an anecdote (I threw him over fence, don’t know if you have heard story) –, then followed up by desperately trying to include her into the group (Shay briefly mentioned a potential interest in video games, would you be willing to dare an attempt at playing some time soon?). Her laughter is suddenly more contagious than the plague, and there’s no doubt she’s drinking in all this attention lavished onto her like an alcoholic.

The lack of girls among the Rainbow recruits must’ve gotten to them. Even Ivan Ivanovic is being courteous, there’s no other word for it. Boot-licking maybe. If you can even call knock-off Uggs boots. Valenti is going cross-eyed with how much he’s trying not to ogle her and even Gian of all people seems dead set on winning her over.

Pitiful.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Jojo”, he interrupts her before she can get the words out (and it took her long enough to turn to him, the only guy in the room not beaming at her like a lunatic), “and I got a mess to clean up.” With that, he turns away to pick up the shit off the floor which Valenti kicked everywhere. He’s not known for tidying up, especially not voluntarily, but no one bats an eye.

After all, he’s not known for flirting with girls, either.

Brit hardly counts as a woman; with her freakishly large eyes, overdone expressions and exuberant behaviour, she’s infantile. Pretty? Maybe. Perhaps under all that make-up not so much. But pretty enough to melt his friends’ brains. She’s delighted over that stupid snake and pretends like nothing’s more interesting than hearing all about Valenti’s piano lessons, and they’re eating it up as if she was a date they snagged despite never expecting to.

Then, all of a sudden, something dawns on him. Something which has him freeze instantly and turn back to the giggling posse.

“How did you get in?”, he asks loudly, not bothering to apologise to an irritated-looking Valenti for talking over him.

Abruptly, the noise dies down. They get what he’s asking – except for Shay, whose grey cells might’ve been sucked out of him by this doll and dear fucking God, that’s a mental image for which Jojo only has himself to blame. “She parked outside and we walked in”, Shay clarifies, pointing in a seemingly random direction. “By the skip, you know. Why?”

Gian looks positively horrified. “They – they merely allowed you entry?”

The happy couple exchanges a glance, nonplussed. “Yeah? I mean, they know me.”

“What did you say you worked as? A waitress?”, Jojo can’t help but ask with a sickly sweet smile. “Shay, you fucking moron, you brought a waitress into an SAS base. She’s a civ!”

“Oh, is that what this is?”, Brittany clarifies cheerfully. “I was wondering about all the security.”

Jojo’s no longer wondering why these two airheads ended up together. By now, he’s only clueless as to how they found each other at all with how much they’re bumbling through life. “Yeah, you gotta go. Your man’s getting eviscerated if they find you.”

Despite the shocked faces around her, she’s still perky. “Ah, it’s not going to be that bad.”

Valenti pulls a face which Jojo feels in his guts. “If you think that, you can’t be very aware of our reputation.”

And this is when they suddenly notice boots stomping down the hall. Familiar boots. On the way to their room.

“Goodbye cruel yet magnificent world”, Gian mutters, already accepted his fate, whereas Shay and Jojo exchange a single glance – enough to ensure they’re on the same page. Which hurts. Despite all the mayhem and impending doom, Jojo has the brain capacity left to realise he’s never been this in tune with anyone else he’s ever met.

They grab the nearest blanket – Valenti’s, causing even more items to topple to the floor – and hold it up in front of Brit and Ivan, trapping them between two bunk beds yet shielding them from the door. Well, to be exact, it’s only Brittany who can’t be spotted anymore. Ivan’s eyes are still peeking over the edge.

Sledge barges in without so much as a knock (which is fair enough as it’d only give them more time to hide any evidence), and finding himself in front of five recruits staring at him, unmoving, doesn’t seem to quell his suspicions. Oddly enough. “Which one of you clogged the showers?”, he barks as a greeting and Jojo doesn’t even get that usual pang of I wonder if he orders Maestro around like this at home. He doesn’t know when the Scot’s broad frame became less attractive than gangly limbs and a crooked grin.

“First of all, I find it very disrespectful to assume it was one of us”, Valenti starts with as much indignation as he can muster while nearly shaking in his boots, “you can’t just default to us every time something goes wrong, it’s unfair and -”

“Shut up, Jean.” The Frenchman’s mouth snaps shut. “Who was it?” Sheepishly, Gian, Jojo and Valenti raise their hands. “Bloody knew it. If it’s not in mint condition by supper, you won’t be getting any. Now drop the blanket and let me see what else you broke.”

“Ivan’s indecent”, Shay quickly butts in, earning himself a withering glare. There’s movement now, and instead of standing stock still, Brit is sliding under one of the beds while trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Come on. Let me see, lads.” They manage to dodge Sledge’s hands until he eventually rips the duvet out of theirs to face the explosion caused by Valenti’s awakening earlier. The Scot eyes the mess suspiciously. “That’s it?”

“I really was indecent”, Ivan replies, deadpan. “We were comparing. Would you like to -”

Sledge’s face contorts in vague horror. “God no. I’ve heard enough. I better not catch any of you causing more trouble for a week, there’s only so much nonsense I’m willing to take.”

With that, he storms off, leaving them to gather around an extremely dusty-looking Brit with cobwebs in her glossy brown hair. Her muted expression soothes something in Jojo.

“Now we just have to get you out of here and we’re good”, Shay announces, sounding hopeful and pointedly ignoring the disbelieving looks of his friends. “Got any ideas, lads?”

The Frenchman is the only one looking contemplative instead of bleak. “I might have one.”

“Do we, uh”, Valenti begins hesitantly, fidgeting when attentive eyes shift over to him, “do we have blueprints of Hereford? Somewhere? Just out of curiosity? Maybe you’ve heard of a secret passageway to the Outside? A path theoretically possible but no one dares to use it?”

Jäger examines them, visibly fighting a smile. They approached the German engineer for no other reason than his involvement in their highly successful weapon of Christ-mass destruction and the fact that he didn’t rat them out, quite the opposite. They’ve discussed alternatives, a conversation Brittany followed with increasing entertainment, and decided against Smoke and Mute despite their love for mischief and support for anything threatening Sledge’s and Thatcher’s composure: the two are simply too unreliable and would indubitably sell them out for a Curly Wurly. There’s no love lost between any recruit and most of Rainbow, and the operators who do actually care about them are the ones who’d chastise them for causing any kind of trouble.

So they’ve snuck into the workshop, hoping their usual invisibility works in their favour.

“Gustave told me not to interact with you five anymore”, Jäger replies, though his lowered voice implies the opposite. “But you seem very polite. And reasonably desperate. Why do you ask?”

“We might be wanting to smuggle something out”, Jojo explains. It’s odd to talk to his fellow countryman in English and not his mother tongue, but he vividly remembers the previous time he tried to converse with Bandit in German. If he’d thought the man’s swearing and threats couldn’t get any worse than what he produces in English, he was sorely mistaken.

“Like what?”

Girlfriends, Jojo thinks. “Live cargo?”, he offers. Shay pulls a face.

“Oh. Did you adopt a stray animal?”

When he makes a pensive expression, he earns an elbow between his ribs. “Listen. We can’t talk about it. Can you help us?”

“Not without seriously upsetting my boyfriend, no. I’m already on thin ice after I accidentally helped Dom spike the afternoon coffee.”

That’s fair enough, thinks Jojo. So maybe they need something more… straightforward. He suddenly has an idea.

“Is it theoretically possible to use a trebuchet to catapult someone?”, Jojo wants to know interestedly and almost regrets asking the moment Mira’s face lights up.

“Of course! Do you have one at the ready or would you need to construct one first?”

The five of them exchange uncertain glances, so the Spaniard enthusiastically begins sketching out all the materials needed, complete with dimensions and tools. In fact, it’s a tad concerning how easily she outlines all the necessary steps and has Jojo wonder about her past – this sort of thing seems to come naturally to her. Engrossed, they follow her instructions with nods and mental notes and eventually accept the several sheets of construction paper with elaborate thanks. Consulting her was Jojo’s idea and he based it on Mira’s helpfulness and general spirit when it came to building… anything, really.

“Now have fun and don’t be afraid to use your hands. Making things is incredibly rewarding. Good luck!” It doesn’t seem to bother her that she can’t even remember their names as she’s too focused on a task well done. Before they can turn around, however, she stops them with a last afterthought: “Wait – you didn’t need the person to survive being launched, did you?”

Before Shay even has the opportunity to get more upset than he already is, Ivan speaks up: “Never mind. I have idea.”

Kapkan is sharpening a knife, with Fuze next to him cleaning a gun. The two Russians raised their gazes the moment they stepped outside and haven’t lowered them since, favouring a cold hard stare to intimidate over inspecting their own handiwork, which admittedly ends up being flawless despite the lack of attention. Otherwise, the two of them are unmoving.

Four of their expressions basically scream this is the worst fucking idea and only Ivan Ivanovic seems at ease. He nods curtly as a greeting and receives likewise, but when the rest of them attempt an equally cool gesture, they’re scrutinised even more closely as a result. Jojo is genuinely anxious; being in the same room as any other Spetsnaz always causes an uncomfortable itching just below his skin. Except for Ivan, of course.

“Why are we here again?”, Valenti whispers while trying to hide behind Shay, and winces when Kapkan’s eyes flick over to him.

“Guard on entry”, Ivan says, clearly not beating around the bush, “who is it today?”

The two operatives glance at each other. “Perkins”, Fuze replies, and Kapkan adds: “Pain in the ass. Why?”

“He could have accident. Two minutes.”

Holy fucking shit. Jojo feels all colour drain from his cheeks.

“Yes, he could have”, Kapkan concurs. “But it would cause a lot of attention. Potentially. Sounds like it’s not worth it.”

“It is”, Ivan emphasises and that’s the moment Valenti finally snaps out of his disbelieving stupor and drags the Russian away while muttering what could be either French swearwords or a bread recipe, Jojo isn’t sure.

“Thanks anyway!”, he yells over his shoulder as he quickly follows the others, their ranks breaking down more with every passing second. “No hard feelings! We won’t tell!”

“I cannot shake the feeling that this has ensured our demise”, Gian mumbles and Shay, just as pale as Jojo feels, simply nods.

“To be honest, I don’t mind spending some more time with this cutie”, Brittany waves off Shay’s concern the moment they’re back in their room. “I’ve never even touched a snake and Dante is a real gentleman, so don’t worry about me.”

“Are you out of your mind?”, Valenti hisses in the background, audibly furious. “No matter whether Perkins is a piece of shit, he’s SAS and we’d be dead meat!”

“They would have tied together shoelaces”, Ivan unsuccessfully tries to appease him. “Or something like it. Better idea than hoping Hereford is Hogwarts, with secret tunnel.”

The Frenchman turns a lovely shade of dark red which almost matches his scarf. “Really? You call involving the Russian mob a better idea? At least I didn’t try to turn her into ammunition!”

“Hey, no need to lash out just because you didn’t get your letter when you turned ten”, Jojo chimes in, feeling his own annoyance spike.

“My suggestion was reasonable at least and wouldn’t have ended with her splattering into giblets.”

Thankfully, Gian steps in before the two of them can get into yet another shouting match: “May I propose the simple yet effective art of social engineering?”

Oh. This sounds like it could actually go somewhere.

“But we already talked to Jäger”, Shay speaks up, confused, and Jojo doesn’t know whether to hug or laugh at him.

“A tried and tested example of this involves carrying a ladder into various establishments”, Gian explains. “The key is to seem so average, everyone else’s eyes glide right past.”

Shay is still frowning. “Don’t call her average.”

“Darling -”, Jojo begins to set him straight, but is interrupted by Brit: “No, he just wants me to carry a ladder.”

It’s immensely satisfying to have Ivan raise an eyebrow and then, very quietly, murmur into Jojo’s general direction: “Match made in a very chaotic heaven.”

“Fairly sure we can find a recruit’s uniform that fits her”, Valenti picks up Gian’s idea and has the happy couple react with an intrigued ohh.

“Doesn’t look too bad”, Jojo decides as he inspects the sixth recruit in their group. Brit is noticeably too thin and the make-up peeking out through the holes in the balaclava aren’t reassuring, but she might just pass. “Are you a decent liar?”

“About as good as I am”, Shay replies in her stead, prompting the others to exchange glances clearly spelling out we’re doomed.

“In that case, just don’t talk. Leave it to us. If you’d be forced to answer, maybe pretend you don’t understand English.”

“Why can’t I be mute?”, she asks, making Shay shake his head.

“He’s much taller than you are, Brit, that would never work.”

Bless him. To hell and back. This is the same guy Jojo trusts with his life, and he knows Shay would never let him down in a mission. Yet he’s so child-like in the most charming way, wide-eyed and curious, gullible and excitable. And, at times, really really dim. Not that it matters as their continued survival rests in his girlfriend’s hands right now, and she still doesn’t seem to have grasped the severity of the situation. While Jojo isn’t sure of the repercussions to inviting a civ unannounced, they can’t be great, especially with their history of either demolishing or disrespecting anything that’s not nailed down (and even some of what actually is).

Trying to appear nonchalant, they saunter through the corridor like they belong, naturally crowding around Brittany so it’s less obvious she has no idea where she’s going and hoping they don’t meet too many eagle-eyed operators. Female recruits are few and far between, so it’s indeed possible someone like Montagne or Doc, who interact with them often enough, would raise an eyebrow.

Fortunately, the first person they run into is Rook. Not only is he well-known for being sociable and friendly, he’s also comfortable with English and French only. Brit can easily claim being Russian and avoid any questioning with a thick accent.

“Hey, guys”, Rook greets them cheerfully. “Who’s your extra? A new recruit?”

“Yes, but unfortunately her English skills aren’t -”, Gian begins just as the masked woman blurts out: “Ah oui, pardonnez-moi, je suis française.”

Oh.

Well.

The panic in her eyes is visible as Rook, delighted, starts babbling to her in rapid French before Valenti replies with a few curt sentences and then drags her with him accompanied by excuses as loud as they are insincere.

So far, the plan is working beautifully.

“I’ve never met an American who could speak French!”, Brittany whispers in her own defence as they leave the building. “I thought it was a safe bet.”

“You have something more exotic?”, Ivan wants to know. They’re not far from the gate now, with a bit of luck they’ll make it.

And then they’re greeted by another familiar voice, a voice at which Gian’s ears perk up almost visibly. If there was ever the equivalent of a friendship crush, this would be it – Gian would give his right arm to be able to bask in this man’s presence, which says a lot as the ginger makes sure not to play favourites. But Castle? Castle is his celebrity. Castle is to him what Sledge is to the rest of them.

Unfortunately, Castle is also well-armed when it comes to languages.

Jojo already sees himself ejected straight out of Rainbow as soon as Castle realises the new recruit in their midst is a fraud, which will be incoming in a second or two, as soon as Brit chooses Spanish or maybe German or even Latin -

What comes out of her mouth, however, is nothing Jojo has ever heard. It sounds so unfamiliar that his heart soars, even if there’s a shred of doubt still – it’s so foreign she might as well have made it up despite how confident she seems. It’s perfect. Whatever it is, maybe Arabic or Nigerian, who knows, will definitely throw Castle for a loop.

His confidence lasts for all of a heartbeat. Because the operator, momentarily baffled, responds in the same odd vernacular.

To everyone’s bewilderment, Brit doesn’t seem to mind as she continues, exchanging a few phrases with an increasingly jolly Castle and then waving goodbye before strutting off towards freedom, leaving the boys at her heels.

“That wasn’t Korean”, Valenti mutters. “What did you -”

“I can’t believe it”, Shay pants, and for once, he’s breathless, “you speak Klingon?!”

“You do too?! buy’qu’ ngop!”

Holy shit. Jojo isn’t sure whether his eyes can roll any further into his skull. This is so fucking in character for everyone involved he should’ve seen it coming a mile away.

While the two nerds continue gushing, to Valenti and Gian’s amusement and Jojo’s frustration, Ivan Ivanovic breaks off from the group, in the direction of the small office by the gate.

“I will tie shoelaces together”, he announces quietly.

That evening, when they’re all huddled together for warmth in one of their secret hideouts – the attic of one of Hereford’s practise houses –, the atmosphere feels different. Where just a week ago, Shay would’ve spent several hours typing on his phone, wholly engrossed in whichever inane conversation he was having with his paramour, today he’s much more involved. Not that he’s participating in the impromptu Smash Bros. tournament Valenti put together on the spot as soon as Ivan mentioned being able to beat him (though neither of them have ever touched the game prior to this), but at least he’s looking up whenever one of them hoots. Now and then, he relays Brit’s opinions about the evening, making most of them laugh: once they’d successfully jailbroken her, they all went to a nearby café to allow for some time to pass (and the poor barista thought she was getting robbed for a moment). Brittany must’ve really enjoyed herself nonetheless, inquired some more about Dante and those ‘weird polyglot Americans’.

Yes, Shay’s attention is slowly shifting back to them now that both bubbles have come into contact, and he’s probably hoping they’ll merge with time. Valenti and Gian seem relieved by this change, they must’ve missed him too, whereas Ivan Ivanovic is his usual inscrutable self. He gave nothing away, though he must’ve noticed Jojo has bummed quite a lot of cigarettes off him recently.

Jojo hates it.

He hates the way Shay’s entire face lights up when Gian comments on one of Brit’s remarks, hates how the others have just… accepted her. Because it doesn’t involve him. He didn’t fall for her womanly charm and he seems to be the only one who’s not picking up what she’s putting down. The others laugh and it almost feels like an attack. If he wants to keep being a part of this group, he has to like her, it implies. He better make an effort.

Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“Shay”, he addresses his former best friend during a brief lull, “how come you didn’t contribute any ideas earlier?”

The idiot either hasn’t noticed Jojo’s gloomy mood or has chosen to ignore it graciously. His smile is genuine, like someone whose faith in his so-called best friend is unshaken, and Jojo’s heart throbs. “Honestly, I was so happy about her being here that I didn’t even think. At all.”

“That is utterly endearing”, Gian replies, and Valenti goes awww and Jojo thinks: I’m gonna throw up in my mouth.

After Valenti has K.O.’d Ivan using Jigglypuff (something about which he’ll brag for at least a year), Jojo requests another cigarette break and only narrowly resists asking for a hug first thing when cold air hits them. The Russian is watching him closely, probably expecting an outburst of some kind and normally wouldn’t be far off. But Jojo’s feeling too pathetic to conjure up his trademark anger, and so they stand in silence for a while. “Is it just me or is she a bit of a slag?”, Jojo eventually bursts out when he can’t take it anymore.

Ivan isn’t smiling now. He takes his time answering. “Just you”, he says calmly.

“So you want to get into her undies as well, Ivanko?” The silence stretches on long enough so Jojo can berate himself mentally for voicing his thoughts out loud.

“No. She is nice. I like her.” The simplicity of his statements drives home just how true they are. With a pointed look, he adds: “We all do.”

And this we, again, doesn’t include Jojo.

#rainbow six siege #recruitverse #fanfic #jojo you biased idiot don't be so harsh #also I watched the great british bake off and basically imagined alice from season 10 for brit #just as lovely and all over the place #I have a gameplan for the next parts but god knows when I'll get around to writing them

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years

Text

Park Your Car in My Gay-rage

Castiel moved out West so he could live freely and with pride. However an anonymous act of bigotry chips away at his faith that he can live life without facing prejudice. And with each repair shop that turns him down the cracks keep growing. Why would Singer's Auto be any different?

Will his car ever be fixed? And could a certain mechanic restore more than just his car?

(Link to ao3)

Castiel slumps against his car, snapping his cell phone shut in frustration. Banging his hand against the hood he grumbles out a string of expletives as he gives up hope. Meg, leaning against the hood, drums her fingers on the closed Yellow Pages while watching him.

“So,” Meg says, “it a bust, too?”

He sighs, tapping his phone on his forehead. “More than that. The mechanic laughed me off after I told him what I needed and had a few choice opinions to tell me.”

Meg’s lips purse, and she steps back onto the sidewalk to stare at the rough scratches across her friend’s beige paint. The word was interrupted by the open driver seat’s door, but when closed all together the crude artist spelled out ‘FAGGOT’. “Maybe he knew the jackass who did this…”

Castiel ignores her, chewing on his lip. “How am I going to get this fixed…? I can’t drive around town like this.”

“And I’m sick and tired of looking through that thing,” she jerks her thumb at the offensive phone book, “Do you ever think searching for stuff will be easier? Like, I don’t know… all these names and numbers stored somewhere and it’d only take a few seconds to find exactly what you’re looking for?”

Frown slashed heavily across his face, Castiel turns to glare at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know… digging through that reminded me of this girl I went out with a couple’a times. Total geek, spent at least two dates going on and on about those huge, clunky computer things. Think she lived in an Internet Café… wait a minute!” She digs into her leather jacket pocket and pulls out her phone, flicking it open and clicking away.

He hops off his car, stepping closer out of curiosity. “What are you doing?”

“I just remembered,” she starts, not even looking at him, “she mentioned how she works at this garage –“

“Meg, we’ve tried all the garages in the area –“

“C’mon, trust me,” Meg continues, “place has to be good if they hired a lesbian.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t trust straight men’s views on lesbianism.” At that Meg stops staring at her phone to shoot Castiel a flat look. He hisses out a breath and runs tired fingers through his hair. “Sorry, I’m just tired and frustrated about all this… why is it so hard to find somebody for a body job?”

“Because unfortunately most people today are ignorant, Clarence,” Meg tells him, holding her phone against her ear, “And we’re not going to see any real change for years… maybe not until we’re all old and shriveled and grey.”

Huffing, Castiel crosses his arms against his chest and spins on his heel. He lets Meg talk to his back, done with their bleak conversation. Still, a part of him agrees with her opinion of the future for those like them. It wasn’t too long ago Castiel was trapped in his old hometown in Illinois, looking over his shoulder every weeknight to make sure no one followed him home. Fearful that one day his face would be a blip in the newsreel, another name to add to the wall like Matthew Shepard.

“I moved here to escape all that,” he mumbles to himself, “but apparently hatred can grow anywhere… even in California.”

Meg hops onto his back, interrupting his musings. She chokes him, forcing him to twirl her around until Castiel can pry her arms off of him. After wheezing in a good-sized breath, he asks what that was about.

“They’d be happy to take a look,” Meg says, “Free of charge!”

Castiel blinks at her. “What?”

“I told you this was a good place, Clarence. Hurry up though, they’re not gonna keep the shop open for you.” She rattles off the directions, having to repeat herself once Castiel shakes away the dazed look in his eye. “…And when you get there you’re supposed to ask for Dean,” she finishes, “Dean Winchester.”

“Why?”

“Guy overheard us talking and said he’d take care of it personally.”

“But… why?”

She shrugs, “Who knows, but he’s waving his fees. Don’t look a gift mechanic in the mouth, my gorgeous unicorn.” Meg pockets her phone and skips backwards, waving goodbye.

“Wait,” Castiel follows her, “you’re not coming with?”

“Band practice,” she says, “I’ve gotta swing over to my place and pick up my bass. You’ll do fine!” With a loud smack of her lips she disappears behind a corner, off on her own way.

Castiel waits a beat before he actually leaves. He starts the engine, idling some more to switch out the CD in the drive, so instead of blasting Indigo Girls he could drive to the music of the Cranberries. Skipping until he reached ‘Zombie’, Castiel nods his head along as he begins his journey over to Singer’s Auto Repair.

It wasn’t too confusing following Meg’s directions. Halfway through her second explanation Castiel realized he was familiar with the route. He’s driven that way countless time to visit a small bookstore he loves. The only one he’d been able to find that stocks trashy romance novels of more diverse backgrounds. Perks of living near West Hollywood, Castiel always knows where to go to find shops catered to others like him.

But he would have remembered seeing a car garage there.

Rounding the final corner, Castiel slows down and crawls along the street, head swerving left and right while ‘Yeat’s Grave’ plays on. After passing his bookstore, he spots a faded sign a few storefronts down.

“How have I never seen this before?”

Unassuming from the front, with faded brick and rusted steel, Bobby’s Auto Shop sits next to a leather shop and spans all the way to the corner. A single rainbow flag hangs from a pole jutting off the side of the building. Castiel pulls into an open garage, parking near the front and cutting the music off before the next song could begin. He steps out of the car and looks around.

There are at least five vehicles stationed inside the building at the moment. He sees one hefted up on a lift, a burly man inspecting it from below. Across from him two other mechanics argue over the exposed engine of a truck, long hair pulled back into tight ponytails. At a lounge area a black couple share a bag of chips.

Looking to the other side at what Castiel expects to be only a blank wall he spies a cluttered corkboard.

Castiel walks away from his car and over to it, scanning the different fliers tacked on. Notices for events like poetry readings and charity brunches to raise funds for AIDs research. A picture of a drag queen hangs next to an ad selling a lounger with a few of the tabs ripped off. There’s even a poster for Meg’s band, ‘The Demon Queens’ that he recognizes, having done the design for them.

“You find something you like?” a rough drawl from behind startles him. Castiel spins, coming face to face with a man who shouldn’t look so handsome streaked with oil. He stares into sparkling green eyes, the color only highlighted by the dark marks on his cheeks. The mechanic smirks, cocking one brow higher than the other. “You all right there?”

“Yeah-yeah-yes,” Castiel clears his throat, “Yes I am, sorry I… what did you ask?”

He chuckles, running dirty fingers through his light brown hair, coloring it darker. “You here for some work?”

Castiel nods. “I’m supposed to ask for a Dean… Winchester?”

Mechanic’s gaze widens, glancing back at Castiel’s car before returning to him. “You’re Meg’s friend?” he asks, grinning.

“Yes…?”

“Hmm… not what I was expecting,” he says, holding a hand out, “I’m Dean.”

Castiel flushes, cursing his luck. Of course the only mechanic who would work on his car would be the man who stepped off the set of a calendar shoot.

Pretty boys have always been Castiel’s weakness. From high school when he first understood where his attractions laid to now, something about them makes his brain shuts down. His tongue works against him and sweat pours out from everywhere; thoughts bottleneck behind the embarrassing urge to blurt out ‘you’re pretty’. Castiel ceases to function normally when presented with a pretty boy.

It’s been an uncomfortable amount of time where Dean’s hand hangs in the air. Castiel realizes it when the smile on his face slowly starts to fall.

He jerks his hand out in a panic, latching onto Dean’s with as relaxed a face he can force. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean.” His handshake is tight and fast, quickly pulling away as if burned.

Feeling something wet coating his palm Castiel prays Dean didn’t notice his sweat. However looking at it he belatedly remembers Dean’s hands were covered in oil.

“Shit,” Dean says, “Totally forgot to clean up… that’s my bad.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel tell him, “I’ve had worse… my hands are usually messy and covered in whatever.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Paints, clay… those types of things.”

“You an artist?”

“On my days off.”

Dean motions for Castiel to follow. He does. “You do any galleries?” he asks.

Castiel frowns, “I’ve been in one or two, but never on my own. Don’t have the money to afford a space.”

“If you ever do, feel free to advertise here,” Dean says, stopping by a large sink, “As you already know we have a place for a poster or two.”

“Duly noted.” He waits for Dean to turn on the faucet, letting him run his hands under the stream first. Once he finishes Castiel half-heartedly scrubs at the oil. There wasn’t much on his hand, and making any effort to wash it away wouldn’t fit with the cool façade Castiel tried to keep.

“Y’know,” Dean starts, hands hidden in a fluffy towel, “when Charlie told me about you, I thought you’d look a hell of a lot different.”

Castiel skews his head to the side. “How so?”

“Well I figured you’d be a girl,” he shrugs, “friend of an ex from Charlie, nine out of ten it’d be another lesbian or at least bisexual…“ Dean tosses the towel to Castiel, “egg on my face, right?”

He catches it haphazardly. “More like oil.” When Dean’s brows pinch together, Castiel mock wipes at his face with the towel.

“Really?” Dean whines, “You probably think I’m a slob.” He hurriedly splashes some more water on his face and snatches the towel back.

“Honestly?” Castiel says, “I don’t know enough about you to form an opinion.”

Dean looks up from the towel and smiles, dimples clear on his freckled cheeks. “We’ll have to fix that, then.” Before Castiel can overthink what that means Dean walks away and over to his car, Castiel racing to keep up. “So someone marked up your car?”

He sighs, “Yeah… I woke up the other day to find that – that word scratched on the side along with some… other things.” Castiel doesn’t dive in to the details of the torn up rainbow flag outside his apartment and the already painted over slurs carved onto his door. “That’s what I get for celebrating the first day of Pride, I guess.”

Dean frowns, running a hand across his car’s ugly scar. “You know the person who did this?”

Castiel shrugs. “Suspicions… but nothing concrete enough to make a claim or file a report.”

“If it were me I’d do more than that. Bastard would be walking with a limp – if at all – if they messed up my Baby.”

The threat brings a smile to Castiel’s face. He straightens out of the curled up posture he fell into. “Your ‘Baby’?”

“My car,” Dean explains, turning to him, “older model in black. A ‘67 Chevy Impala.”

“I must confess… I don’t know that much about cars.”

“Really?”

“I don’t quite know the model of my own car let alone what an Impala looks like.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Dean tells him, “Going your whole life without knowing what true beauty is? I’d take you out to see her now if I didn’t have to park so far away today.”

“You don’t have your own parking?”

He shakes his head. “Usually I snag a spot on the block but by the time I made it out of bed they were all taken. So I’m about three down in front of this deli. Anyway…” Dean kneels down again, inspecting his car closely. “This shouldn’t be tough… probably have it ready by tomorrow if nothing comes up.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asks, “If you have other clients waiting –“

“Nah I finished up my last appointment for the day already. Don’t stress about it.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he says, “all the other places I tried wouldn’t help me and here you make it sound so easy…” Then, Castiel remembers what Meg told him. “And for no pay? I don’t mind, I have the money –“

Dean reaches out for Castiel, grabbing his wrist to stop him from taking out his wallet. “I insist. I’m always looking for ways to give back to our community.”

Castiel smiles, his skin burning from Dean’s touch. “Our – ah… our community?” he starts, “do you mean that in a friendly neighborhood sense or…”

He rolls his eyes. “In a rainbow way.”

“Ah.” Castiel glances around the garage, gaze unable to land on any one point for long. “I was wondering… this is a very progressive garage.”

“Has been since the beginning,” Dean tells him, leaning against Castiel’s car, “Bobby’s been a staple here for a long time ever since he and his wife Karen moved in years ago.”

“Bobby?”

“Bobby Singer, the big ol’ boss of this place,” he explains, “He and Karen came here when things got dangerous for them back where they used to live.”

“Why was that?”

Dean launches Castiel back into the past, where a newly married Bobby and Karen were being threatened nearly every night when one of the women in Sioux Falls discovered Karen hadn’t always been called Karen. Gangs of men hung out in front of their house, dumping cigarette butts on their lawn. Every time they went out they were watched and followed, confronted on the days when people had a little more confidence than normal. Any room they entered became so silent a cough could shatter glass. Neither Bobby nor Karen was willing to move at first, until the first rock was thrown through their window. They packed their bags and left in the early morning, not stopping until their car broke down in California.

Bobby pushed it all the way to the closest garage. “It was closing,” Dean says, “And the only one there was the owner – and he didn’t see why he should help. So Bobby grabbed a box of tools and set to work. Halfway through fixing his own car, someone pulled up and asked Bobby to look under his hood. He did and made the engine purr. Owner saw and demanded Bobby give him the money from that. Made a deal and bought the place with what was left of their savings.”

“And he turned it into this,” Castiel says, “I wish I knew about Singer’s sooner… would have saved me a lot of guff whenever I needed my oil changed.”

“I’ll admit we can do better in advertising,” Dean shrugs, “Mainly we rely on word-of-mouth… although we did get a lot of customers after Benny namedropped us in one of his shows.”

“Benny?”

Dean jerks his thumb over towards the burly man from earlier, chatting with the previously bickering mechanics by the truck. “He’s a drag queen. Performs over at the Roadhouse every Wednesday as ‘The Vamp’. I mentioned he should promote the garage in his act one night when I was helping him do his make-up.”

Castiel recalls the picture of the drag queen he saw pinned to the cork board, notices the similarities between the figure captured and the one in front of him. “Is everyone who works here a… um, on the rainbow?”

“More or less,” Dean shrugs, “Jo – the blonde – been on Estrogen for two years, has her first round of surgery coming up in a few weeks. Dorothy doesn’t conscribe to the binary but they still identify as a lesbian…” He swings his finger over to the lounge area. “Max is as gay as the next guy but his sister Alicia’s our token straight.” Turning back to face Castiel he says, “And Charlie you already know only goes for chicks.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Dean chuckles, “Why I’m bi as fuck!”

Castiel laughs as well. “Are you trying to collect all the letters?”

“Like queer Pokémon,” Dean nods, earning another round of snickers. “Nah, we all kinda drifted together. Jo and the Banes twins lived in the area – Jo’s mom actually owns the Roadhouse. But the rest of us… Bobby took under his wing in one way or another.”

Storm clouds brew in the timbre of Dean’s voice, the shiny jewels of his eyes losing their luster. Castiel feels the temperature between them dip low by tens of degrees. Whatever Dean doesn’t say must weigh heavily to flatten the good mood he was in.

It’s a familiar burden Castiel knows all too well.

“Do you know what my name means?”

Dean blinks, thrown off by the sudden shift in topics. “Uh… no –“

“It’s a bastardized version of an angel’s name,” he explains, “Cassiel. They thought the extra ‘s’ was too… feminine. But I was born on a Thursday and…” Castiel trails off, grimacing.

“Religious family?” Dean asks.

He nods. “My dad was heavily involved with our local Church.”

“So when you…”

“It was not a fun time,” Castiel says, “I didn’t go home for the first two years after I left for college but… we learned not to speak about it. Although every now and then my mother sends me pamphlets for seminary school.”

Dean barks out a rough laugh, biting his lip. A brief, charged silence stands between them where Castiel can’t breathe. He nearly backs away, tells Dean that it’s okay. They’re strangers – all he needs is a body job, not a life story. But then he sucks his lower lip under his teeth and starts.

“My dad caught me fooling around with another boy when I was sixteen,” he says, “And after the punches kicked me out on my ass. Joke’s on him, though, because I managed to snag the keys to the car. Drove around for the first year seeing the sights until I found my way to Bobby’s. Picked up shifts part-time until he noticed me sleeping in my car. Cuffed me on the head and told me to take the spare room in the apartment above.”

“Karen didn’t mind?”

“Karen died years earlier,” Dean smiles ruefully, “Cancer. But she would’ve done the same thing. Wish I could’ve met her, though, heard she made killer apple pie.”

And in that moment, Castiel finds himself wishing he had the chance as well. Dean talks about his family with so much love he wants to meet them all, or at least here him tell more stories about them. Knowing that this group of people have found each other and are happy gives Castiel more hope for the future for people like them.

Dean Winchester’s gravitation is too powerful to resist, and Castiel falls into his orbit happily.

A set of squeaky wheels interrupts their conversation, an older man in a trucker’s cap rolling up to them. “Winchester,” he barks, “I don’t pay you to stand around and flirt. Git to work on this poor boy’s car!”

They break apart, both their cheeks bright red. Dean hangs his head, rubbing his hands against his coveralls. “Right away, Bobby.”

Bobby shakes his head, leaving them. “Idjits…”

Castiel shuffles his feet, wringing his hands together. He waits until the other man is far away before speaking again. “So… that’s Bobby.”

“Yeah,” he huffs, “Bastard’s usually never this ornery… probably getting me back for walking in on him and his boyfriend the other night.” Dean scoffs, crossing his arms, “Not my fault Crowley didn’t lock the damn door…”

The past few minutes catch up with Castiel and he feels the awkwardness creeping back up his spine like a spider. “I… I should be going,” he stutters out, startling Dean.

“Really?” Dean asks, his frown confusing to Castiel’s already addled mind.

He nods, pacing backwards. “Thank you for your help and… and the talk.” Then before Dean could respond Castiel races out the garage door and doesn’t look back. Castiel makes it past the leather shop before he falls back against the storefront and gasps for breath.

“Castiel,” he mumbles to himself, “stupid… ‘and the talk’. Why can’t you talk to pretty boys without losing your head.”

He knocks his head against the brick latticework repeatedly, angry with how he blew his shot with the pretty mechanic. In between the heavy pounding she gives himself he hears a slight cough to his right.

Squinting an eye open Castiel sees Dean watching him with an amused grin across his face. Throwing himself away from the wall, Castiel turns to face him. “Dean?” he starts, “What are… what are you doing here?”

Dean steps closer, invading Castiel’s space. The smell of motor oil and cologne makes him dizzy. “You left in such a hurry, Cas, you forgot to give me your phone number.”

His heart skips over itself as a sunny ray of hope shoots across his chest. Clouds return to cover it when he remembers past garage experiences where mechanics needed it to reach him. He deflates. “Right, so you can tell me when my car’s ready.”

Dean juts his lower lip out, head bobbing as he considers Castiel’s statement. “Yeah for that, too.”

“Too?”

“Well I mean how else can I ask you out if I don’t have your number?”

A stone lodges itself in Castiel’s throat. “You… you want to ask me out… on a date?”

His eyebrows jump up. “I… I wasn’t misreading anything… was I?”

That spurs Castiel into action. “No, no! You weren't… I am… I’m interested.”

Dean relaxes, hand splayed against his chest. “Good, got nervous there for a second.” He looks to Castiel, waiting. “So…?”

They exchange numbers, Dean handing Castiel’s phone back with a wink and a promise to call later. Then he heads back to the garage to smooth out the scratches on his car.

Castiel stands there, outside the leather shop, too shocked to move. Somehow he gains control of his legs again and picks one up after the other.

When he makes it to the bus stop, Castiel pulls his phone out and stares at Dean’s number. Butterflies flutter in his stomach as the largest smile blossoms on his face.

It stays there all the way back to his apartment.

#Supernatural #Spn #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic #bisexual dean winchester #tw: homophobic language

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jackbabewang · 5 years

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Two worlds 03

part two

Members: Jaehyun x Reader

Word count: 1,407

”If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.”

“Who is this guy you’ve been hanging out lately?” The question is everywhere, from everyone, your friends never stopped wondering. You’re just as curious. Was it something that wasn’t supposed to happen? Does it even deserve the many doubts? Why was it even under their control?

“I like him.” That’s all. No need for words that are extravagant and fancy to summarize your feelings, it’s just that simple.

Pairs of eyes grew double in their sizes from the revelation. “How about Lucas?” You’ve seen this coming either.

Your circle of friends, or people that heard of you, and him, knew that there’s something going in between. It wasn’t official but it’s the kind of relationship where people understood and agreed that you were his, and he was yours. There wasn’t a label to it, but they deduced you will end up as a couple, eventually, or maybe you guys already did. Those were only their thoughts. Well, it’s not like you never had feelings for him either. You do. Scratch that. You did.

“Wait wait wait… Did you guys do the do that night?” Ten holds out his hand to gather your attention. And he started the frenzy.

“Making love, having sex, fucking. Which one?” Johnny counts on his fingers.

You could only roll your eyes. “None. We didn’t do anything.” The objection totally killed their mood. They were expecting to hear stories about how well he did in bed, and maybe making you divulge information of his size.

“I clearly saw you two walking upstairs and you said no? What were you doing inside then? Having tea party and playing dress up?” Ten scoffs in disbelief.

At the corner of your eyes, Yuta had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek and his hand jerking back and forth. A gesture that everyone knew well of.

“No!” You swat him over the head, “Jaehyun isn’t like that.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.” Another voice joined in and you’re like a deer in headlights.

Apparently Ten hasn’t yet to notice the presence so he continues, “I mean… Jaehyun seems like a good guy but men do have their needs-” That is until Yuta drags him away to avoid the growing tension.

“How ironic it was to witness my own sweetheart going down for someone. At my own party.” He didn’t even bother to mutter a quick ‘hello’. Not like he would anyway. He’s practically staring daggers at you, a corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. His entire existence radiating an offensive smugness.

Right, you kind of forgotten that he was there. For sure he will be, he’s part of the fraternity anyway. You didn’t see him; he did. Certainly, he wasn’t very happy to see you getting all touchy with your guest.

“Lucas, it’s not what you think-”

“Why? Have you lower your standards now that you’re preying on the nerds?”

Without a second thought, your hand strikes sharply across his face in response to the insults. Expressing your disapproval towards his indirect slut-shaming and rude behavior. Most of all, you don’t like the way he addressed the latter.

“Y/N, you’re laying your hands on me over some geek? Are you even serious?” His eyes snapped back, anger rippling through. “This is just plain stupid,” his body shook slightly as he laughs in a mocking manner. “I don’t know what kind of tricks you’re pulling this time. You’re just making yourself a laughing stock.”

You gave an impatient shake of your head. “It doesn’t matter.” This is an unexpected transformation of you, for he thinks that you’re out of your mind, getting all guarded and stood up for a guy that he never imagined would’ve become his rival. A guy most probably he never even heard of.

Before he can make more malicious comments on you, or him, you walk away. It’s always been like this, this on and off relationship with Lucas. And most of the time it just went off, all because of that tongue of his. He could never hold back himself from anger, lashing out at whoever and whomever. The heated conversation you had just magnified the many reasons why you and him will never turn out to be the ‘package’ that everyone assumed you will be.

Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. Being brave means you are scared, really scared, badly scared. The idea of ending whatever between you and him crossed your mind for countless times, even if it means losing the person that you once loved. You have the urge but not the guts to speak up, fearing that you won’t be able to cope with the consequences so you held on until then. You’re not going to lie and say it will be okay, because at first it won’t. At first it will hurt so damn bad that you can barely breathe. It will hurt so damn bad that you will second-guess yourself, but you did the right thing. Letting someone go that is toxic to you is the right choice.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jaehyun whispers, his voice barely audible. There’s no need for him to increase the decibel anyway, you’ve got the whole place to yourself—fifth floor of the library, the silent study zone where no one would stay there unless it’s nearing finals period. The table at the far end of the area, practically a blind spot, a space just for you two. Studying, if it was even possible in your case; random conversations, cat naps or simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“Nothing.” Your lips flexed into something that almost passed for a smile. He wasn’t convinced in the way his face fell into a small frown. It was like he knew you so well that the effort you tried to mask your emotions were unnecessary. Feeling bare and naked under his gaze, like an open book that he’d be able to finish in the blink of an eye—even if it’s a thousand pages.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your hand wanders to his, fingers laced and you pull it closer to have your cheek resting against his warm skin. You always find comfort in these little things.

Jaehyun inches forward, leaving you both in centimeters apart and his unoccupied hand caresses your hair, to holding your face gently. He just knew all the right ways to touch you. The butterflies in your stomach were going wild. But it’s washed away alongside your goodbyes.

‘After rain there’s a rainbow, after a storm there’s calm.’ What a lie. It was too early for you to be happy, too late for you to regret. When you saw Jaehyun holding someone but you in his arms, you broke. Literally.

She was someone who is entirely different from you. An opposite. You didn’t know her, but you could tell, she must have meant a lot to him. He was comforting her in a manner he did to you back then, maybe a little gentler, with much delicateness and with love. She’s petite and vivacious, looks decent but well-mannered—the type of girls that he would consider as a candidate for a girlfriend. And it hits you like a truck. She must be his first love. It was never mentioned that their ‘breakup’ was recent. Judging the way they hold each other, it seems like they’ve gotten back together.

The roses to your heart crushed, withered and dry. They turn to dust. Their scent, their fragrance is no more. You’re seriously scared to catch feelings for anyone anymore. No matter how good it’s going or how faithful that person is at the time, it seems like whenever you get attached everything just seems to go wrong. For Lucas and for Jaehyun. You gave them part of you and they discarded it like it meant nothing.

Maybe it was just you overanalyzing things all this while. You thought Jaehyun loved you the way you love him. You thought the kisses were a way of him returning his feelings; returning the feelings to have it kept within yourself.

Maybe Lucas was right, everyone was right. You both were not meant for each other in the first place. The difference between you and him is still a million miles.

You felt the pain in your chest and there’s nothing you can do to stop the aching. It feels like death, somewhere your heart bursts and your lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to your brain and only raw panic.

Can God see me cry here?

part four

#it didnt turn out like it was in my head #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct imagines #nct stories

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matthewschueller · 5 years

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One Day in Madrid | Gay Madrid Guide

One Day in Madrid?

So you’re planning your trip around Europe and you’ve only got 24 hours in Madrid… it is not easy to deeply experience Madrid in such a short time, but with a bit of quick walking and an optimistic mindset to see as much as possible, here’s what you should put on your list for what to see in Madrid in 24 hours!

Our first recommendation is to plan fo more than 24 hours in this beautiful city. Madrid is often overlooked by backpackers around the world when planning a trip around Europe, but it shouldn’t be skipped! The vibrant and electric atmosphere of the city will have you wanting to book a trip back before you depart.

Gay Madrid

Madrid is one of the most gay friendly cities in Europe. After the huge success of World Pride in 2017, Madrid has become one of the top destinations for LGBTQ+ people everywhere. Its infamous Chueca neighborhood is the city’s gayzone and holds some of the best gay bars in Madrid. While boasting the most lively Madrid night clubs, we recommend including Kapital Madrid on your night out. Apart from the fun of Chueca, Madrid should be near the top of anyone’s must-see list and here’s why!

What To See in Madrid in 24 Hours

Madrid is a very walkable city. The best thing you can do to get oriented with the city is to first partake in a free walking tour. And what better way to experience a bit of the spontaneous street-art throughout the city than to walk around! Here are some of the best free walking tours in Madrid.

1. Take a Tour

Free Walking Tours Madrid:

The free tour leaves every day at 11am (Saturdays at 3pm) from the Plaza del Callao. The walking tour is available in Spanish and English.

Free Tour of Madrid:

This tour runs for about 3 hours from Plaza Mayor. The walking tour is given in English and Spanish. The start times are 10am, 11am, 2pm, and 4pm.

OK Hostel Free Walking Tour:

Some of the Hostels in central Madrid offer Free Walking Tours as well. We stayed at OK Hostel and took advantage of their free tour along with other travelers!

Rainbow Gay Tours

Looking for more incredible in-depth tours around Madrid? Our friends at Rainbow Gay Tours gave us an experience of a lifetime while in Spain. In Madrid, dive in with one of their premium tours! Get 10% off when mentioning “Michael and Matt” on your email/booking! We Recommend:

Madrid City Center Tour: In this three-hour tour you will discover the most important monuments and places of the city center, unhurried and at your own pace.

Madrid Rainbow Night: In this 2 hour tour, you will be shown the most popular venues for the LGBT community where you can party and have a good time!

2. Puerta del Sol

Whether you’re looking for some great shopping, chow down on churro con chocolate, or people watch amidst the various street performers, Puerta del Sol is Madrid’s most famous central gathering place. Just a short walk from Plaza Mayor, Puerta del Sol was originally the spot of Madrid’s old city east gate.

3. Almudena Cathedral (Santa María la Real de La Almudena)

This Neo-Gothic Cathedral can be a quick stop on your way to the Royal Palace, or you can spend 1 to 2 hours here walking around its chapels and chambers. This is actually a newer cathedral, with construction beginning in 1879. Santa Maria Cathedral is open from 9:30am to 8:30pm 7 days a week. However, the museum is only open Monday through Saturday 10am to 2:30pm.

4. Royal Palace of Madrid (Palacio Real De Madrid)

As the grandest building in Madrid, The Royal Palace boasts an insane amount of History presenting tons of information on the Kings of Spain from Charles III to Alfonso XIII. Just a short walk from the Plaza Mayor, you can wander some of its 3000+ rooms, and look in awe at its ornate decoration. Don’t miss the Changing of the Guard (presented on Wednesdays and Saturdays). While it costs to enter the Royal Palace, you can enjoy its beauty admiring the outside if you’re in a rush. Or, come by in the evening and see the Palace from the nearby Sabatini Gardens.

Sabatini Gardens

Want another fascinating view of the Royal Palace? Head just north of the Palace, down the giant staircases to Sabatini Gardens. These Classical gardens were built in the 1930s where the former stables used to be. Here you can admire gorgeous flowers, a fascinating set of reflecting pools and fountains, and the Palace’s towering north facade. The Sabatini Gardens are open from 9am to 9pm and are especially magical close to sunset. This is one of the best places to watch the sunset in Madrid. If you’re looking for a great Instagram photo opportunity, stand at the northern end of the reflecting pool and set the Royal Palace as your backdrop.

Watch our 24 hours in Madrid and Toledo!

5. Plaza Mayor

Madrid’s living room, and the major public square in the heart of the city center. While wandering the tightly packed streets of central Madrid, you can’t miss this grand open space, boasting warm colors and picturesque architecture. The cobbled stone square is flanked by countless cafes, and acts as the meeting place, including for many of the free walking tours. This plaza was designed in 1619 by Juan Gómez de Mora and is something you must see in Madrid. Food and drink can be a bit overpriced in the plaza, but it’s worth sitting down at one of the tables at least once for the experience! We recommend Restaurant DCorozon at the North East corner of the plaza.

6. Madrid’s Museums

Madrid is a city filled to the brim with museums. From incredible paintings, history, artwork and architecture, it’s not easy to experience all of them even in a lengthy visit. In a pinch, here are the best museums in Madrid:

Prado Museum (Museo Nacional del Prado)

The Prado Museum (Museo Nacional del Prado) is a must-see when visiting Spain’s capital. There are many tours available to really dive into the works, but for those of you who are on a tight schedule, one or two hours can be enough to see the most important pieces of art. There are over 7,000 paintings within its interior, so even spending the entire day here is likely to only scratch the surface, and is an intimidating feet! The Museum is open from 10am to 8pm, however visiting at the very start of the day or during lunchtime around 2pm may save you some time in the queues. Buying a ticket in advance means that you can head straight in through security and avoid the long line altogether. Free entry is offered from 6 to 8pm Monday through Saturday and 5-7pm on Sundays and holidays, but the free hours almost always equate to large lines and crowded rooms. Must-see paintings include Valaquez’s Las Meninas, and Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights.

Reina Sofia Museum (Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía):

Spain’s national museum which holds 20th-century art. This prized museum is also located close to the Atocha train station in Madrid’s “golden triangle” of art. Holding Picasso’s Guernica, this is an essential stop for any lover of art. The Reina Sofia is closed every Tuesday, with entry from 10am to 9pm. The least busiest time to visit is right at opening. Like the Prado Museum, you can purchase tickets online in advance.

Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum (Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza):

Another incredibly popular museum in Madrid hosting an overview of art from the 13th to the late 20th century. From Renaissance and Baroque, to Pop Art and Impressionism, The Thyssen is one of the most extraordinary private collections of European art in the world. Where the Prado and Reina Sofia allow you to dive into specific bodies of work, the Thyssen takes a much broader view of artistic styles. Canaletto, Rubens, Degas, Manet and Van Gogh are just a few of the great artists represented here. The Thyssen is open from 10am to 7pm Tuesday through Sunday, and 12pm to 4pm on Mondays with free entry. Purchase your tickets online.

7. El Retiro Park

After running around in the hot sun for much of the day, what better place to go and relax than Madrid’s El Retiro Park? With over 15,000 trees, Madrid’s largest park is bound to provide you with plenty of shade and a little relaxation for your mid-day siesta. Check out Rainbow Gay Tours Retiro Park Tour which will take you through to see the best sights, ending in the lively Chueca district!

The Crystal Palace (Palacio de Cristal)

As one of the most iconic buildings in Madrid, this is a must-see spot in El Retiro Park. Located in the center of the park, the palace is made almost entirely from glass. The interior hosts art exhibitions and you may enter for free to see how the light shining through the crystal bounces around the many surfaces. The Crystal Palace is also a hotspot for Instagram photos. As you walk around the small lake in front of it, be sure to take advantage of the fun photo opportunities here!

The Retiro Park Lake (Estanque grande del Retiro)

If you fancy renting a small rowboat for a few euros, you can enjoy the coolness of Retiro Park’s Lake and paddle around, enjoying the view. The lake lies just beyond the massive statue of Alfonso XII, and is especially beautiful at sunset.

The Rose Garden (La Rosaleda)

Most of the flowers and roses are blooming in full force by late May, making this part of the park absolutely stunning any part of the late Spring. Walk through and get lost in its many arches and thousands of roses. It’s the perfect spot to rest your feet on a bench, watch the fountains, and simply enjoy a quiet moment away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

8. Tapa Street (Calle de la Cava Baja)

You cannot visit Madrid without experiencing the madness and fun of going out for tapas! Cram yourself into a small bar a little past 8pm to start your dinner with small plates and ask for a glass of vino tinto or 3! There are by far more tapa bars than empty stomachs in Madrid, but here on Calle de la Cava Baja you will find some of the best and locally popular spots in the old city. This is one of the best places to eat in Madrid. Looking for a couple places to start? Check out Lamiak and Casa Lucas.

9. San Miguel Market (Mercado de San Miguel)

Although not the cheapest place to get tapas in Madrid, San Miguel Market holds a massive variety of flavors and represents a new type of Spanish cuisine. The large indoor market is packed with tourists and locals alike drinking and eating and meeting with friends in the open areas around the market. Even if you’re not planning on having your entire dinner here, it’s worth checking out and enjoying a couple exquisite and modern tapas.

10. Chueca District

Chueca is the heart of gay Madrid. For nightlife, the bars and clubs are primarily centered around Plaza de Vazquez de Mella. Whether you’re looking for a place to grab a drink, sit down for dinner, go shopping, or go dancing, Chueca has something for everyone. It’s an active area that in recent decades has exploded as the quintessential gay neighborhood of Madrid. Make sure to cut out a little time to experience the nightlife here.

Where to Stay in Madrid

With a ton to see comes just as many options for accommodations including many hotels and hostels in Madrid. When looking at aspects of location, affordability, comfort and social atmosphere, these are the best places to stay in Madrid.

Axel Hotel:

In the heart of the old city is Axel Hotel, providing an incredibly fun and comfortable environment to see all the best parts of Madrid while being able to meet others in the city. With its rooftop pool and bar, Axel is the most renowned and top recommended LGBTQ+ hotel in central Madrid. Book your stay at Axel Hotel.

OK Hostel Madrid:

Along with hotel options, there are a variety of hostels to choose from in Madrid. OK Hostel is one of the most popular and highest rated hostels in the city center. It is one of our favorite hostales en Madrid! OK Hostel takes the cake for great location, centered just a five minute walk from Plaza Mayor and a short distance from the gay and nightlife district, Chueca. OK hostel hosts tons of group activities including their daily free walking tour, and a pretty expansive breakfast including eggs, bacon, and a fun cappuccino machine! This makes for a great, comfortable and affordable option for those who are looking to meet fellow travelers and backpackers. Book your stay at OK Hostel Madrid.

#gay madrid #madrid spain #gay travel #LGBTQ travel #Gay Spain #Travel Spain #Gay Travel Spain #Madrid #24 Hours in Madrid #What to do in Madrid #One Day in Madrid #Madrid gay guide

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is6621 · 5 years

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The Story of the #lovewins Campaign- By Natalie White

In the afternoon of June 26th 2015, there were 2.6 million tweets, posted that day with the hashtag #LoveWins. At the peak of the day, there were an average of 35,000 tweets sent out with the hashtag every minute. It was earlier that morning that the US Supreme Court decided in a 5-4 ruling for the legalization of same sex marriage, and people took to twitter and social media to show their support.

Who were the creators of the hashtag?

The Human Rights Campaign created the slogan before the Supreme Court ruling, and had selected #LoveWins as the hashtag and message they would promote if the court were to rule in favor of LGBTQ+ marriages.

The Human Rights Campaign (HRC) is a non-profit organization that was founded in 1980 as a political action committee for gay and lesbian political candidates. They originally set out to provide financial support for these candidates that fought for gay civil rights legislation. Over time the group expanded beyond political lobbying, creating campaigns and projects that made change across the globe. Examples of these include the #LoveConquersHate project in 2014 during the Sochi olympics to support Russian LGBTQ+ athletes, the #AskTheGays project in 2016 in response to the Orlando club shooting (the hashtag was inspired by one Trump’s thoughtless comments), and their “Project One America” campaign where they traveled across the country in 2015 to educate groups about equality and civil rights.

Throughout the Supreme Court case, the HRC sought to create a campaign that would inspire people to create and share original content that supported love around the world. Their goal was to spark conversation both online and offline, to make LGBTQ+ individuals feel supported by their community, and to foster positive connections between love, acceptance, equality, and the case ruling within the greater society.

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What made it go “viral”?

After the decision, HRC posted content across multiple platforms to get the message started. Their instagram page featured over 30 photos, and included live content from outside of the White House and the Supreme Court.

They put up 40 posts on Facebook and published 40 Tweets, all including the hashtag #LoveWins. The content they shared was “innovative and interactive, highlighting not only the win for LGBTQ+ people, but celebrating love for everyone, everywhere”.

The #LoveWins message skyrocketed across social media, receiving overwhelming support from celebrities, political figures, athletes, influencers, and ordinary individuals. It was spoken about on news outlets, and was the top trending hashtag across Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Obama tweeted early in the morning using the hashtag, and his post was retweeted 390,376 times.

Celebrities shortly followed his lead, with Justin Timberlake, Kim Kardashian, Jessica Alba, Katy Perry and countless others posting tweets with the hashtag, and of course queer icons like Ellen and Miley Cyrus cheering on the decision because of course, #lovewins.

An important aspect of what helped make the hashtag become widespread, was the fact that it called on individuals to share and create their own content with the message. Whether it was a personal celebration, or a social obligation, it provided a way to show your friends that you are open and supportive of the LGBTQ+ community.

What about brands?

Brands recognized what was going on on social media, and not only tweeted about marriage equality, but some even made custom products to celebrate. The most notable companies are Smirnoff, and Ben and Jerry’s. Smirnoff rolled out to stores a line of vodka bottles that were colored chromatic rainbow, and boasted an image of a newly wed couple on the front. For each bottle that was manufactured and sold, Smirnoff donated one dollar to LGBTQ+ causes. These bottles saw tremendous success in sales, earned recognition in top magazines, and Smirnoff even won an award for its role as a consumer brand in social justice.

Ben and Jerry’s has been supporting the LGBTQ+ community for a long time, starting in 1989 when they were the first major employer in Vermont to offer health insurance benefits to same sex partners of Ben and Jerry’s employees. They have supported in countless ways since then, so it is no surprise that they were ready to celebrate when the ruling was decided in 2015. In honor of the new marriages, they supportively and pridefully renamed their key flavor- Cookie dough- to “I Dough, I Dough”.

A few important takeaways

The far reach of the #lovewins campaign has been incredibly influential in building a sense of support to those that have historically faced hate, disgust, and discrimination. It sparked conversations and publicly praised openness and acceptance. While it created positive change in many minds, when discussing and responding to “viral” campaigns such as this, we must remember to be sensitive. It is interesting to analyze how the hashtag grew to be shared so many times, but we should be careful in calling it viral, as it could trivialize the historic struggles of the LGBTQ+ community. A parallel can be drawn to the black lives matter movement. When we discuss either struggle, even as it exists on a social platform basis, it is important to talk about it from a mindset that recognizes that what may be a single hashtag or post for one, is a daily battle for another. Brands in particular must be cautious when endorsing or posting about social struggles, because there is a fine line between a company being socially “woke”, and trying to profit off of the latest “viral” post- even if it relates to discrimination. The brands mentioned, such as Smirnoff and Ben and Jerry’s, understood that concept and took strides in their product to show they fully supported the cause. Both individuals and brands that engaged in the #lovewins campaign did a terrific job of fostering openness and acceptance in society.

#http://series.hashtagsunplugged.com/lovewins https://www.worldreligionnews.com/issues/lovewins-pew-update-on-how-the-supreme-courts-decision

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paladin-andric · 5 years

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Day of the Roses

Happy Valentine’s Day! For this occasion, I decided to write up a little something about a love-struck bird. This takes place right before Eignach and Razorwing took that step and went from friends to something...a little more. He decided to do this on the Day of the Roses, a holiday in Deaco that celebrates love in all its forms...

The smell of fresh flowers filled the air of the shop, as the jingling of a bell signaled the arrival of a patron. The owner, currently rifling around under the counter, shot up at the noise.

“Ah, welcome, welcome!”

The owner was a koutu, a tall and graceful woman who took long strides in her approach. She was mostly a pure white, with black at the ends of her wings and right above her legs. There were also black quills rising out of her head, and the feathers of her face were a colorful orange.

She smiled at the small, crowlike koutu standing nervously at the entrance.

“Ahh, a fine Day of the Roses to you! Come for a bouquet?”

“Umm...yes.”

Eignach’s voice was quiet and timid, lacking certainty.

“Oh, well that’s wonderful! Were there any flowers you had in mind?” the tall birdwoman seemed to tower over Eignach, shaking his confidence even further. He already felt small, but now…

“U-umm...I-I don’t know...I’m not…”

“...a botanist?” she finished, a playful smile on her face.

“Y-yeah.”

“Well, lucky for you, I am! Let’s find you something nice.”

Countless flowers adorned the walls and tables, held in containers with what was most likely water. They were everywhere, and the sights and smells left Eignach a little disoriented.

“See anything you like?” the owner asked, wings folded behind her as she led the young bird through the shop.

“Uh...I don’t know. They’re all so different...”

“Tsk. Of course they are! Surely you can pick something out! Each carries a distinct presence, a meaning and benefit.”

“I dunno...they’re all just pretty flowers to me.”

The woman sighed, his cluelessness grating on her. “Very well...should I recommend a bouquet for you, than?”

“That would be wonderful.”

She stopped and nodded. “Okay. Why don’t we do roses? That’s always a safe bet. The holiday itself venerates them, after all!”

Eignach nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah! Roses! Lots of roses!”

The woman raised a brow and cracked a smile. “Sounding a lot more confident all of a sudden, friend.”

The smaller koutu shrugged. “There’s just so much to pick from…I didn’t know where to begin.”

“Well, allow me to help you.” the shop owner stopped before a collection of roses, all of them a rich red. “A traditional rose, deep red, symbolizes the burning heart of one who feels a deep and unfettered love for another. It symbolizes the red-hot blood of passion and zeal. It is a flower of love. Does that sound right for you?”

Eignach’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s perfect! That’s just what I want!”

The woman smirked. “Slow down, now! There’s lots of different roses, and they all mean different things!”

The crow’s ecstatic bouncing ceased. “O-oh.”

“Well, red is for love,” she explained, “But there’s others too! Pink roses are for gentle kindness and adoration of another.”

“A-adoration? Oh, I think I might want that…”

“Yellow is for warmth and happiness! Green is for life. White is purity and orange is for desire...now which of those sound like a match for what you want…?”

The smaller, nervous koutu looked like he was at his wits end now. It took quite a while for him to muster a response.

“Umm...all of them?”

…

The shop owner wrote the transaction down on a piece of paper as Eignach watched her count the coins he had handed over. To the side, his purchase sat in waiting.

“So...are these for a special someone of yours?” She eyed him as she kept writing, offering a small smile.

“Y-yeah, they are.”

“Really, now...don’t be so nervous, dear! I’m sure they’ll love it. Calm yourself before you get back!”

“O-oh...thank you, ma’am. I’ll try.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The sounds of quill on paper filled the air for a moment before she broached the subject again.

“So...how long have you been together?”

Eignach’s eyes went wide.

“U-umm…”

She gave the crow a confused look.

“W-well...we haven’t.”

Now it was the woman’s turn to become excited. Her face seemed to fill with new life as she grinned like mad at the admission.

“Oooooh! You’re finally declaring your love for someone you’ve had your eye on, aren’t you?!”

“Y-yeah…” the young man looked uncomfortable.

“Oho! Who’s the lucky recipient? Who are you pining after?”

Her teasing seemed to only be making him worse, his head bowed and burning with embarrassment now.

“Hey, don’t be like that! You love them, don’t you?”

He hesitated. This woman was a complete stranger. He’d only come here because he heard how good the quality of her stock was. Yet…

“I do...with, um, uh...with every fiber of my heart.”

“Well, than there’s nothing to be ashamed of! Love isn’t something to hide away! Be proud! Be joyful! Being with another is a miracle of life, there’s no reason to cast your head down!”

“I-I don’t know if he…you know...”

Ah. There was the problem. Fear of rejection, or perhaps fear of ruining a friendship. It was something she was familiar with, as her customers sometimes confided such things.

Eignach let a out girlish yelp as two talons clutched onto his shoulders.

“Hey! Look at me.”

He turned his gaze up, and stared at the woman leaning over the counter and grabbing onto his shoulders.

“If you don’t do this, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been. A bit of fear in your heart is natural, but you can’t let it rule you! You have to take a deep breath, gather your courage, and march up to that man and tell him you love him, you hear me?!”

Eignach gulped. He blinked, and suddenly things didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Yeah...yeah, you’re right! I can’t give up! I’ve come this far!”

“That’s the spirit!” the woman shoved the bouquet into his chest, the small crow quickly grabbing it and nodding at her.

“Get out there and stake your heart’s claim, mister!”

“I-I will! I’ll do it right now! Razorwing will love these! Thank you ma’am!”

“Don’t mention it! Good luck!” she called out as the small bird rushed out of the shop, bells jingling as the door shut behind him.

“Ah, that’s what this day’s all about…” the shop owner, one Miss Finnibir, had her hands on her hips as she felt pride over inspiring the man to follow his heart. After a moment however, her smile faltered.

“H-hey, wait a minute…” it turned into a frown, her eyes shooting open as his words finally crashed into her.

“R...RAZORWING?!”

She clutched onto the counter as she stared in bewilderment at the door. Some man had just announced his desire to propose his love for Razorwing! THAT Razorwing!

“W-wait! B-but I...I was…”

Her body slumped over. Finnibar’s beak scraped against the counter as she stood there, defeated.

“...I was gonna do that.”

She idly scratched at the wood with a talon as she thought it over.

“Unbelievable. He always struck me as such a ladies’ man...tsk, just my luck.”

She sulked, lazily stepping into the back room. In this private area she moved to the end of the storage room, approaching her greatest creation. A massive bouquet of flowers from all over the world was sitting on a table, something truly remarkable. Their sights, their colors, their auras...it all combined into a rainbow of beauty, her finest and most costly arrangement ever.

She sighed and shook her head, wings folding over herself. “Well...it’ll sell for a lot, at least…”

Finnibar grimaced. “W-well...so what?! There are plenty of fish in the sea! So what if he’s taken?! He’s only famous...and handsome…and charming...and kindly...a-and probably saved the world...”

She stewed over it for a moment longer before narrowing her eyes. Just like she’d told the man, she had to get over herself.

Grabbing the beautiful bouquet, she waltzed back to the front of the store, casually plopping the arrangement of exotic import flowers onto the counter for the world to see.

Sitting in a chair and leaning back, she propped her talons onto the counter, crossed her arms, and grinned.

It couldn’t attract Razorwing anymore, but it sure as hell could attract someone with a fat coinpurse, and to the botanist, that would do.

Sometimes, you just had to play the hand you were dealt...and Finnibar was determined to make the most of hers.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @reya-writes, @bexminx

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attract-mode-collective · 6 years

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"weLCUM to the motherfucking Queer matrixXx"

In part 1 of my recap of stuff tweeted during the later half of May, over at @AttractMode, I mentioned that one thing that kept me awfully busy… hence the backlog and two-part recap for Tumblr & Medium… was Death By Audio Arcade X Dreamhouse II.

The proper/full name of the soiree was Ova the Rainbow: DreamBoxXx, which is where most of these photos were taken, with a few from Death By Audio Arcade X Dreamhouse I; the photographer on the behalf of Gothamist was there for both opening & closing parties, to help add color to their story...

... BTW, the arcade will open one last time, this Friday (June 8th). Doors open at 7!

And as for the rest of last month... well... back to the subject of arcades for a sec; it’s a dream of many to have the full experience at home, though space is obviously the primary issue. Thankfully you (or your Lego minifigs to be exact) have options (via @ActionFigured)...

This Blast City shirt was designed on a CRT monitor, making it extra legit (no word if it was in TATE orientation tho; via theyetee.com)...

I basically know nothing about Avail, though appears to be a Target or H&M-like retail entity for Japan? Well recently they had a Gradius shirt for sale, but I missed my chance to save a copy of the PDF circular from which it made its seemingly sole appearance.

Hence why I had resort to blowing up this screencap (via miki800.com)...

There's actually a 2nd Gradius tee, and we thankfully have a far better look at it this time (via miki800.com)…

... I almost have to wonder if the 1st one was a mock-up or placeholder or something, cuz I seriously cannot find an image of it anywhere.

Few things get me as giddy as a nice 180 camera turn around with sprites (via segacity)...

And 3D turnarounds of polygonal characters are cool, provided that they’re watercolored (via typhlosionofficial)...

Same (via @BauceSauce)...

Sorry, but the sight of shelf after shelf, all bucking under the massive weight of countless carts & discs, is an eyesore IMHO. Instead, a modest pile of software with plenty of breathing room work best for me (via sixteen-bit)...

Such a beautifully personalized iPhone is essentially an iPhone for life (via miki800)...

A (video game) toy chest… a (video game) treasure chest… basically both? (via miki800)...

Remember hearing about Street Fighter 2 X Transformers? Well, they're finally here (via tfw2005.com)...

To be honest I have enough toys. Whereas I could always use more storage! Hence my interest in these SF2 USB sticks. But I can’t decide which World Warrior I want to see in such sad shape all the (via miki800.com)...

Time for another crossover, specifically Virtual On X bunny girls; a custom model kit of Angelan (via shop2000.com)...

A look at all the Tokyo Game Show poster girls since 2010 (via videogamesdensetsu)...

The first Famciase of 2018 to get my attention now has a fake ad to go with the fake game (via pepesalot)...

I'm 99.99% confident that this gaming set up/living quarters (via @miaumiauzmiau)...

... belongs to Polylina, aka Poririna, aka SEGA SATURN GAL (via this old post from a few years back)...

Note the similar pink curtains...

Who wears their Space Invaders shirt better? This guy (via shmups)…

Or this gal (via thesensualeye)...

The chairs for Space Invaders Frenzy has seen some serious shit (via oh-log-n)...

It’s a Space Invaders bathroom cuz why not (via it8bit)...

Nothing illustrates the harsh game making environment better than this one dev’s cardboard facade, underneath his desk, to emulate home (via videogamesdensetsu)...

Kitchen pantry cat’s prices are way better than bedroom closet cat’s (via @tatuya01)...

Memorial Day took place near the end of May, naturally, which meant another opportunity to repost my fave video starring the greatest soldier of the 20th century (via this other old post from years ago)...

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Memorial Day weekend was also when I decided to post a bunch of YouTube vids; remember that one explaining why wiggling Sonic 3D Blast for the Genesis produces a level select? Did you also remember to subscribe to the channel? If so, you’d already know how Sonic R did transparencies on the Saturn...

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Do you like Famiclones? Do you like Jackie Chan? Then you might like...

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... I ended up going down a Jackie Chan rabbit hole, which resulted in a high-quality version of the infamous soundtrack to Hong Kong 97. Which in turn led to the discovery that the loop is actually a small portion of a full-length song entitled "I Love Beijing Tiananmen".

Sorry to ask everyone to click out, but I have a limit on how many videos I can embed in a single post and all.

Come to see what NES game Bithead1000 broke the bank on, stay to hear him bitch about Trapper Keepers...

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Spoilers: it was Metal Storm, and can you believe that it managed to grace the cover of Nintendo Power? Not complaining of, more impressed than anything else (via shmups)...

Time for some bonus Bithead1000, which I’m not posting cuz of the aforementioned technical limitation, plus it has nothing to do with games anyway: hearing him talk about old school rap made my Memorial Day and hopefully it'll make yours, no matter what date it is.

Yet another video I must abstain from embedding is Johnny Cage performs 4'33". Hopefully all of you fans of Mortal Kombat/experimental compositions/shitty webtoons do not feel slighted (via roman55)...

Another look at the “New Aero City” stick, this time with the intended color scheme of yellow for both the balltop & buttons (last time they were red, as seen here; via hibachicandy)...

It’s the guy made Metal Gear and the guy who made Kong: Skull Island, playing Xevious & Ikaruga (via xtheo.ca)...

The beginning of the ultimate road trip (via lazywaifus)...

Like many others, I spent an entire morning pouring over that epic game collection before it was set to be auctioned off at the end of the month; my wish list included a SuperGrafx, TurboDuo, CD-i, Nuon, and Donkey Kong for the OG GB sealed… (via bodnarsauction.com)...

Alas, I couldn’t make the trip to Edison, NJ for the auction. Thankfully, @textfiles could; be sure to check all the photos he posted on May 31 for all that he saw...

Am surprised it took this long to see something like this (via @gamesyouloved)...

… The same source also posted this Sonic gif; I’ve looked everywhere for the source but zero luck… can anyone point me in the right direction?

Back to the aforementioned auction, or should I say the mass acquisition of old games; it’s always been a secret plan to collect a bunch of Super FX carts in order to extract the chips, for... something? (via pixelpolygon)

Thought check out what the Mega Drive/Genesis can do without the help of any fancy chips (via vidgam)...

...BTW, am aware of the fact that equally amazing programmers can probably push the SNES in crazy ways if given chance.

Am also familiar with the SVP or Sega Virtua Processor that drove the 16-bit version of Virtua Racing (which I enjoy better than the 32X version).

Re: the auction one last time: so the real reason why I didn't bother with making that trip to Jersey? There wasn't a Divers 2000 CX-1 on-hand (via anthony10000000)...

Here’s someone really enjoying a game of Zaxxon (via arcadezen)...

And someone... well... maybe enjoying a game of Polybius? (via dualvoidanima)

Okay, so this gif ain’t related to video games per say, yet this came up in a Tumblr that I frequent for super cool shit, plus the music video it’s from is neat, so there ya go (via mendelpalace)...

Speaking of sources for content, worlds collided with the surprise appearance of Just One Boss (which I first encountered at Death By Audio Arcade's Lo-Fi Game Night several months back) at obscurevideogames...

Worlds continued to collide with the surprise appearance of Attract Mode's Dark Souls print by Judson Cowan, in a recent article in Kotaku on the subject of Dark Souls Remastered...

One last last thing: I’ve long considered Suzuki Bakuhatsu to be THE game that best represents the Attract Mode a e s t h e t i c & I’m super happy that the RetroPals finally got around to playing it...

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jrazillashadowworks · 6 years

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Victubia Theme of the Month: June- Flower Language

I’m soo damn late with this but better than not finishing it at all! @,,@ Warnings: Dark themes with mention of violation.

I do hope you enjoy this. Been forever since I posted anything! Bonus at the end. ^,,^

Through the forest frosted and covered in white from the winter season, a massive being as pale as the snow trudged along, his form only noticeable from the void black hooded cloak. A colossal dadao blade was strapped to his broad back, accentuating his dangerous form, sheening in the grey light of the surroundings. However, cradled tenderly as if a baby in his muscular arms was a black lace bouquet of various species of decidedly out of season flowers, tied with a black ribbon. Each blossom was completely flawless and radiant as if preserved and protected by some form of magic, which indeed they were and a mesh veil. Just as special was the meaning behind each of them, some sweet and others somber.

It was with the expert assistance of the eccentric and theatrical entrepreneur from the special floral shop in the capital that he was able to collect such a meaningful arrangement. The short transwoman with the tri-colored ringlet hair had flit him about the shop, expressing the significance of each and every one. Though she was respectful to his purpose, she was rather apprehensive to let him leave with the flowers, learning he intended to leave them on a grave in the dead of winter. In the end, though his expression had been guarded, she saw the tragic sadness in his black eyes and she could not deny him. In the end, he walked out with a couple of pink carnations, dark crimson and tea roses, zinnias, anemones, and the best wishes of the businesswoman Adela.

Kain’s arms cuddled more around the bouquet and his heart sank as he broke through the trees to the small, secluded bluff overlooking the opaque ocean moving calmly under the desolate sky, drizzling with flakes. He had thought he had prepared himself enough, it had been a year since that day after all but, already he felt his innards constrict and tangle, tears already threatening to sting his eyes. Though he was struggling, he finally lowered his gaze on the three graves, only indicated by a trio of nondescript, dark grey stones. A thick layer of snow had nearly buried the stones, blanketing the mounds. This would not do.

Sitting his flowers under one of the spindly boned trees, he turned back and lifted his arms to the frigid wind, feeling the power resonate within him. Brows furrowing and with a single tear sliding down his cheek, he thrust his hands forward. Harnessing his inner turmoil, he surged a blast of magically concentrated air to dust the graves free of the white, fanning it over the bluff in an avalanche. The deafening, whirling howl of the wind gave voice to Kain’s deepest feelings, the cold clawing up his arms and fingers.

Dropping his hands, shoulders slumping, he exhaled softly, the graves visible with a glossy sheen of ice over the black dirt. Muscles tensing, he could not halt the faces of the two brothers from entering his mind, Arui, and…Ovis. The third grave belonged to their mother though Kain had never met her but, he held her in great esteem for she was the figurehead of their family. Ovis took center stage of his mind as he recalled the time they spent together as friends and comrades under the way of the assassin.

These memories, more powerful here, continued to bombard him as he retrieved the bouquet, brushing away the clinging snowflakes. When he turned back around, his feet became as if encased in cement blocks dropped in quicksand. It took all of his strength to trudge over to the grave of Ovis, each step heavier than the last. He could hear Ovis’ smooth voice in his head, the passing conversations and snarky comments playing out on repeat.

Reaching the foot of the mound, the voice was cut off by the ringing of the wire that decapitated him. The scent of his blood was as fresh in his nose as the day he died. Kain’s knees buckled, the weight of his emotions, amplified by the images of Ovis’ demise, crumbling him to the ground. Hunched over, tears flowed freely now, sprinkling the petals, instantly crystalizing into frozen blossoms of their own.

Kain cried silently for a few minutes before he was finally able to lay the bouquet onto the grave, whispering yet another final goodbye. Midway through his sentence, however, another voice intruded, one horribly and impossibly familiar. The sound was gravelly, yet smooth, like the burble of a creek over jagged stones.

“Ni hao, my western wind.” The tone was dripping with longing and elation, a strange combo that made Kain notice for the first time just how cold it was.

Wondering whether he had lost his mind, the pale man turned his head slightly, squinting at the ostentatious form, emanating warm color. The very sight made his skin crawl and the sadness evaporated, replaced by a cold emptiness. Standing not ten feet away was a man of average stature, but a powerfully athletic build, draped in the most ornate and embellished ceremonial, silk robe Kain had ever seen.

A rose gold embroidered fierce serpent of Chinese myth, known as the Bashe, wrapped around his body multiple times, jaws unhinged and fangs threatening, in a sea of glittering lotus flowers of warm colors. Over the robe, he wore an open, large sleeved, cloth overcoat, tied at the chest by a felt chord, one arm occupied and the other vacant. A head and face wrap obscured ninety-five percent of his features save for a single eye, his mouth and a very long tuft of silver hair that sprung out in a downward curve. Although the sheathed Jian blade, hardly veiled by the coat was cause for concern, it was more what was behind him that snatched Kain’s attention.

Haphazardly hidden around his back was a colossal bouquet. The impossibly slight movement of Kain’s notice did not escape this new arrival, causing him to hide it better. “So living a normal life didn’t suit you huh?” He spoke matter of fact, clearly posing it as a question out of some mock sense of propriety. “And now you seem to have been accepted by THEM fully.”

Kain felt the sting of the phantom needle on the nape of his neck again where a tattoo of a wraith now resided, marking the creation of a new bloodline in the growing web of assassins. He gave no implication of responding, though his hand incessantly itched to reach for his blade.

“It’s pleasant to see one of you stuck to it, especially after all the work I put into creating such masterpieces. Shame my Eastern Wind actually succeeded in the normal life.”

White hot memories flashed before Kain’s eyes of a past friend the exact age as himself, raised in the life of murder. It was this friendship that changed everything and lead to the betrayal and fire that supposedly freed them from this life. Although a twinge of relief found Kain at the knowledge of his friend’s positive turn, he was crestfallen to find that their biggest problem apparently survived.

“What do you want?” Kain finally asked with a hard edge to his voice. “You’re desecrating hallowed ground.”

The man let out puffs of breaths that turned into a full-on cackle that shook his entire body, extremely entertained by the notion of an assassin respecting the dead. After a full minute of this, he finally calmed, still chuckling through frantic, broken breathes and apologies. Once again composed, he continued as if it did not happen.

“A peace offering…” He finally pulled out the bouquet he had hidden behind his back that easily put Kain’s to shame in both size and color. Though it would appear to be a simple collection of extravagant and beautiful flowers, Kain remembered once again the voice of the flower shop owner. Among the rainbow bouquet were flowers such as jonquils and red camellias with positive meanings behind them. However, there was also an abundance of flowers that expressed disappointment and anger, along with some that were downright warnings such as begonias and monkshoods. This bundle was a complete expression of the man’s deepest thoughts and wishes towards Kain.

“I enjoyed your idea so much I had to imitate it. Now, I’m willing to forgive you for taking my arm and nearly having me burned to death if you would but come back to me…” A vehement lust resounded from within the man now, his form quivering with a sickening longing. “I desire to have what we once had. Join me again and we can go start over, right before all those horrible mistakes you made. Forget about these silly bloodlines and dead people who were simply substitutions for your broken friendship with the Eastern wind.”

Kain reached for the hilt of his sword now. A maelstrom of excruciating emotions whirled inside him like a ravaging tornado, aided by the appalling thoughts of the countless times this man had molested, violated, and beat him, along with the accusation that everything he had with Arui and Ovis was fake. “Leave…”

“You even kept the sword I gave you. It’s clearly destiny!!!”

At those words, the smothering pain inside Kain became a coalescence of gusty magical energy that in that precise moment released in a single attack, impossible to catch. With a single spin, Kain let loose his dadao in a sideswipe that blasted forth a terrible white cyclone that tore up everything in its destructive path towards the man, including the iced stone ground.

The deafening cyclone made for the trees, collapsing a few before dissipating in a gust that blew the snow away in all directions. What was left was not the man but a scattering of shredded petals, raining a kaleidoscope of color. Brows knit so tight they were almost connected, Kain hissed through his closed lips, scanning everywhere for the individual only to find nothing.

Once the sound died down, a voice filtered from nowhere in particular. “Such a terrible shame. The west wind seems to have weakened. Don’t worry. I haven’t given up on you. But…I’m thinking I’m going to have to pay a visit to our old friend institutionalized by the false contentment of a normal life and…persuade him. Until we meet again my Western Wind.”

Kain’s powerful arms went limp as rubber, hanging down. With all his power escaped, he was left but a husk of a man staring dead-eyed into the tree line, shivering cold.

Bonus: Flower language

Flowers in Kain’s bouquet:

• CARNATION Pink - I'll Never Forget You CARNATION, Purple – Capriciousness

• ROSE Dark Crimson - Mourning

• ROSE Tea - I'll Remember; Always

• ZINNIA Mixed - Thinking (or in Memory) of an Absent Friend

• ANEMONE -Forsaken or forgotten love and affection, the death of a loved one or the loss of them to someone else, the arrival of the first spring winds, Bad luck or ill omens

• DAFFODIL - Regard; Unrequited Love; you’re the Only One; the Sun is Always Shining When I'm with you

• HYACINTH Purple - I Am Sorry; Please Forgive Me: Sorrow

Flowers in the arrivals bouquet:

• GERANIUM -"Stupidity; Folly for Kain’s actions.

• HYDRANGEA - Thank You for Understanding; Frigidity; Heartlessness

• JONQUIL - Love Me; Affection Returned; Desire; Sympathy; Desire for Affection Returned

• MONKSHOOD - Beware; A Deadly Foe is near

• STOCK - Bonds of Affection; Promptness; You'll Always Be Beautiful to Me

• CAMELLIA Pink - Longing for You

• BEGONIA – Beware

• CAMELLIA Red - You're a Flame in My Heart

• CARNATION Yellow - You Have Disappointed Me; Rejection

• HEATHER White - Protection; Wishes will Come True

• MARIGOLD - Cruelty: Grief Jealousy

• NASTURTIUM - Conquest; Victory in Battle

• PETUNIA - Resentment; Anger; Your Presence Soothes me

#Victubia #vtotm #my writing #finally finished something #fan fiction

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musicaextraordinaire · 6 years

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The moment a musician is submerged within waters that purify and help flourish their brilliance, they become everlasting. They are anomalies and enigmas… But they are also exposed to the soul at the very same time. These artists create bodies of work that are beyond this world and the next. They are what we call "timeless" and "undying"… Undoubtedly, Prince is this musician and this artist. When I think of myself as an individual, I find myself rooting who I am back to themes and emotions such as: Cruel loneliness and burning lust. It is a part of who I genuinely am. Prince is the perfect example of this raging storm that leaves us in awe of its beauty and grace, no matter how thunderous it may get. When I first listened to his 1994 album "Come" I can vividly remember a washing tide come over me. It was full of emotional rawness that spoke to every essence that I was and in countless different ways. It was as if there was no right or wrong way to feel. The unapologetic genius in "Come" is the way it is presented. At the time, Prince was struggling with identity and having a certain security within many different aspects of his life. However, while most people believe "Come" was a "throw-away" album, it happens to be my utmost beloved body of work by this man.

It was that groove-stricken yet straightforward thematic artistry that came along with the album's title track "Come" that set this album adrift into an experience that, in my opinion, only hardcore Prince fans would understand. It started the album and added to its arousal. An eleven minute and thirteen second masterpiece that showcased, emphasized and elaborated upon the incomparable musicianship of Prince. His ability to create remains as one of the most thought-inducing acts this world has ever marveled at.

"Space" would then give a significant depth to "Come" effortlessly with exquisite lyricism and composing excellence. This song liberates those who know what love's potency feels like and lets them relive their passion through every bass pump and drum pulsation within the entirety of this track. Beautiful is an understatement to describe how otherworldly this song is intended to sound like. Beyond its time and beyond any feeling you could ever experience; the euphoria that radiates from the sounds of Prince's voice are angelic to this day.

The blatant craving that is sung by Prince in "Pheromone" evidently adds to the scorching fire going on within him. Through the deepest parts of Prince's mind, he conveys a winding tale of stinging temptation due to such a longing desire and heavy confliction. There is a woman playing a game with another man as he watches on in secrecy. That is how intensity is captured in storytelling tracks; with the injection of undisputed passion. One of Prince's greatest gifts was being able to paint vivid pictures in one's mind by only using lyrics.

Imagine being in an underground club in the depths of downtown Los Angeles. "Loose!" by Prince is blaring through the speakers and you are immersed in the sound pumping through your chest. I believe that this is one of the tracks Prince doesn't get enough credit for. It has such a roaring complexity to it. With that being said, the song's intricacy lies in the notion of Prince himself becoming completely taken over by this raging club scene. And what better way to promote the need for gaining knowledge through the lyrics: "Get your education first, then buy a pair of shoes!" Prince is for the people, make no mistake.

It is to the point where "Papa" begins to play out its ominous first few seconds that people realize how considerably daring Prince gets with certain themes. There is a subtle animosity to this song that abruptly flows into the chaos of Prince extending a lesson to the listener. In this song, there is so much speculation as to how much of it reigns true or not to Prince himself. However, the somberness still remains. The anger is felt through the second half of the song and you can almost hear Prince's words: "And there's always a rainbow, at the end of every rain." that echo through your mind afterwards.

Another specialty to Prince was that he was the definition of the word cryptic at times. If you read the lyrics to "Race", they take you for a trip with the first glance. To me, this track breathes an awareness. Both social and self. Personally, my favorite lyrics sung in this song are: "In the space I mark human, face the music… Cut me, cut you, both the blood is red." And that is a key line as to why I interpret this track the way I do. There is the message of equality there and it's one of the eccentric aspects to Prince that I adore.

To interpret heartbreak is to the effect of confronting an inner-demon, so to speak. Prince was no stranger to the realities of turmoil through a love affair with a woman prior to January of 1993 (when he wrote “Dark” initially.) However, there is such a seething hatred he has boiling in him and you can feel that scorn even through the tone of his vocal ability. When he ventures off into what I consider the climax of this track he sings: "Just as sure as Noah built the arc, that's how sure I am… You broke my heart." it only adds to the intense antagonism he is feeling at that very moment. But in this perplexing twist, he does it gracefully. This song is my favorite off the entire album because it is emotional. Because it says to the world: "I am angry and I am not apologizing for this." But there was soul in it. That is what adds to the enticement. That's what makes it is so beautiful yet intimidating to listen to.

The first words that I can think of after listening to "Solo" is always: Heavenly. I dream of heaven often and I imagine this stunning place with flower petals scattered everywhere and clouds surrounding me. This song is playing in the distance because it is so pure. This track is the wedge of this album. For some reason, it spills a divine energy into this body of work. Not to say the other tracks are tainted in a way, but there is an angelic feeling to how this song is composed. Yet there is sorrow regarding these lyrics. There is a coldness there but not in a disregarding and inconsiderate way. The coldness pertains to how there is loss there. Prince projects his grief through this captivating track. You don't know whether to be blissfully entranced or have a heavy sense of remorse for this man baring his soul to you. (All the shoutouts to David Hwang.)

And finally, it was "Letitgo" that became the core jam-session of this album. The song had every right to be a single. The track ultimately elaborated upon the growth Prince was going through as an artist at the time. It was his classic sound, with newly found influence and inspiration. "Letitgo" definitely is a song only hardcore Prince fans would really enjoy. Yes, it is meant to appeal to the general audience but truly understanding its brilliance is left up to the ones who meticulously listen to Prince's artistry and unconditionally admire it.

In conclusion, I am almost at a loss of words to even describe the amount of adoration I have for Prince's album "Come". For starters… This really wasn't just music, it was a trip. For many music critics and even including huge fans of Prince, this body of work is a "filler", as I mentioned in the beginning. However, to break-down each and every single aspect I thought was significant brings me closer to understanding Prince and his music. I relate to these songs. They bring out something in me which is remorseless for who I am. I am a strong woman of color who identifies with an even stronger man of color and subsequently live through his artistry because I belong there. My mind tells me I am free here and that is what I will hold onto for the rest of my life.

With love, Candy Dhami.

#Prince #Prince Rogers Nelson #COME #album #review #article #writing #music #90's

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